Yellow Water Jugs

The yellow water jug

holds just a little in its bottom

in the early morning

so I can splash my

dark dark cheeks.

Uniform stretched out on my bed,

I wear a faded dress instead.

I stand up tall - upon my head

is the empty

yellow water jug.

The path is long and stretches far.

One way students walk to class;

this way we walk for water.

Dust is stirred by bare

dark, dark feet

like mine and all the other girls',

careful braids and short-cropped curls

and teeth like baby pearls. 

All carrying, just the same,

yellow water jugs.

The men watch us, 

taking tea with big, rough hands,

winking at us with 

dark, dark thoughts 

but we do not meet their eyes. 

The hairs on my arms rise.

Strength in numbers, walking by sunrise. 

I grow thirsty under the sun

but as barren as the dusty path

is my yellow water jug. 

The thorn bush catches my foot

and like a river, up wells

dark, dark blood

but still I smile because I've arrived 

at the end of the long queue. 

Women young and old and thin 

with weary faces, weathered skin 

stand at this daily chore again,

all carrying empty

yellow water jugs. 

The heat is thick and still I wait, 

jug at my feet, skin damp with sweat.

My head bows, casting

dark, dark shadows. 

When the sun is high it's my turn,

so I pump until my muscles burn 

and my dry, dry throat yearns, 

but others are waiting too, so 

I rush to fill my 

yellow water jug.  

The jug balanced on my head, I hurry. 

I don't want to be trapped in the

dark dark night

with the men who always watch.

I make it home, aching, tired.

Grandmother cooks bent over the fire. 

Brother walks in with stick and tire,

looking so smart in his school uniform.  

Grandmother cooks and empties most of 

the yellow water jug. 

It's hard to see through the

dark, dark smoke

but we eat and tonight there is enough. 

Brother talks about all I missed

in class. I ball my fists,

but through sleepy thoughts I listen. 

No need for tears. When the rains come, 

perhaps I'll go back to class again. 

But tomorrow I'll be walking 

with other girls, barefoot, balancing

our yellow water jugs.