It'd been a week since the water last functioned. It's rare for anyone in my tribe to feel satisfied with the amount of water they get. Today I planned to get up extra early and be one of the first to have water quench my thirst. Most importantly I would be collecting water to prevent deathly dehydration from my family. I grabbed my oldest son, Jaranja and gathered five empty containers holding four galleons each. I gave Jaranja one container and tied it tightly across his shoulders and back. I took on the other four by balancing one on my flattened head and held the others either by hand or on my back. We then set off on a six hour journey for water to provide wellness for my family.
For the next two hours we traveled through scorching dust lands and left markers every few yards as indicators of the direction in which our village was. Jaranja was the first to spot other villagers. At this point I knew we were getting close.
When we arrived to the water hole my son and I desperately ran to start filling our buckets. Once the containers were fully stocked we made sure the lids were closed tightly. We couldn't risk losing any water. Every last drop counts.
Jaranja and I traveled for a few miles with what felt like boulders on our backs until we took a quick break. It's hard knowing I can't have as much water as I know I need. I was willing to sacrifice my thirst for my four children's lives. I allowed Jaranja a few tiny sips and we continued on our excursion. After hours of stress upon my back, head and arms and pricklers biting into my bare heels, we made it back to the village to serve the purpose of our agonizing voyage.
