By the side the door that led to mother's kitchen,
Stood three heavy drums filled with water.
So spacious they were,
They could swallow my petite body if I fell into them.
Early every morning,
In cold or harmattan,
Mother would wake her three beautiful daughters
To get water from the stream
And fill the three heavy drums.
One drum for each daughter.
Off they would go
With buckets on their heads
Reluctantly to the stream
Until the drums were filled.
Those water in the drums was the only source of water in our house.
Mother would use it to cook for us.
And bathe her little son also.
Without water in the drums,
How would mother cook for us?
And without water in the drums,
Where would her little son fetch water to play with?
Mother trained her three lovely daughters to fill the house with life every morning.
Not only their father's house
But their future homes.
For filling the drums every morning was as good as blessing themselves every morning with life.
For water is life.