She rose early in the morning, picked up a pot and walked tiredly to the river. As the cool breeze her into one direction, grouse pimples appeared on her tender skin. She put her pot into the river on arriving there, she ensured that it was filled, and then she placed it on a dry ground. As always, she was the first to get to the river, she took off her cl Iothes and walked nudely into the cold water, her well juiced oranges danced from left to right as she walked and her curved buttocks showed their beauty. Then she began to sing, her voice like that of a bird, even much better than that of a bird, as her mouth gave different shapes to the song she sang, her eyes were bright to the realization of the words. She played with her hair which was black and long enough to cover her neck when viewed from the back, the ancestors would say “A woman’s hair is her beauty”, the hung to their words. Then she went deep down into the water, ensuring that the cold water touch every part of her body, then she bathed, she took all her time, she was the only one there, there was no reason to rush. When she was pleased, she stepped out of the water and to the dry ground she picked her clothes and dried herself, then she carried her pot of water and walked majestically to her house. On her way back the sun rose and she meet other ladies with their pots on their head, just going to the river, she smiled to herself on the fact that she was always the first to rise.


She placed the pot of water down and set up fire to cook, she placed the wood appropriately, she sat on a stool and fanned the fire till it burned the way she wanted it. Then she tidied up where she used as she hated it when her kitchen was higgledy-piggledy. The aroma formed from what she cooked affected her neighbors as they salivated...........................

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