The rusty tap is at the end of a dusty, dirty track
A drip of water that may not last till you reach the sodden earth beneath it
The queue snakes along sluggish
Past the pit toilets that overflow
Hold your breath and turn your face
To see the broken windows on the school
The building without a principal, a lab or menstruating girls
Two teachers on indefinite sick leave, one suspended for sexual abuse
Classes of forty now bursting at sixty
Your father waits for the bucket you gingerly carry
Don’t spill one precious drop – all are thirsty, all are dirty
Baba needs to wash before going to the dump where he will pick through rubbish
Selling paper and plastic to buy a loaf of bread and a tin of fish, maybe
The mine closed down and with it the hope that you would matriculate
A job for you when a man of fifty searches for his dignity in a pile of stinking rot?
Sisi wears the frayed T-shirt that bleeds the colours of the South African flag
Faded like the shine that was the rainbow nation
She is rushing to the stadium for the celebrations
Freedom Day! 27th April
We are liberated
We are enfranchised
We are whole