The yellow tin cans
Every morning, for a long time now and for a long time to come, near Bujumbura in Burundi, dozens of children and teenagers get on their bicycles to reach the Mugere River.
They leave early, while the light is still gentle.
The road is long: bumpy tracks stretching for several kilometers, downhill on the way there, uphill on the way back.
They don’t go there to swim…
In most neighborhoods of this country of a thousand hills, there is no running water, and public fountains often don’t work or are too expensive for families. So the river water becomes the only option — to cook, to wash, or simply to drink, after boiling it…
When they arrive at the Mugere, the children — laughing, singing, teasing one another — fill, from who knows where, these old yellow jerrycans of more than twenty liters. Their movements are quick, precise, sure, despite the sharp, slippery pebbles and the uneven current.
The atmosphere is lively, almost cheerful, but the reality — and the jerrycans — remain heavy.
The return trip is the hardest part.
The worn, patched-up, sometimes flat-tired bikes carry nearly 60 kilos of water, sometimes more. Pedaling is impossible!
So they push, pull, strain, leaning into the weight of their bodies, one step after another, under the rising heat.
Sometimes they’ll make the trip twice.
The water will be used for cooking dinner, washing clothes, or filling a basin. The next day, they’ll start again.
This work shapes their daily lives and eats away at their childhood.
(Text Jean-Claude Raskin)
