MARY balanced the clay pot of water that was brimful on her cloth-padded head with accustomed ease. She was a slender; but not skeletal, tall and beautiful girl about fourteen years old. Her dress was a broad cloth wrapped round the body and fastened under the left arm just above the breasts. Like that of other girls in her company, the dripping water from her pot plastered her dress against her skin. It looked like spray paint and revealed well-formed feminine features; firm rounded breasts that protruded in a most suggestive curve from a wonderful, beautiful, fabulous chest. Her slim waist, plump buttocks, flaring hips that hung over long and sleek beautifully calved legs were tantalising. High cheekbone that defined her emphatic jaw that framed generous mouth with full lips, were her feature for anyone to easily notice. It was extremely hard for men to meet her anywhere without a second take. She was at the head of the queue. 450 bushmaster ammo

Over twenty girls about the same age, bearing similar water pots and in similar attire trotted behind her in a single file along the bush path back to the village. Giant and dwarf trees entangled by leafy climbing plants surrounded the footway that snaked through the heart of the bush. Open land stretched with a dense patch of brush, undergrowth of tough grasses that edged the footway with deciduous trees and shrubs made up greater part of the terrain.

Several naked and half-naked children between eight and twelve years old, carrying containers of different sizes; according to their strength, filed behind the bigger girls spilling much of the contents as they moved briskly to keep up with the group. Most of the children in the earlier times went about naked or half-naked and were fully dressed only from the day preparations for marriage begins.

Thin pencil-like and broad timber-like rays of light from the blinding late morning sun like mallets hammering away and arrows raining hard busted and pierced the gloom of the trees projecting large and tiny spots of light on the mouldy vegetation with organic scents like an over congested dump around an outdoor fruit market.

‘I can see why the men just won’t let Ada be,’ the girl behind Ada said. ‘Look at her backside,’ she went on gently patting it, ‘it vibrates twice as much with every step as if it’s held by a tiny spring.’ Chuckles from the girls swept through the group. They were now falling to the rear as the younger children competed to take the lead.