Aluna balanced the bucket of water on her head, careful not to spill a single drop of the vital liquid. It was dirty and infected with countless viruses, but once boiled, it would be safer.

Life in Mozambique was hard, to say the least. They were currently in the middle of their biggest drought ever. Their food was almost out and the little amount of water that was left in the tap had to be monitored by a government official.

As she made her way through the dirt and sand covered streets, she looked pitifully at the mothers cradling their starving and sick children who filled their town with their cries.

Aluna finally made her way through her doorway to her home, she was greeted by her two younger brothers, Imamu and Lekan, screaming.

"Aluna, go fetch another bucket of water and then go and buy some ncima and Cassava from the markets, we're almost out," her mother said as she cradled the crying children in her arms.

"Mumma I wanna go outside and play!" her younger sister, Akinyi complained, tugging on her mother's arm.

"And then take your sister out to play," her mother added.

"Yes, mother."

Aluna tipped the water into their small oil drum that functioned as their water tank in the back corner of their small one-room home.

Taking the empty water bucket and a small handful of money, Aluna left the house.

* * *

Aluna hurried through the uneven streets of the market, dodging the handfuls of people and towards the vegetable stall.

The market used to be busier, there used to be merchants and sweet stores, wonderful smells, and snippets of conversation but that was years ago. Aluna was only 5.

Now, 9 years later, the market was a few food and essential item stores and some people selling what little possessions they had left. It's a lot quieter.

Aluna stopped in front of the vegetable stall.

"One batch of cassava, please," she asked the vendor.

He slid the brown roots over to her, and she handed over the money.

A batch of cassava used to be ten roots but was now only five for the exact same price. Things in Mozambique where going downhill very quickly.

Taking the cassava, she made her way to the ncima stall.

Aluna liked the lady there. She was old but kind. She made her ncima in a cauldron and sold it by the bowl.

As she joined the line, she looked ahead, only to see it wasn't the old lady selling the ncima, it was a boy only a few years older than her.

When she finally got to the front of the line, she saw that the price had gone up again. Aluna hoped she had enough.

"Three bowls," She told the boy and slid what money she had left over to him.

The boy counted the money and looked up at her.

"You only have enough for one bowl," he replied in a bored voice.

Great.

"Well then one bowl, please."

The boy measured out her Ncima and took the money she owed him. That left her with only 2 small coins.

"Thank you," Aluna said gratefully as she took the bowl and turned to leave.

"Aluna!"

Aluna looked around. There in front of her stood her best friend, Jaheem.

"Oh, hi Jaheem! I haven't seen you around for a long time!"

Jaheem was a year older than Aluna was. He was tall and skinny with his almost black hair mostly shaved off.

"What happened to the old lady?" Aluna asked.

Jaheem got a solemn look on his face.

"She died," He stated.

Aluna couldn't reply. She really liked that old lady.

The people in her village seemed to be dropping like flies. Diseases, starvation, thirst.

That old lady was the oldest person in the village.

"How did she die?" Aluna asked. The pair had started to walk back to Aluna's house.

"No-one can tell. Some say old age, others say SAD, but we can't know for sure." Jaheem was kicking stones on the dirt path.

SAD was a virus that had appeared a few years ago. It had no symptoms, and its name meant Sudden Adult Death. SAD only seemed to affect adults and, as the name suggests, it caused adults to die spontaneously.

SAD had taken both her and Jaheem's fathers.

And yes, she did feel very sad about it.

The two walked the rest of the way in silence. Just before entering the house, they lifted their heads and wiped the small tears from their eyes.

"I'm back mum!" Aluna called out.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Her mother sighed, relieved. She took the cassava and ncima and placed it on the bench. "Now take your sister out to play," She commanded as she broke off a piece of cassava and threw it in a small pot of water that was boiling on the tiny cook stove. It was then she noticed the guest. "Oh! Hello, Jaheem, dear!" She hurried over and embraced him.

"Nice to see you Mrs Buhari," Jaheem smiled.

"Aluna!" Akinyi's whining voice broke up the hug. "Let's go!"

"Alright, alright. Let's go, Akinyi," Aluna took her sister's hand and left the house.

* * *

Aluna and Jaheem sat at the edge of the dried up water hole in the middle of the village and watched Akinyi playing with 2 other little children on the hard, cracked ground.

"How much longer do you think we'll last?" Aluna asked, breaking their momentary silence.

"What do you mean?" Jaheem looked at her confused.

"I mean how long until we run out of water? How long until we run out of food? What will we do then?" Aluna stared over the ugly roofs of the houses into the distance. What will we do?

"I don't know," Jaheem started. "But I don't think we have very much time. The food's almost out, so is the water." Jaheem paused and looked up at the sky. "As for what we'll do, I think we'd move. Maybe somewhere in the south, away from the Sahara."

The prospect of having to leave the village, her home, the only place she's ever seen and has come to love, despite its many flaws, and go out into the world leaving everything behind, it was scary. Aluna hoped it would never come to that. But deep down, she knew, the village couldn't hold them much longer. It would come to that.

The sun had begun its descent and Aluna had to be home by dinner.

"I should get going," Aluna said and stood up. "Akinyi! We're going!"

"Naw! But I don't want to go! I'm staying!" Akinyi sat down with her arms folded and back to her sister.

"Akinyi, if we don't go now, we won't be home in time for supper! And no, I'm not going to bring you your food."

Akinyi jumped up and hurried over to Aluna.

"Bye, Jaheem," Aluna waved as she took her sister's hand and began the trek home.

* * *

The family sit on the floor and eat their small meal of boiled cassava and ncima with cups of water. This was what they normally ate when they could spare the money. Often, they just had water.

Their father used to earn the money, but when he died, the family was given some money to live off, but that money was practically gone. The family would soon have to find some way to find money. And soon.

They ate in silence, as they did most nights. Their amount food for dinner was small and was nowhere near enough to fill them up. The family finished eating with their bellies still grumbling and began to set up for bed.

The sun was almost down and the house was in near darkness. The family spread out on the dusty floor, Lekan in their mother's arms, Akinyi and Imamu huddled together.

Aluna shivered. The nights got so cold now. And the floor was getting rockier and even more uncomfortable.

Aluna hoped that there was something better for her.

As she closed her eyes and shifted her position once again, she remembered her youngest sister. Kenya had died two years ago.

Aluna missed her so much. Her sweet, innocent smile, her constant positive outlook on life, and the fact that she would always try to help Aluna carry the water. She was so sweet.

She was only four. She died of starvation.

A tear rolled down Aluna's cheek as she finally fell into an uneasy sleep.