In an arid clime
you dig a well with shovels and sticks
bare hands and feet in circular motion
the secret is to keep digging
children and men
women too
join forces for a common cause
in the heat of the Sahara
the farmers and laborers are not spared
the musicians and poets too
for wells are not dug with eloquence and oratory
neither with a song
our labour of love spans weeks and months
our black backs shine with perspiration
we dig and continue digging
the secret is to never stop
we keep going till we strike gold
or rather the first gush of muddy water
as earth gives way to another
it takes a village to dig a well
then we dance and dance
a native dance afterwards
the musicians and minstrels play a tune
the village flutist tutes his flute
the labourers and farmers rest at nighttime
in the village square
around the bonfire
eating roasted yam marinated in palm oil
the women and children
dance and dance
a native dance
as poets compose poetry
the men lead the way
women and children follow
this is how we celebrate
the digging of a well