This is going to be a lengthy story, but keep reading...

You attempt to wet your sun-cracked lips as you gaze up at the sky, shielding your face from the brilliant daytime light with your hand. Estimating four hours of daytime left, you grab the family jerry can. The jug is a faded sun yellow, encrusted with mud, and has a small crack midway up the side. You begin your trek down the steep, hazardous hill your village rests on. Passing shacks of straw and various pieces of scavenged wood, you hustle by women on their knees sweeping dust and grime from their dirt floors, their back exposed to the unforgiving fire of the sun through the cracks in the roofs of their homes.

Two hours outside of the village, you reach your destination. The back of your throat screams in pain, as dust cakes the inside of your mouth. Falling to your knees in exhaustion, you lap up slimy green liquid from the pool of stagnant water. Cringing as the liquid slides down your throat, you manage some strength to pull the jug out of the water, brimming with floating bits of plants, dirt, bugs, bacteria, and animal waste. Your shoulders scream in protest as you heave the can onto your back, determined to lug the water back to your family of five. As you turn back to the village, the sun sets and the forest is an uninviting black hole full of dangers. But it's the only way home, so you press on. Every snap of a twig is magnified ten-fold in your frightened, sensitive ears. Footsteps suddenly appear behind you, and you begin to run but the weight of the jug impedes your progress. You abandon the jug in a hopeless splash as the footsteps become more audible and threatening. A hand reaches your shoulder and tosses you face first into the ground. You turn, eyes clouded with dust, to face your attackers: three large men with knives that gleam with thirsty grins. You were almost home. Almost. You are a twelve-year-old girl from an African village and you will be raped all because you wanted a drink of water.

But this is not the story of your life. You can get up from your computer, iPhone, iPad, ect as you read this and get a glass of refreshing, mud-less water from your refrigerator or sink. You can send your twelve-year-old child off to school for an education. You can go to the doctor when you're sick. You can have a home, free of a dirt floor and holes in your roof. But so can people like the ones in my story.

All you have to do is donate.