Knee Deep

Tue 18th Aug 2026

I am a girl standing where the river should not be,
With muddy waters climbing up around me.
I call for help, but my voice is swallowed
By the roaring waters and the cries of the night.
Bamenda, can you hear me?
The water came rushing through my doorway,
Carrying dirt, plastic, bottles and waste,
Turning my home into a riverbed,
And washing away the things we worked so hard to keep.
My books are floating.
My clothes are soaked.
My precious belongings are disappearing beneath the water,
And I am standing here, frightened,
Wondering if the river will take me too.
Limbe Douala, Yaounde Mbouda, please—hear me!
I am not just one girl.
I am the mother calling for her children,
The child searching for a safe corner,
The neighbour watching everything she owns disappear.
I am every family whose home has become a stream.
But tell me, Cameroon
Must we wait until the waters claim another life?
Why do we throw our waste into gutters
Then wonder why the gutters cannot breathe?
Why do we cut down trees carelessly
And forget that their roots help hold the earth together?
The rain is falling,
The waters are rising,
And I am crying from inside this river of waste:
Please, help me 
Help her
Help him
Help us....
Clear the gutters.
Protect the trees.
Stop dumping waste where water must pass.
Look after one another when the rains come.
Bamenda, this is not merely water knocking at our doors—
It is a warning.
Today, it is my house.
Tomorrow, it could be yours.
So before another voice disappears beneath the rushing waters,
Before another family loses everything,
Before another life becomes a name we mourn—
Bamenda, wake up.
Limbe, stand together.
Douala, hear her cry.
I am still here,
With the water at my feet
And hope in my heart.
Reach for me.
Save my home.
Save my community.
Save lives