Personal Narrative

In Nakivale, between basecamp and Kitiaza, nestled between rolling hills and verdant fields, there lies a water point that serves as the lifeline for the women of this tight-knit community. A weathered stone well, encircled by a ring of smooth-worn earth, stands at the heart of the village. Its edges bear the imprints of countless feet, a testament to the ceaseless pilgrimage of women who gather here, carrying not just empty containers, but hopes, dreams, and the sustenance of their families Each morning, as the first light of dawn gently kisses the horizon, a procession of women emerges from the thatched-roofed huts, their laughter and camaraderie woven into the fabric of this ritual. They come armed with jugs, pails, and buckets, each vessel a testament to the unique story. It carries a legacy of generations who have drawn from this same source. As the women gather around the well, a sense of unity pervades the scene. Conversations ripple through the group, an exchange of stories, advice, and laughter that binds them in a sisterhood forged by the shared purpose of securing water for their families. With practiced hands, they lower their containers, the creak of the pulley system harmonizing with their soft chatter. The water, cool and clear, gushes forth, filling each vessel with life-giving sustenance. Drops cascade, creating a symphony of liquid music that resonates with the women’s laughter and chatter. It is a melody of resilience, a harmonious tribute to their unwavering dedication. Yet, beneath the surface, there lies an unspoken understanding. These women bear not only the weight of their containers but also the aspirations of their families. They are the keepers of this essential resource, its guardians and stewards. With each trip to the well, they fortify the foundation upon which their community thrives. As the sun ascends higher in the sky, the women depart, laden with their precious cargo. Their steps are sure, their burdens carried with grace and purpose. They return to their homes, where the water will quench the thirst of loved ones, nourish the crops, and weave itself into the fabric of daily life. In this water point, I witnessed not only a source of sustenance but a reservoir of strength, unity, and unwavering determination. It is a place where women come not only to fetch water but to replenish the very essence of their community’s existence. This unassuming well is a testament to the indomitable spirit of these women, whose footsteps echo with a legacy of resilience, and whose hands hold the promise of a better tomorrow.