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Mama Jane is leading our group of struggling men and women as we traverse the narrow road from the Mara River back to her home, buckets of water slung across our backs, balanced precariously with the help of tethered rope and community encouragement. Halfway up I stop, exhausted, and pass the load—now slipping from my sweaty grasp—to my teammate, tagging her as “it,” with the task of completing the journey. We’re in Emori Joi, a Kenyan village in South Narok, Kenya, on a traditional water walk, tracing the route women here (“mamas”), have taken for years to meet their laundry, cooking and bathing needs. Every single day. Not once but five times. Often while carrying babies, machetes and firewood. Just another day for the Mamas.
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