Went to Kopetatum again this morning. The villagers were expecting us, but when we arrived, almost no adults were seen (I think I’ve been here too long – if that’s Ugandan English, sorry, I can’t remember and it sounds normal to me). We learned that an aid agency is distributing seeds and hoes in the town 10k away, so everyone had gone to collect their share. As there were no opportunities for mudding the bandas today, we instead followed Rose out into the bush (a group of children following us), where she started hacking at a thorn tree with an axe. She asked whether we understood and could use the axe – most of us are obviously not known for our construction abilities. We cringed at the idea of cutting down the trees, as they are relatively scarce in the savannah and reforestation is a foreign concept, but complied. The thorn branches are used to form protective fences around the manyattas, meaning that they must be literally dragged back to the village by foot. The trees aren’t so large, but this still requires a good deal of muscle as the thorns catch everything in their path. After making several trips with the thorn trees, Emily and I were worn out, so we followed Sagal and Logit, two K’jong girls (maybe eight- and five-years-old), to the river to collect water. We’re into the beginning of the wet season, but the ground has been so dry that it’s still absorbing almost all of the rain. The “river” is actually just sand at this point. The K’jong dig into the riverbed to access whatever groundwater they can find. There were several pits about two feet deep, the largest holding maybe two liters of water. Sagal removed the standing water with a can, tossing it outside the pit. This apparently removes some of the murkier water. The pit slowly refilled, and we scooped water into their jerrycans. I was thirsty and would have happily accepted the offered drink, but as of yet have no desire to host amoebas or other parasites. Emily and I carried the containers back up to the bank. The girls cleaned the sand off the bottom of the jerrycans so that Em and I could carry them in true K’jong fashion: on our heads. Women here are incredibly strong and carry all sorts of things on their heads (grain sacks, wood piles, etc.) that would likely break my neck. Our jerrycans don’t really compare, but we were still quite pleased to have managed it.