By Surihe Gaomas
RUNDU
She strides so effortlessly on the narrow dusty pathway, dwarfed by the giant mahangu fields.
Never makes a turn to the left or to the right, but looks straight ahead.
It is midday and the scorching sun bears down on her worn-out body as she balances the drum full of water on her head, a five-month-old baby strapped on her back and another six-year-old by her side.
She has the desire to go on until she reaches her destination.
For 32-year-old Bernadette Mapito, it was an exhausting 10-kilometre walk, just to go and fetch water from the Kavango River.
“You cannot stop until you reach home,” said Mapito, gently placing the drum of water on the ground and slowly untangling her baby from her back.
Sweat stings her brow. Her breath is deep, but calm. Her naturally toned skin, scorched by the sun. As for now the daily chores for this rural woman of the Kavango are not yet over.
“The work must be done,” said Mapito with a sparkle of determination in her eyes. “A woman must work hard for her family, every day,” she added, calling out to other nearby village women to go and collect firewood.
“Tuzeni koyitare genderereniko,” she shouts in Rukwangali, beckoning her friends to come and join her.
This is another 5-kilometre walk from the homestead, as they take the winding footpaths in the thick forest areas of the region. It looks like the ideal picture on a postcard – a group of six women walking in a straight line in search of one thing – firewood.
Their mission is clear and that is what they achieved after a foot-throbbing walk through the natural vegetation of huge trees and bushes.
After about four hours, each one of them returns balancing a huge bunch of wood on their heads.
“As young girls we are all taught how to do this from an early age. My mother showed me, so I will also show my children and my grandchildren.
“That’s how it is in our culture,” said 23-year-old Maria Shikongo from Ndama village in the Nkurenkuru district.
Shikongo is a single mother of three.
“He just came and gave me these children, but without any support or care,” said the young mother, adding that life for women in the villages is a daily uphill battle.
Early in the morning, the household chores for any rural woman start with getting up at the crack of dawn, washing the children for school, fetching firewood, cooking, pounding mahangu and working on the fields with a baby on her back.
In most cases drunk and violent husbands or boyfriends even beat them up, while their hard work to keep the family fire burning is never appreciated at the end of the day.
“Nane,” which means mother “please give me water,” said her four-year-old son, Mathues, pulling at her skirt, oblivious of the fact that his mother was exhausted. Yet with an affectionate look, she gets up and scoops a cup from the drum she had placed in one of the huts.
Everywhere you look you see young mothers with two or three or even four children by the side.
According to the 2001 Population and Housing Census on the Kavango Region, “women in urban areas were expected to have four to five children, those in rural areas give birth to almost six children”.
What this means is that single mothers like Shikongo have six mouths to feed and look after.
Yet what makes their situation hopeful is that they always have a smile on their faces, despite the daily hardships they have to endure. This is what one would term the smile of hope, the smile of the strength of a rural woman.
“Zora, zora,” shouts Shikongo to her children – meaning that they should smile as our chief photographer clicks his camera for a family shoot.
“We are really suffering. There are no jobs and sometimes even enough food for us to eat. The rains have come late and the mahangu crop is dry. Look at this one,” she said showing the shrivelled up cob from her field.
Fishing is therefore also another source of livelihood for the rural people in the Kavango. “This is nomfi-fish,” said another woman showing us a bowl of small fish she had just collected with her traditional fish net that day.
Just about 50 km down the dusty Nkurenkuru-Rundu road one can see two young girls busy pounding mahangu under the shade of a huge tree.
A rhythmic hissing sound can be heard with every thump that they make. For them this is the task at hand and the restless flies don’t seem to bother them at all.
Meet 22-year-old Rauncia Steketa and 18-year-old Maria Muronga – they have been doing this non-stop for close to two hours that day.
“We are used to it,” they say, smiling, firmly holding the huge wooden stick as they continue with their work. Later that day they had to cook the mahangu for their families.
The strength of a rural woman shines through her determination to continuously work hard, despite her bleak circumstances, to have the vision to complete her task well and on top of that keep a constant smile – a smile of hope.