JOY OKWANJIRE (PRONOUNCER: ah-kwahn-JEER'-ee) HAS SEEN MUCH IN HER 70-SOME YEARS OF LIFE IN A HILLTOP UGANDAN VILLAGE.

BUT ONE THING NEVER CHANGES, AN ARDUOUS DAILY WALK TO GATHER WATER.

WITHOUT FAIL, SHE SETS OUT EACH MORNING FROM THE MUD HUT SHE CALLS HOME, HEADING DOWN A NARROW SLIPPERY PATH WITH A 10-LITER JERRY CAN.

IT'S GOTTEN TOUGHER AS SHE'S GOTTEN OLDER, BUT SHE HAS NO CHOICE.

HER HUSBAND HAS DIED. AND LIKE PEOPLE THROUGHOUT RURAL AFRICA, SHE HAS NO RUNNING WATER AND NO MONEY FOR A TANK TO GATHER RAIN. SO SHE WALKS.

THROUGH A MORNING FOG, PAST A BABY GOAT, BESIDE SLOPING FARM FIELDS. ON AND ON, UNTIL SHE REACHES A WISPY STREAM, STEPS ONTO A ROCK LEDGE AND PLUNGES HER YELLOW JUG IN.

SHE USES A FIRM GREEN BANANA AS A STOPPER AND HOISTS THE CAN UP.

THE TREK HOME UP A STEEP HILL IS TOUGH ENOUGH WITHOUT A JUG. WITH ONE, IT'S TRYING.

OKWANJIRE TAKES BREAKS HERE AND THERE AS SHE SCALES HER WAY BACK.

WALKS LIKE THIS REPEAT ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

GATHERING WATER IS A TASK TYPICALLY RESERVED FOR WOMEN AND CHILDREN, AND AS THE POPULATION OF OLDER PEOPLE INCREASES, MORE AND MORE OLDER WOMEN ARE TAKING ON THE CHORE.

BY THE TIME OKWANJIRE REACHES HOME, SOME 82 MINUTES HAVE PASSED.

SOUNDBITE (Rukiga) JOY OKWANJIRE:

"Very tired. Very Tired. Very tired."

SHE SAYS THAT SHE IS TIRED AND SORE AND KNOWS THE DAY WILL COME WHEN SHE'S TOO OLD TO KEEP THIS UP. BUT NOT YET.

TOMORROW, SHE PROMISES, SHE'LL BE BACK ON THE TRAIL AGAIN.