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Aleana and the other women from her village in the Democratic Republic of Congo don’t know themselves. Since she was a girl she had hated the coming of evening. That was the time, at the end of a hot working day, when the women still had the job of going for water – not just to the tap in the kitchen, but six kilometres away. That intimidating long walk with the real fear of snakes and, even worse, of being attacked or raped – and the long road made worse on the way back by the dragging weight of bucket handles digging into her hands, and the prospect of having to do this all over again tomorrow – and for all the tomorrows. But now her village has a new well, with sparkling clean water, and Aleana joins the other women to talk and laugh and draw water and stroll home.