The lands laid bare and naked, fertile in all its brilliant radiant beauty, a delicate state of innocence. Forbidding land wasters and intruders to trespass and harbor spoils. A sapient farmer comes to prickle the land with hoe and cutlass, ready to farm and plant seeds and produce a harvest.
The sky is pregnant with an abundance of rain, robust and fat –it then smiles and delivers, watering the earth. A blessing to the land which in turn sprouts healthy, lively fruits and crops. It is truly a blessing, the lands were fertile, the rain fell and the seeds planted in the earth germinated.
The wind came —the wind! Yes, the wind…
It came on strongly, throwing away everything on its pathway in rage. The trees rocked back and forth as yams wrestle in mortars when the women pound with stamina. Everyone galloped helter-skelter to their various house for shelter so as not to be carried away by the wind.
The wind! Yes, the wind –one could never be too sure with the type of rage it came on with.
Young girls in little skirts danced with sheer joy and soft vulnerability that could only but praise the lushness of youthful age and womanhood.
In rhythm, they danced. With melodious tones, they sang on, jubilation roared and there was them stomping their bare feet on the ground, oblivious to their surroundings.
Young girls wriggle tiny waists in delicate desire catching the fancy of young boys and men.
They danced in preparation for the coming rain stirring up emotions within people of the neighborhood with shouts of joy and merry.
The women were glad because they would collect water into pots. Clearly, they wouldn’t have to trek to the stream for days to fetch water. The men were glad, now their crops will obtain rain and grow. Now is the time they get more warmth and intimacy from their wives. The gods have smiled upon us, they sang joyfully. Darkness spoke to the day in hush tones, whispering silent words in homage, rumbling of thunders followed suit, ushering itself in.
The rain came, it rained on heavily, beating down on people’s huts –rushing down pathways. Lamps were lit up in people’s homes providing light and warmth for all but despite this, the people shudder due to the storm.
Morning came, the cock crowed. The people woke up to see destruction which lay wastes, they woke up to the horrific sight of large trees bent disorderly, leaves unfurl along pathways. This caused confusion and shock amongst them. The villagers gathered and spoke quietly, debating about the night’s turmoil likewise the rage of the rain. A baffling and worrisome situation it was. In-between thoughts, words were better left unsaid about the young girls.
Young girls sat in wait for the elderly women, each with her belongings packed by their mothers. The practice had to be done again, the girls’ genitalia had to be cut. Their mothers were not exempted. They had been cut too.
The elderly women discussed quietly inside; the young girls had been instructed not to move from where they were.
Finally, the women came out, directing the young girls on what to do. They were led into a room. The room was damp and dark. The girls’ eyes adjusted to the only two lamps at the far corner of the room giving light. Brown leather bags and dry skulls rested on the walls creating a fearful image in the mind of the girls.
Several mats were laid on the floor. Razor blades, sharp knives, and harmful lots of needles were kept in a corner
What was scarier were the red dresses hung near the door. Silence ensued, the girls became uneasy, frantically looking everywhere in fright. The room was likewise smelling horrible.
Next, they heard, was a woman’s voice. “Lay on your backs,” she let out with lucid animosity. They searched out her face in the dim light. The woman was dreadful with several marks running across her face, her face was contorted. One could have guessed she wore a frown at all times. She spoke with such ferocity and bitterness, that seems to come from an obscure place in her heart.
One can’t tell what had happened to her. The young girl couldn’t begin to fathom or comprehend her thoughts. Presently, their hearts jam against their rib cage, they shook with fear of what is to happen, or what is to befall them. They laid down with uncertainty and the woman did what was expected of her. Loud sorrowful wails were heard as if in thought a person had departed.
The elements grieved too, for the evening came quickly, shutting everything out. Their bodies burn with pain, faces devoid of emotions, faces with stained dried tears faces of flowing tears– blood flowed without restraint; their strength waned. They felt empty. Words weren’t said–there was nothing to be said… They felt and understood each other’s pain.
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Death was nearby, sneaking in like a thief at night. Joyfully sensing their fears and weaknesses, ready to plunge on the very weak and dying ones. He holds a vigil on the young girls like a guard on duty.
A bloodline of elites with an abundance of wealth and cultivated sophistication. They sprang up, blends–in with modern times. We had thought immoral traditional customs and vile habits wouldn’t fit into their styles. But what happens when these elites have equally adopted these vile habits and immoral traditional customs due to unpredictable reasons?
Let’s begin with a picture of the Ben’s. The Ben’s are four altogether. Mr. Ben, his wife and his two beautiful daughters– Sim and Kim. One could say the Ben’s are of the middle class, a family thriving in simple elegance and styles. Ben’s home portrays a friendly atmosphere and a homely tenderness. Mr. Ben’s daughters– Sim and Kim of which Kim is the oldest. Before now was a delicate and cheerful ten-year-old with adorable behavior.
Now Kim just looked on without vigor, lost in moments, staring into space, silent and brooding –she isn’t the same person she was before. Fearsome aftermath of what she had been subjected to.
Her mother noticed these traits in her and became worried. There was nothing she could do, It had to be done.
But now Sim her youngest daughter clocks Six. Now, it’s time for her to be cut like her sister. She was troubled again, afraid she will act like her sister, afraid there will be nothing she could do. Sim is the former picture of Kim –bright, beautiful and radiant. She’s carefree and ignorant of fears surrounding her.
In the case of Female Genital Mutilation [FGM]. A whole lot of young girls and women are affected, young girls and women experience indescribable pain and anguish.
Young women danced and sang the praises of the girls, rendering panegyrics to them, for the strong will and courage shown towards the ceremony. Now they will be known as women –ones of strong will and courage, ones soon to be wives of valiant hunters, farmers, and fishermen.
Girls of their age applaud them for going through with the ceremony or they wouldn’t be playmates. No more will they be called babies suckling from their mother’s breast. Their mothers look on at them with pride and with an acute sense of fulfillment of duties.
The young girls were instructed by their mothers on how to behave, now that the ceremony has been performed. Their duties have been executed; they have done their part. Mothers sat their daughters down at night, they spoke soothing words to them. Preparing their minds for their forthcoming marriage as other girls had done.
Why should young girls be subjected to such pain and suffering? Is this just to conform to the norms of the society likewise the influence of peer pressure.
The parents too? To be accepted by other parents and the community whose young girls have been mutilated.
Morning came, the cock crowed again. The morning sun shining through doors and windows defines a new and bright day. But then people flowed in and out of a hut, shaking their heads in horror, hands clasped together –sighing. Cries of sorrow followed suit. Something bad happened. Death has taken one of the girls. He has had his fill joyfully.
Death, Oh! Death has taken a beloved away. Also, death crept in upon them in the mid of the night like a thief in the night, rest assured everyone was asleep. He went ahead into the hut and served himself.
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The morning sun rage on, smacking on people’s faces. People felt its rage and sat under shades, cowered in fear and shame. They hummed sorrowful songs. Each left to his thoughts.
How could things have gone wrong? They have always been careful enough of how they perform the practice.
The girl’s mother sat miserably on the mat, crying profusely in regret. Her daughter had died. Death took her away.
This didn’t discontinue the practice that has always been, they still brought girls to be cut.
Then they came into the land with large cars, they were dressed nicely and smartly like those people we see on that thing we usually go to see at Mr. U’s house. Mr. U calls it Tv. We go to watch it sometimes when we get back from the central school.
Mr. U’s house is situated right at the pathways that lead to the village square. They came. The WHO and spoke to the village head. Afterward, they spoke to the women asking basic questions from them. Educating them on the dangers of cutting their daughters and putting a stop to immoral traditional practices.
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They held meetings in the village square, public gatherings and educated the people. The people opposed their teachings. Clearly, they showed they had no use for the enlightenment they got. However, the WHO persisted, making known their rights to them.
We have come to the age of civilization, modernity at its peak. Young girls and women’s rights shouldn’t be violated. They have the right to live in conditions that enable them to enjoy good health and health care.