The Ghost of My Sister

Somewhere in Africa

Sitting beneath a Mango tree, I stared at my daughter who stood at a short distance, howling stones at the ripe mango fruits. My eyes explored all her features, she was growing up to be a replica of my late sister. I should be happy about it, but the growing curves on her body wouldn’t let me. It reminded me of pain instead.

Puberty was gradually setting on her, and with it my worry. For, she will soon be expected to face the same thing we have faced, just like the generations that came before us. The the old woman with tattered skin, wretched eyes with a face devoid of compassion. Her mouth reddened by the constant bites of kola nut. Yet the scariest thing about her is the sharp pieces of metals in her hands.

The ones that tear apart a piece of your feminine divinity, cutting your flesh as if it was a goat for the slaughter, a sacrifice in the name of culture.

“This damn culture!” My mouth is still bitter from the glass of the pain it served me fifteen years ago when our parents succumbed to death, leaving me with a younger sister to cater for. We had relatives, but we were each other’s strength and happiness, we were soulmates.

Until oneday the Mblacha festival arrived. A festivity where all the young maidens would have a part of their womanhood removed. I remember the fear in my sister’s eyes, I remember her unwillingness to be part of such a culture. But, I of all knew she must go through it, otherwise she will be forever stigmatized in the village. And her identity as a woman will always be questioned. So, I convinced and cajoled her into agreeing, something I have lived to regret.

Half a day after the Mblacha had clipped the wings of my sister’s womanhood, her blood was still flowing like the river Nile and wouldn’t stop. Sadly, not even the most knowledgeable of elders could save her from the grasp of death.

Today, my arms are still sour from the last hug she gave me, her cries still echo in my head, and my eyes still remember her tears.

So, I have vowed, just like most women in in the village. That “Our daughters shall never suffer the same fate as us” and we will stand by our word!