It was late in the evening, the day before D-day. In Aranatama, the sixth month was one of great celebration.
All girls aged fourteen gathered to celebrate their rite of passage to womanhood. Many girls gathered but few women emerged.
The criteria for judging were vague, but I had always looked forward to D-Day. My mother had died during my birth and I couldn’t wait to do her and my father proud.
The winner would go around the community with her head held high and receive gifts from the richest men and I was determined to be the one.
The older girls never talked about it, and I stood by the stream, mentally preparing myself for the morrow.
I filled my pitcher and turned to go when Mariama arrived. Mariama was two years my senior and a very quiet girl. We always greeted ourselves but said nothing more.
Everyone knew that her sister Hillama never became a woman, but I never knew why.
“Good evening, Mariama,” I greeted her, passing by.
She snatched my hands and my pitcher fell
“Layla, you must not partake in the rites tomorrow,” she said urgently.
“Why? Are you mad?” I said snatching my hands back.
“Don’t go! Layla. You have a choice, I didn’t. Hilla didn’t!”
“I don’t understand. Why?”
She tore her wrapper with force and bared her body. I screamed and pointed,
“What is that?”
Her vagina was sown with a big thread, and the thing that’s up in mine was cut in hers.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“They did it to me but you don’t have to go through it too.” I looked at her, shook my head and ran home.
Panting, “liar, liar, liar” until dawn.
“I have waited years for this day to come, and Mariama’s lies won’t stop me,” I muttered under my breath, as I walked into the town square the next morning.
I was running late, but papa always said it was better late than never. The girls had moved, and there was a long line in front of Mame Shaga’s house.
I passed through the back, to go and see how the process will be. I saw Mame in the hut with Kora. I heard her scream and all I could see was blood.
I staggered away from the window and into the arms of Aunty.
“Come on,” she said, “you are next.”