It’s cold and scary in the forest. All alone with just my thoughts to keep me company. I can hear voices getting closer and closer. I run for dear life, far away from home to a place unknown. All I can think of is “Will I live to see the light of day?”
A few months ago, I played in the same forest with little worries to cripple my dreams. My thoughts would run wild as I build castles in the sky. It was a simple village full of traditions and practices so deep-rooted that nobody dared question. It was passed from generation to generation. I was the youngest of eight. I was particularly fond of Nyota who was two years older than me. Just like her name, she was bright and vibrant. We did everything together.
There were rites of passage and girls were not exempted from them. Nobody spoke of the specifics except that girls become women and clean. Going though it was never up for discussion. My sisters being older went through the rite first. Everything was set up. My aunts came to conduct it. When night fell, my sisters were taken away to a hut just outside the compound. I was not allowed there. Out of curiosity, I sneaked out to get a glimpse of what was happening. I peeped through the cracks of the wood and a sudden horror pounced. Everything was gruesome; Nyota was gagged and held down against her will to allow a woman with a razor cut her genitals. Her screams fell on deaf ears. I was left frozen. Indeed, curiosity killed…
A few days later, Nyota died from excessive bleeding, whereas my other sister was ever in pain. As I held on to her lifeless body I could not help but question everything. “Is this right?” We are only children yet nobody cared to help. It was tradition.
Soon a ray of hope would shine upon me. A group of women would set up camp in the town centre seeking to help girls escape from harmful traditional practices such as Female Genital Mutilation. I wanted to study and not be married off.
I could see my father meeting with potential suitors for me to marry me off after my rite of passage. That was the last stroke on the donkeys back. I then decided to run for refuge.