The Scars of An African Girl , livre ebook

186

pages

English

Ebooks

2024

Écrit par
Esther Ebireri

Publié par
Malthouse Press

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186

pages

English

Ebooks

2024

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Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne En savoir plus

Publié par

Malthouse Press

Date de parution

20 août 2024

Nombre de lectures

EAN13

9789786086750

Langue

English

Poids de l'ouvrage

2 Mo

Muriel is watching her favourite TV programme when Izobo walks through the living room, into the bedroom she shares with her sisters. This is not the first time Muriel is seeing this woman in their house. Though only ten at the time, Muriel still remembers the horror that filled her heart; as the cries of Sandra (her eldest sister), filled the entire house after Izobo arrived in the house. On asking why Sandra was crying, her mother had told her that Sandra was being turned into a complete woman. Muriel didn't understand. When she tried to ask, Mother had dismissed her in one of her usual ways. But Muriel is determined to find out this time. So, she peeps through the keyhole, into the room where Christabel is locked in with the priestess. She watches with horror, as blood splashes on the mat on which Christabel lays: as the priestess bents over her. As Christabel lay on the mat, groaning in pains, Muriel remembers again, the sound of cries and screams that came out of that room the first time Izobo visited their house. Then, it struck her: sooner or later, it would be her turn! But Muriel was nothing like her sisters: she was strong-willed, resilient and obstinate; and would not let anyone lock her up in a room with a woman who brings nothing, but pain and agony into their home...

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Publié par

Malthouse Press

Date de parution

20 août 2024

Nombre de lectures

EAN13

9789786086750

Langue

English

Poids de l'ouvrage

2 Mo

THE SCARS OFAN AFRICAN GIRL

Esther Ebireri

iii

Malthouse Press Limited

Lagos

Port Harcourt

Zaria

5 Adele Street, Off Warehouse Road Apapa, Lagos Mainland, Nigeria E-mail: malthouselagos@gmail.com Facebook:@malthouselagos Twitter:@malthouselagos Instagram:@malthouselagos Tel: 0802 600 3203

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system or translated into any language or computer language, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, chemical, thermal, manual or otherwise, without the prior consent in writing of Malthouse Press Limited, Lagos, Nigeria.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade, or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in writing, in any form of binding or cover other than in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

International Distributors:

African Books Collective Ltd, Oxford, UK orders@africanbookscollective.com Website: http://www.africanbookscollective.com

DEDICATION The Scars of an African Girl is dedicated to my three daughters: Daisy, Freda and Michelle Praise-Ebireri.

AUTHORS REMARKS Asa woman born and raised in Africa, I grew up with the belief that female circumcision was normal for both male and female. For the male, it was mainly for cosmetic purpose; and for the female, it was to prevent promiscuity. I, and a lot of other girls my age, accepted this propositions without questioning their validity. However, as I got into high school, I was taught for the first time that female circumcision was not only irrelevant but harmful. However, to many uneducated (and even some educated) African parents, this act is more of a tradition than a medical procedure. And, for this reason, they have continued to hold on to it in spite of its many risks and disadvantages. I have written this book on the premise that if our uneducated African parents cannot be convinced to stop female circumcision, surely, our girls can be adequately equipped with the knowledge of not only its uselessness, but also of its many dangers which should help them to generate the much needed willpower to say no. By this book, I am lending my voice to my three daughters; and to those of the several million African girls,to say no to female genital mutilation.

Esther Ebireri

Chapter One Muriel peered into the key hole for the sixth time in five minutes. She could see Christabel lying helplessly on the raffia mat, spread across the head of the bed in the middle of the room. Izogo, the community priestess, was standing on the head of the bed. In her hand were a small wooden bowl; and a small plastic spoon. Muriel could see her mouth moving as she turned the spoon from one side of the bowl to the other. There was a small skin bag on the floor next to her foot. She pulled out a large feather. It was like that of a peacock. She dipped the feather into the concoction in the bowl. She splashed it on the wall opposite her, where Christabel was lying on the floor. Christabel squirmed as drops of the concoction landed on her almost nude body. Muriels heart raged, as she looked at Christabel lying on that floor. The whole scenario reminded her of a portion of the Bible that readslike a sheep being led to the slaughter, he opened not his mouth. She was trying to recall the exact place where she had read it in the Bible. When she heard sounds of footsteps along the hallway. Quickly, she trotted into the little space separating the bedrooms from the living room. Her mother was coming out from her bedroom. God, please, let her not come this way,she prayed. She could not bear to see her mothers reaction if she caught her peeping into the room where Christabel was being circumcised. Christabel was older by almost four years. So, Muriel knew she was not supposed to see her unclothed. Mother always emphasised it was disrespectful to look at an elder who is unclothed.

The Scars of An African Girl

Four years before, her eldest sister, Sandra, had gone through the same ordeal. Muriel was only twelve then. But she could still remember the screams and squeals. It was in this same house; in that same room, where her sister now lay in front of the same woman. She had asked her mother then, what was happening to Sandra. Mother, as they fondly called her, had told her that her sister was about to become a complete woman. What do you mean Mother? Isnt Sister Sandra a complete woman already?She had asked. Have you heard of the wordcircumcise?Muriel remembered a story her Sunday school teacher had taught them a few months before. It was about how God made a covenant with Abraham and had asked him to circumcise himself and all his male children. Is that what that woman is doing to Christabel? Mother nodded. But she is not a boy. Our Sunday school teacher taught us that God instructed Abraham to circumcise his boys, not his girls.Well, this is slightly different from what Abraham did. This one is our tradition and culture. Our tradition says a woman needs to be circumcised in order to make a good wife.Muriel had wanted to say something more, but Mother had brought the conversation to an abrupt end by announcing that it was time for dinner. She never got a chance to talk about it after that day. Muriel shoved herself into the small space behind the door. As she did, she bumped against the door handle. It made a squeaky sound. This caused Mother to turn around. Mother stood still for what seemed like a few seconds. She turned her head from one side of the hallway to the other.

Esther Ebireri

Is someone there?she asked. Muriels heart almost jumped out of her mouth. She could see Mother through the opening between the door and the doorframe. She made a U-turn into the guest room. Muriel waited until Mother came out of the guest room, and back into her own room. The room she shared with her father until two years ago when he died suddenly from a heart attack. Mother had lived a lonely, solitary life since then. She had thrown herself completely into her fish business. Every Tuesday and Saturday, she would travel to the nearby riverine community to buy fish in large quantities. Every Monday and Friday, she would sell these fishes at a market in one of the neighbouring villages. She also had a few customers who came to the house to buy to re-sell. When Mother was not in the market, she was mostly in her room: counting money and balancingher account.

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