DIRIE, Waris & MILLER, Cathleen

Desert flower

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Mama grabbed a piece of root from an old tree, then positioned me on the rock. She sat behind me, and pulled my head back against her chest, her legs straddling my body. I circled my arms around her thighs. My mother placed the root between my teeth. ‘Bite on this.‘ I was frozen with fear as the memory of Aman's tortured face suddenly flooded back before me . . . . I expected a big knife, but instead, out of the bag she pulled a tiny cotton sack . . . and fished out a broken razor blade. She spat on it and wiped it against her dress. While she was scrubbing, my world went dark as my mother tied a scarf around my eyes as a blindfold. The next thing I felt was my flesh, my genitals, being cut away. I heard the sound of the dull blade sawing back and forth through my skin . . . I honestly can't believe that this happened to me. I feel as if I were talking about somebody else. There's no way in the world I can explain what it feels like. It's like somebody is slicing through the meat of your thigh, or cutting off your arm, except this ist he most sensitive part of your body. However, I didn't move an inch, because I remembered Aman and knew there was no escape. I just sat there as if I were made of stone, telling myself the more I moved around, the longer the torture would take . . . and I prayed, Please, God, let it be over quickly. Soon it was, because I passed out.

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