PART ONE

Long lost is my heart and the feelings that I crave for. For I have no heart whatsoever to share pains with any creature. I remembered those times when I walked whole. With my being been attracted to nothing. I craved for the rain and with my small eyes I watched the watchful heavens to bless our lands with the tears of the creator. And like my frail little heart, my wishes came through. The creator would show his love for me by pouring his tears like a vapour down on us. With my body whole and entire, I would hurriedly run under the rain and dance blissfully without reserve. Then my dance would attract my kind, those other girls who knew nothing about the pains of life. We would sing all the joyous songs taught to us by our mothers and make merry beneath the tears of love formed by the creator himself. Those days were the best days of my life because it can't be traded for anything less.

Then came another season. A time when the rains ceased to fall and the dryness of the land had hit so hard on my people. We were told to do the turu dance. A dance that was reserved for every woman in my tribe. One that would be danced once in a lifetime. Mama had told me some days ago that I would be dancing the turu dance to complete my womanhood. A dance that was a showcasing of our culture. A dance that displayed our nakedness before the watchful women. Of course, I wasn't shy to dance before other women. Not because I had no shame, but because it was performed by other girls of the same grade with me. After the dancing spree which was second to none, we lined up with the signal of Amina. I was the third in the line according to our age...