“Shame!”
“Ashawo!”
“Look at her, dirty thing!”
“Get away from here! You smelly harlot!”
I try to block out these insults as I walk by. Mama is in front of me, holding my hand even as I cower behind her. Sadness engulfs me. I am not an Ashawo. They open their mouths to mock me when it is one of their sons that put me in this position. Had he not raped me, I wouldn’t have given birth at my young age and also have vesicovaginal fistula: big grammar for the big problem I have. I am not an Ashawo.

1
avatar
Sponsored

Leave a Reply

Forgot your password?

Enter your account data and we will send you a link to reset your password.

Your password reset link appears to be invalid or expired.

Log in

Privacy Policy

Close
of

    Processing files…