With Saba inside the living room, the mother closed the door.

Don’t worry. I will expel her demons, the midwife said to the mother. Then she lit the charcoal, and instead of normal frankincense gum, she used berbere spice.

Saba knew the type of punishment about to come, she had had a few of them already, all when she’d disobeyed her mother. Like a few months earlier, when her mother had asked Saba to do the chores instead of Hagos, because people were talking.

So what? Saba had responded. We are both happy, why can you not just let it be?

The midwife pulled Saba by the arm. Come and sit here.

What have I done to deserve this? the mother cried. God, why have you given me a mute son and a daughter who is deaf to me?

She was made to sit in a chair. As her mother sobbed, she tried to guess her crime this time. Perhaps it had to do with her studies, for which she isolated herself in her room day and night, as she worked to achieve the results she needed for a scholarship to the university. But it could have also been because her mother had walked in on her while she was masturbating a few days before.

The berbere smoke coiled towards the ceiling fan which had hung still ever since the generator left by their grandmother had been taken by the dergue. Since then Saba had to study by candlelight or by the light of the oil lamp.

Saba coughed as she undressed. She waited for the cover to be thrown over her head, the burner with chilli to be placed between her legs, so that her bad spirits would burn in the smoke. It had always amazed Saba how her mother and the midwife thought of her traits as though they were aliens who’d come to reside inside her that they could chase away with fire. But Saba had chosen to be this way, stubborn, focused, unrelenting in her pursuit of excellence. She was proud of the trait these two women kept accusing her of as if it was an insult: being manly.

But then, and to her horror, the midwife knelt in front of Saba and parted her legs, peering closely. How could you lie to me? she asked, shaking Saba’s mother. Why didn’t you do it?

Saba’s mother trembled, looking away from the midwife.

Who will take your daughter as a wife now? The midwife emptied the jar of berbere onto the incense burner.

It was her grandmother, the mother said. She vowed she would cut my head if I ever touched Saba.

Go and get me a razor now, the midwife demanded.

Saba’s mother didn’t move.

The midwife cast a blanket over both the incense holder and Saba.

Did you not hear what I said? This explains why Saba is different to all the other girls I have delivered. Oh Lord, I ask your forgiveness.

Between the coughs, the sharp pains in her chest, the unbearable smell, Saba wondered what this thing was that had enraged the midwife. What did the midwife see between her thighs that drove her to fury?