Nasnet moved back and forth between her hut and the kitchen. Every time she saw Nasnet, Saba scrutinized her face, as if to unearth the pain, the unhappiness, that a sex worker must feel. She couldn’t imagine that Nasnet liked her job.

But Nasnet’s laughter infected Saba. She couldn’t remember laughing as much as when she was around her new boss – it was as if pleasure was what everyone sought and obtained in Nasnet’s presence. The next shift couldn’t come soon enough.

Her mother, though, found out about Saba’s new job soon after.

Late one morning, after she had arrived home from Eyob’s, Saba went straight in to lie on her blanket without acknowledging the midwife and the two other women sitting with her. Saba wanted to have a little nap before heading out to Nasnet.

What have I done to deserve this? Saba heard her mother’s complaint, but she snored, pretending to be sleeping.

And what will Mr Eyob say if he found out your daughter is working for a sex worker now? the midwife asked. He will abandon her. She doesn’t need the money. Eyob has plenty of it. She did it to spite you. Your dream is over before it started.

Why, what have I done to you?

Saba? Your mother is talking to you, get up and listen.

Saba could barely see the midwife’s green eyes through the smoke twisting off the incense burner. The hut was sweltering. Saba’s chest tightened.

Do you know how humiliating it is for a man to see someone he wants to marry working for a prostitute? Is that what you want to be too, a whore?

The midwife’s words snatched Saba out of her lethargy. She was up on her feet: No. I want to be a doctor. I want to make my own money, save my own money so I can go to school somewhere else. Now, I need to sleep.

Saba lifted her blanket off the floor, lay on the bare ground and spread the cover over herself, though she could still hear the women discussing the problem of Saba, talking at the same time, interrupting each other, yelling to make their point heard.

They complained about her stubbornness, her selfishness, her lack of sensitivity, complaints she had always ignored as if they were spoken in a foreign language. Saba wondered if it was possible for all these women to be wrong about her.

She is not young any more, the midwife said. When we were her age, we cared for our families and some of us even bore children. Saba’s only concern is herself. When was the last time I slept and ate without interruption? I am awake most nights going from one hut to another, attending pregnant women, caring for the sick. In our culture, for girls, the pain and feelings of others come first. But I promise you, I will expel your daughter’s demons. If she keeps on this path, you will die before your time. Look at you.