So why didn’t you marry then, after she left?

Eyob didn’t answer. He pressed his palms onto the arms of his chair and pushed himself up. He entered the hut and shut the door. Saba sat straight, soapy water dripped from her hands. Tedros’s eyes rested on her naked feet. They travelled up her legs, free from her dress that had slid above her knees to expose new bruises, old gashes and purple thighs. He went into the kitchen.

Saba hung the clothes on a line and as she looked up the hill, she saw Jamal digging two long poles into the ground. A large white sheet was drying on a clothesline in front of his hut. His flat cap fell as he straightened his back and wiped his forehead.

THE RAZOR

Weeks after Saba returned from the hospital having had treatment for her burns, the midwife entered her room holding a razor, the mother behind her. Saba had yet to understand why the midwife had become obsessed with her vagina, but the woman’s persistence about executing this rite, about ridding Saba of a piece she carried on her body unaware, made her wonder if it was for her own good, as important as washing the dirt off her skin, as necessary as amputating an infected limb. But the thing the midwife aimed her razor at as her mother restrained her was the very thing Saba touched to pleasure herself. So that afternoon, Saba called for Hagos as she fought to release herself from her mother’s grip. Hagos. Help me. Hagos?

No answer.

Saba pushed her mother out of the way. The midwife, though, blocked the door with her body. Do you want to be a prostitute? she said to Saba, fury in her eyes. Please sit down. We are doing it for your own good.

WOMEN DYING LIKE MEN

A meeting was called by the aid workers. The Englishman and his assistant stood on a couple of chairs placed next to each other. Saba sweated. She wondered why the aid coordinator liked to have his meetings when the sun was at its strongest.

Saba inspected the Englishman’s tanned face as the athlete, standing ahead of her, joked to the light-skinned assistant that soon he would look the more English of the two.

Hopefully we will be back home before we see such a miracle, said the praise poet.

The crowd laughed, and a few shouts of Amen rang out. Saba was hugged from behind. She turned her head to find Zahra’s chin resting on her shoulder. I love you, said the fighter’s daughter.

Saba caressed Zahra’s cheeks.

Do you want to come to our hut tonight to read my mother’s pamphlets? Zahra asked.

Yes, Saba said. If your grandmother will let me touch them.

Zahra laughed. She’s just worried they will be damaged.

Let’s listen, said Saba. The Englishman is talking.

We have good news to share with you, said the Englishman via his interpreter, after paying tribute to the elders for their patience and for managing to maintain peace in the refugee camp. I am happy to report that our request for a large storage building has been accepted. We will soon have storage large enough to stock better food and extra blankets. God willing.