The trick is to mentally transfer the pain to another part of your body, somewhere you can tolerate it, said Saba.

OK, Dr Saba, said Nasnet, chuckling.

Saba paused. Dr Saba, she mumbled to herself. Her dimples deepened. Returning her attention to Nasnet, she asked: Where does it hurt the most?

Nasnet guided Saba’s hand to her legs, stopping between her thighs.

Saba separated Nasnet’s legs. She didn’t flinch, as if the act of looking was also a way of reclaiming Nasnet from Tedros, and from all the men before him. Saba blew her breath on Nasnet’s vagina as Nasnet held her knees up. Then, she kissed it. And with her tongue she erased Tedros’s presence.

Nasnet moaned.

Saba walked head down to the Khwaja for her English lesson. She paused now and then to look up at the sky as if to gather her thoughts, and take a deep breath. Boys ran past her. A father carried his daughter up the hill, piggyback. Faster Aboi, faster, the girl urged her father. Saba spotted a woman in conversation with the Khwaja outside his hut. So Saba lingered some distance away.

The Khwaja called his student over to him. Saba, Saba, come.

If it’s too late, I can come tomorrow, she said to her teacher.

Time is irrelevant here, he said, putting on his glasses. Should we start?

Silence.

Saba, is everything fine? asked the Khwaja.

Have you ever been to see Nasnet? Saba asked.

The Khwaja turned up the wick of his oil lamp. No, he said, leaning back in his chair. I have never been to any sex worker in my life. He took a sip of his water. Trust me. Now, let’s begin studying.

The Khwaja translated an article about animal welfare in the English countryside for her. This article, he said, contains useful words. After the horror of two wars, governments in the West are done with killing each other and now they are focused on stopping the murder of animals. They pass one law after another to protect their pets. We have a long way to go, Saba.

They might not be killing their people but they are helping the dergue kill us, Saba said. They say that the planes that flew over our town and the bombs they dropped were given by America and Russia. And do you know why they gave all that support to the dergue?

I do, said the Khwaja. I never heard you talk about this, but I do.

The Khwaja handed Saba a piece of paper. This evening, I want you to write sentences with words you’ve learnt so far.

Yes, I like this, said Saba, adding in English: Go let us.

The Khwaja chuckled. Indeed. Let us go would be more appropriate but not to worry for now. It will come.

Saba left the Khwaja’s hut holding her piece of paper with her English writing which the Khwaja had said he would not correct for now.

Saba repeated her sentences as she headed home late at night. The midwife, who had left a pregnant woman’s hut a few houses away from the Khwaja’s, had seen Saba leaving his hut. Saba learnt this the following morning when she woke up to her mother’s muttered objections: That is not possible, Saba is not like that.