Listening ears.

The noise of the generator next door still wasn’t enough to overwhelm Elder’s voice. His voice was loud enough to be heard several houses away. Sometimes, we wondered if he had his own in-built microphone.

“Are you calling me an illiterate?! He’s calling me an illiterate?” Elder roared from behind the door.

“Elder, no, that is not what he is---“ B’s mother cut in.

“That is exactly what I am saying! They have refused to see the light.” B’s father shouted equally as loud.

“You see now. So because you’ve gone to school, you are now wiser abi? So the grey hair on my head is for decoration?” Elder shrieked in Yoruba. It was Ondo Yoruba so B and I could barely tell the words apart.

“Elder, calm down. Please.” My father cut in. The blessed peacemaker. He said some words gently and all was quiet for a minute.

Tradition!

“Look, my children, what we are asking you to do is for your daughters’ sakes. This is a custom, a tradition, older than time itself. Our ancestors deemed it necessary to have their daughters purified. Are you wiser than them?! Ehn, tell me. Your wives went through the same process so what is the problem here? Wo, education cannot change our culture o. It is what must be done.” A relative cut in.

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“Ah, help me tell them o.” Grandma intoned. Her gele was a mess on her head as usual and she looked from my father to B’s father, hopeful. My mother watched with troubled eyes. Apparently, the situation on ground wasn’t one in which Maltina would help though the old people loved it.

Opposition.

“I still will not have this. I refuse to let my daughter be subjected to such inhumane and primitive tradition. Yes, it is one our ancestors cherished but must we continue in the mistakes of our ancestors?! Our ancestors were not right in everything they did!” B’s father hit the table with his fist.

“And you, you agree with this your idiot of a husband?” Elder pointed at B’s mother who looked very calm unlike my mother who was turning every minute in her seat.

“I support my husband fully on this.”

Different exclamations went into the air but B’s parents were unmoved.

“You nko? Is this also your decision?”

My father seemed agitated, wringing his hands. His discomfort was clearly etched on his face as he stared from one person to the other. His eyes finally settled on B’s father.

“I think we should let tradition prevail in this matter.” He managed to say

B’s father looked livid. “You’ll allow these people put your daughter’s privates on display? Damage her labia minora and God knows what else?! It’s genital mutiliation!!”

Retreat.

At this point, B and I creeped back into my room. They had forgotten to lock us in today when Elder and the relatives suddenly barged in.

“B, what is labia minora?”

“My mummy said it’s part of our bumbumsha.” That information seemed enough.

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Innocence.

“My Daddy said he won’t let them do it to us.” B said as she plopped on the bed. Fresh evening breeze filled the dark room and the moon was already out, a full moon.

“Do what?”

“Circumcise us na.”

I stopped in my tracks. “No o, it’s cleansing not circumcision. It’s for when we get married.”

B laughed and tucked a pillow in between her crossed legs. “Stay there. I asked Boma in school and my Daddy told me too. It’s very painful. Boma said we won’t be able to urinate for a while.” B used big words like urinate all time so I already knew it meant to weewee. I stayed quiet, chewing the insides of my mouth. I hoped my father would be bold like B’s father.

“They said bad things happen to girls who are not cleansed. They said they become ashewo.”

B smiled. “Daddy said it’s a lie. Do you know it’s old old women that do it? They do it in public sef…and they’ll touch you in your…eeew!” She broke off, giggling.

We waited in the dark for a while. We couldn’t hear their voices very clearly anymore so we lay on the bed and watched the curtain rise and fall with the rhythm of the breeze. I could hear B’s noisy breathing and in a minute, she’d probably be asleep.

“B?”

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t want any old woman to touch me there.” I whispered softly. B giggled and moved closer.

“Don’t worry, you---“

“B!”

We jumped up in fright and looked towards the window. Ojuju had finally come for B. I had warned her not to take mango in the night.

“B!”

Fright.

We held onto each other as we tried to figure out who or what was behind the looming curtains. With a little help from the moon, we realized it was B’s elder brother. We crept towards the window while B’s brother smiled down at us. I liked B’s brother so it was only natural for my hello to be two pitches higher than normal.

“You have to come with me, B. We are going to Ibadan tonight. Daddy called me to fetch you.”

B offered her hands without hesitation and he pulled her out of my room through the window. He carried her ten year old body gently. Still kneeling on the bed with my hands resting on the window sill. I waited for him to drop B and lift me out too. B and I went everywhere together since the day we were born. Instead, he looked at me with pity.

“Goodbye dear.”

As they walked out of sight, B and I kept looking at each other. We both had no idea that would be the last time we'd see each other.

Written by Oyeleye Ooreofeoluwa.

Oyeleye Ooreofeoluwa is an avid reader, a music lover and a Lawyer in the making. Born in the 90’s , she hopes to leave footprints in the sands of time. Wordpress – theblackwordsmith.wordpress.com Email – articulture99@gmail.com