The Cut: A short story on a young girls Female Genital Mutilation experience.

Sagals Story

As the sun set on the Indian ocean, the monotonous drone from a congregation of shimbiro reverberated as they flew majestically across the sky, their jet black wings resembling gushing waterfalls of tar. Sagal was perched on top of an eroding stone wall opposite Habaryer Shamso's house, her gaze never wavering from the spectacle, as her thin, restless legs constantly scuffed against the wall.

The luminous sphere gradually dipped underneath the ocean, but not before it briefly transformed the ocean into a mass of blood orange. She squealed in excitement. This had become a routine for Sagal, whose zeal for the sight never faltered.

''Kaale Sagal!'', her mother called out to her, as she popped her head through the kitchen window. A forced grin appeared on her lips. ''I have someone I want you to meet.''

Sagal thought it odd that someone would visit their home at this time. They barely had visitors, apart from Edo Amino who came weekly from central Bosaso, but even her visits were restricted to daylight hours. She hopped off the wall and dusted herself off. As she approached the front door, distant murmurs of hushed voices where audible.

As she entered, she was abruptly met in the hallway by her mother's passive aggressive murmurs, usually reserved for when someone of importance came to visit.

''You look a mess naaya,'' her mother whispered, wiping the dirt from Sagal's face with the corner of her garbasaar. ''She's going to think that I don't look after you,'' she continued, as she let out a disgruntled sigh. Sagal could sense her mother's edgy disposition, as she hastily ushered Sagal into the living room.

An elderly woman in her seventies was intently stirring a cup of shaah and failed to notice the two of them come in. Sagal's mother cleared her throat to get her attention and pushed Sagal towards her.
''This is my daughter Sagal,'' she said hesitantly.

The woman lifted her bony hand signalling Sagal to kiss it, to which Sagal obliged. She was a peculiar looking woman. Her features reminded Sagal of an eagle; sharp and refined, with an intensely penetrating gaze. Her russet complexion was etched with a plethora of wrinkles, most notably on her forehead. She pursed together her wrinkled lips and took a long sip from the shaah, her gaze never wavering from Sagal as she surveyed her from top to bottom.

''She looks very young for an eight year old, Fartuun'' the elderly woman finally said to her mother. She reached out her cold, wrinkled fingers and gently pinched Sagal's right cheek. Sagal flinched from the contact, finding it strange that someone from such a warm country could possess hands so icy.

Sagal started to grow evermore suspicious about this woman and her intentions. Why was this woman even here? Was she one of her mother's relatives? Had she come to sell her mother material for her baati and diraac stall in the market?

''This is Edo Ijabo,'' her mother said nervously, putting any of Sagal's doubts to rest. ''She's the Edo that's going to be doing your guditaan tomorrow.''

Guditaan? Sagal froze. She turned to her mother, whose face looked ashen and defeated. Everything started to fall into place. The subtle hints, the awkward conversations about womanhood with her mother the past week all made sense now.

''Tommorow?'' Sagal repeated. Her usually loud voice, had turned into a mere whisper. It all felt like a cleverly orchestrated ambush, and Sagal had been none the wiser. She felt betrayed and couldn't believe her mother could be so calculating.

''Why not?'' Edo Ijabo said nonchalantly, ''The sooner the better,'' she continued, taking another sip of shaah. She quickly gauged the horror in Sagal's face and attempted to assure her.