Sunset in the North

Innocence Exploited

The sun rays slowly started fading away as they pierced through her lustful eyes as she opened them, Looking like she woke up from a deep sweet dream..she was actually woken short of breath and with back pains and a slight sharp headache on her left side of the head, barely remembering what laid her to rest on a scrappy, dusty and leafy floor with her chest facing up.

Remembering that she was sent to fetch water by her mother, she quickly 

turned to her right side trying to get up and thats when she realised her legs were numb, sore and sticky.

At this point, that wasn't the only issue holding her down, she was quick to realise that there was no one around, she was, in a yellow-grassed thicket bush with strong cow-dung odour...with blowing winds from all directions, as if to start a quick rain....but what will such a flower do at such a time of the evening lost in the woods? ...and for the dung ...could it be an an animal? ..or a fierce beast of the wild?..or is it just the normal herders who passed by with goats?

She thought to herself not knowing where she was....She grimaced as she tried to see where the fresh blood a few metres to her right poured from...

Hajar was a 17 year old girl brought up in the warm hills of the North Eastern plains in the tiny village of Bula xawo in Mandera.

Beautiful as she is, she was raised with behaviours bound by culture and shaped by respect for the old and care for the young.

She was well known in her village to be a role model to the young and a young woman of respect and a total score for the one who will marry her.

She could cook, make the house, prepare the children for school and still go to school to learn.

An eye catcher for the old men in macwiis with the buldged out left cheeks outside her Bula👀

It isnt too much beauty untill one will realise that she was raised in an islamic background that taught her how to cover every little curve she had to the point where only she...knew of the blessing she had under her veil.

And that, being the only snack in the whole of Mandera that she never prepared herself...

Being the first born daughter in a family of nine, she grew up knowing that boys were known for football and heavy responsibilities of the house that her precious hands couldn't bear, even those that did not play football still didn't hang around girls.

As was the beauty of their culture that every boy is a brother till a father sees your father.

But if that was the case, then what in the blossoming worlds would've brought me to this woods, on this pricky floor without my scarf on, under this bush at this time?..she thought to herself as she followed the trace of the blood stains to her favourite dirać that she likes to wear...mysteriously dusty and far away from her???.

She took a deep breath as she swallowed her one more gulp of the dusty dry winds of the Eastern plains, hoping for the best....but expecting the worst...maybe just.....

Do you think i should continue?