later Bakhita, one of Grandma’s best friends, came to visit. Grandma called me over, telling me that Bakhita had a present for me. I went to her hut all smiles, as I had forgotten what had happened previously. But as soon as I stepped inside Grandma grabbed me, and instantly I knew what they were up to.
Grandma imprisoned me on her lap in a viselike grip. I was screaming and fighting like a wild cat as Bakhita came at me with the razor blade. She tried to make the first cut to my left temple, but I kicked her away with my legs. As she fell backward the razor blade sliced into my cheek, right next to my nose. I felt the warm blood trickling down my face. I sunk my teeth into Grandma’s arm, biting down as hard as I could, while thrashing around with my legs so that Bakhita couldn’t get near me.
“I can’t do this!” Bakhita cried. “She’s like a madwoman!”
“You have to do it!” Grandma yelled back at her. “You have to do it!”
“Look, how can I with her going crazy like this? It’s impossible. I’ll end up hurting her.”
I still had my teeth sunk deep into Grandma’s arm, as the two of them proceeded to argue it out. Grandma hadn’t so much as flinched: To do so would have been to acknowledge that I was hurting her. Eventually, once I had landed a few more good kicks on her, Bakhita threw down the razor blade and refused to go on.
Grandma turned on me. “Cowardly girl!” she spat out. “Where is your bravery?
Your bravery?
Don’t you know you are a
Zaghawa
?
A Zaghawa!
Coward!”
I ran to my mum’s hut in tears, although secretly I was happy that I’d escaped.
“Why is Grandma so horrible?” I sobbed. “She’s always beating us and trying to hurt us. Look what she’s done now!”
My mum took me in her arms, and tended to my cut face. Then she went to have words with Grandma.
“Look, she’s got a very hard head, has this one. She won’t listen and she won’t obey. Don’t try to cut her again. There’s no point, and you really might hurt her.”
Grandma didn’t object. As far as she was concerned she’d washed her hands of me. But when my father came home that evening and saw what they’d done, he became so angry. I told my father not to get too upset, because I’d fought them off and escaped once more. They’d hardly managed to cut me at all. And now Grandma appeared to have given up trying to do so once and for all.
That seemed to improve his temper no end. He held out his arms to me, singing softly:
Come here my child,
I have a hug for you . . .
He took me on his lap, ruffled my hair, and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. “While I’m here no one can do anything to hurt you. You’re safe here with me.”
Of course, my father meant every word that he said.
But no man is invincible, no matter how much a little girl might wish him to be so.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mo, Omer, and Me
One day my mother awoke with a terrible pain in her ear. We were worried that an insect might have crawled inside during the night. Grandma inspected the ear, and concluded that we had to pour in some hot sesame oil to force the insect to crawl out. My mother lay down on Grandma’s bed. She heated up the oil, tested it with her finger, and when it was just right she poured a little inside. She asked how it felt, and my mother said it was quite nice, sort of warm and soothing.
Grandma proceeded to pour in enough oil to fill up my mum’s ear, and then we sat and waited. And we waited and waited and waited. Finally, Grandma had to concede that no insect had come crawling out. There was only one thing stronger than sesame oil, Grandma said, and that was gasoline. I’d never heard of anyone having gasoline poured into their ear, but Grandma insisted it would do the job.
She went to fetch the can of gasoline that my father used for his Land Rover. My father had warned me about that gas can—it was dangerous, and I wasn’t allowed to touch it. I wondered if it really was the right thing to
Grandma imprisoned me on her lap in a viselike grip. I was screaming and fighting like a wild cat as Bakhita came at me with the razor blade. She tried to make the first cut to my left temple, but I kicked her away with my legs. As she fell backward the razor blade sliced into my cheek, right next to my nose. I felt the warm blood trickling down my face. I sunk my teeth into Grandma’s arm, biting down as hard as I could, while thrashing around with my legs so that Bakhita couldn’t get near me.
“I can’t do this!” Bakhita cried. “She’s like a madwoman!”
“You have to do it!” Grandma yelled back at her. “You have to do it!”
“Look, how can I with her going crazy like this? It’s impossible. I’ll end up hurting her.”
I still had my teeth sunk deep into Grandma’s arm, as the two of them proceeded to argue it out. Grandma hadn’t so much as flinched: To do so would have been to acknowledge that I was hurting her. Eventually, once I had landed a few more good kicks on her, Bakhita threw down the razor blade and refused to go on.
Grandma turned on me. “Cowardly girl!” she spat out. “Where is your bravery?
Your bravery?
Don’t you know you are a
Zaghawa
?
A Zaghawa!
Coward!”
I ran to my mum’s hut in tears, although secretly I was happy that I’d escaped.
“Why is Grandma so horrible?” I sobbed. “She’s always beating us and trying to hurt us. Look what she’s done now!”
My mum took me in her arms, and tended to my cut face. Then she went to have words with Grandma.
“Look, she’s got a very hard head, has this one. She won’t listen and she won’t obey. Don’t try to cut her again. There’s no point, and you really might hurt her.”
Grandma didn’t object. As far as she was concerned she’d washed her hands of me. But when my father came home that evening and saw what they’d done, he became so angry. I told my father not to get too upset, because I’d fought them off and escaped once more. They’d hardly managed to cut me at all. And now Grandma appeared to have given up trying to do so once and for all.
That seemed to improve his temper no end. He held out his arms to me, singing softly:
Come here my child,
I have a hug for you . . .
He took me on his lap, ruffled my hair, and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. “While I’m here no one can do anything to hurt you. You’re safe here with me.”
Of course, my father meant every word that he said.
But no man is invincible, no matter how much a little girl might wish him to be so.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mo, Omer, and Me
One day my mother awoke with a terrible pain in her ear. We were worried that an insect might have crawled inside during the night. Grandma inspected the ear, and concluded that we had to pour in some hot sesame oil to force the insect to crawl out. My mother lay down on Grandma’s bed. She heated up the oil, tested it with her finger, and when it was just right she poured a little inside. She asked how it felt, and my mother said it was quite nice, sort of warm and soothing.
Grandma proceeded to pour in enough oil to fill up my mum’s ear, and then we sat and waited. And we waited and waited and waited. Finally, Grandma had to concede that no insect had come crawling out. There was only one thing stronger than sesame oil, Grandma said, and that was gasoline. I’d never heard of anyone having gasoline poured into their ear, but Grandma insisted it would do the job.
She went to fetch the can of gasoline that my father used for his Land Rover. My father had warned me about that gas can—it was dangerous, and I wasn’t allowed to touch it. I wondered if it really was the right thing to
Similar Books
