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12/17/08

Fatiha ( Part 2)


Fatiha was a girl of the Desert and like most girls of the desert, she was used to leaving loved ones behind. However, sometimes, there are people who come into our life and make us feel so unique, people with whom we have so much in common and so much love that losing them breaks our heart.

Fatiha was only 10 years old when Munir left but she cried as she had never cried before. She cried for the loss of her friend, the loss of her fiancé and the loss of her confident. Tired of crying, the thought that one day she would meet Munir again made her feel better. After that day, Fatiha smiled less. Each night, she would look at the stars on the sky and think that wherever he was, Munir was seeing the same sky and the same stars. Every night, she blew kisses to the wind and begged the desert wind to bring them to Munir. From where he was, Munir was feeling the wind and reminiscing the days he spent with Fatiha. Every day, the wind blew kisses to him, soft and sweet.

One day, Fatiha woke up in the middle of the night and saw her mother next to her. She told her “Wake up Fatiha, we have to go somewhere”.
Years later, when she thought about that night, she told herself that it would have been better to just run. But because we do not know the meaning of things unless they happen, at the moment they’re happening, destiny makes itself. It is in those moments, that without knowing it, our destiny is shaped because we all have appointments with her. Appointments that cannot be missed because Lady Destiny knows exactly where and how to find us when the time is right.

That night, Fatiha followed her mother and they went to a hut around the camp. Without knowing it, she had an appointment with fate. Inside the hut was a very old woman without a single tooth in her mouth. A long scarf was covering her head from her hair to her shoulders and of her face, only her eyes were visible. Big, round, red, scary, sharp, her eyes were similar to those of an owl. With her wrinkled and shriveled skin, the old lady looked like an ugly, shapeless portrait compared to Fatiha's beauty and youthfulness.

Fatiha's mum and the old lady exchanged elusive words and Fatiha's mother asked her to get undressed and lay down. Fatiha didn’t know it yet, but she had just encountered the one who genitally mutilates girls, the nightmare of every young girl and the killer of womanhood. The old woman had in her hands a blade that still carried blood spots. She looked at Fatiha with her owl eyes, a big smile on her face. Her toothless mouth was enraptured, widely opened and gave an image of a black hole. At that point, Fatiha was really scarred and ran behind her mother. The mother put her down and put a piece of wood in her mouth. The old lady opened Fatiha's legs and she started struggling with her violently. However, with a strength that was surprising due to her old age, the old lady kept Fatiha on the floor. Fatiha heard the sound of the blade between her legs. She felt the pain of the human flesh being cut. The blade was going up and down depriving her of her womanhood. A stream of blood was flowing between her legs. She wanted to scream her lungs out but not a single sound came out of her mouth. Then it was a complete blackout, Fatiha had passed out...

(To Be continued) Only 1 part left :)

7 comments:

Ms.Unique said...

Subhan Allah .... Oh God ! I was so shocked .... poor Fatiha ...... :(

muslimahh said...

Oh no.... :(

Empress Anisa said...

Hijabee... you've been tagged!

http://thebarefootempress.blogspot.com/

Amina said...

i know that was going to happen when you said that her mother woke her up in the middle of the night...this practice should be erradicated..
have you seen Ousmane Sembene (que la terre lui soit legere)'s last movie Moolade??
The story kinda reminds me too of Waris' Flower Desert....
you should think about entering in short stories competition..

hijabee said...

Sorry for shocking you muslimah and Ms.Unique :(

Empress Anisa,
Thanks for the tag, I will do it this afternoon insh'Allah :)

Amina,
I know, it is a sad practice, can't even imagine how much damage it causes. Yes I saw Moolade last year and was troubled by it just like I was troubled and inspired by Waris' Flower desert. A magnificent piece and one of my favourite biographies to this day.

Mona said...

I love your writing! On to part 3!

Jamaican Hijabi said...

:( :( :( oh no poor Fatiha