running like a frightened animal. All the way back to the house I whipped my cousin with a switch, as I had never been so disgusted with a child in my life.
That evening when her mother came home, the daughter cried about the spanking I had given her. Aunt L’uul was furious. “Why are you spanking this child?” she demanded. “You keep your
hands off my baby or I’m going to beat you up and see how you like it!” she shouted, and came toward me menacingly.
“Believe me, you don’t want to know the reason I spanked her, because you don’t want to know what I know! If you had seen what she did today, you would say she’s no daughter of yours. This child is out of control she’s like an animal.” My explanation did not make matters any better between the two of us. Suddenly after leaving me a thirteen-year-old girl to cope with three children under the age of ten, her daughter’s welfare was of major importance to her. My aunt came at me shaking her fist, threatening to beat me for what I’d done to her little angel. But I’d had enough not only from her, but from the whole world. “Look, you’re not going to touch me!” I screamed. “If you do, you’re going to wind up bald-headed.” This ended any discussion of anyone beating me, but I knew at this point I had to go. But where would I run to this time?
Raising my fist to knock on Aunt Sahru’s door, I thought, Here you go again, Waris. Sheepishly, I said hello when she answered the door. Auntie Sahru was Mama’s sister. And she had five children. This
fact, I felt, did not bode well for my happiness in her household, but what choice did I have? Become a pickpocket or beg for food on the street? Without going into details about my departure from Auntie L’uul’s, I asked if I could stay with her family for a while.
“You have a friend here,” she said to my surprise. “If you want to stay with us, you can. If you want to talk about anything, I’m here.” Things were off to a better start than I’d imagined. As expected, I began helping around the house. But Auntie Sahru’s oldest daughter, Fatima, was nineteen years old. The majority of the responsibility for running the house fell to her.
My poor cousin Fatima worked like a slave. She got up early each day and went to college, then came home at twelve-thirty to cook lunch, returned to school and came back again around six in the evening to make dinner. After dinner she would clean up, then study late into the night. For some reason her mother treated her differently, demanding much more from her than she did from any of the other children. But Fatima was good to me; she treated me like a friend, and at that time in my life I certainly needed one. However, the way she was treated by her mom seemed unfair to me, so I tried to help my cousin
in the kitchen at night. I didn’t know how to cook, but I tried to learn by watching her. The first time I ever tasted pasta was when Fatima made it, and I thought I was in heaven.
My responsibilities were largely cleaning, and to this day Auntie Sahru says I’m the best cleaner she ever had. I scrubbed and polished the house, which was hard work. But I definitely preferred cleaning to babysitting, especially after my adventures of the past few months.
Like Aman, Auntie Sahru continued to worry about my mother, and the fact that Mama was left without any older girls to help her with the work. My father might help with the animals, but he wouldn’t lift a finger to help with the cooking, or clothing, or making baskets, or taking care of the children. This was woman’s work, and Mama’s problem. After all, hadn’t he done his part by bringing home another wife to help? Yes, he certainly had. But I, too, had been worried about this issue since the dark morning when I last saw my mother. Whenever I thought of her, I remembered her face in the firelight the night before I left, and how tired she’d looked. While I was running across the
That evening when her mother came home, the daughter cried about the spanking I had given her. Aunt L’uul was furious. “Why are you spanking this child?” she demanded. “You keep your
hands off my baby or I’m going to beat you up and see how you like it!” she shouted, and came toward me menacingly.
“Believe me, you don’t want to know the reason I spanked her, because you don’t want to know what I know! If you had seen what she did today, you would say she’s no daughter of yours. This child is out of control she’s like an animal.” My explanation did not make matters any better between the two of us. Suddenly after leaving me a thirteen-year-old girl to cope with three children under the age of ten, her daughter’s welfare was of major importance to her. My aunt came at me shaking her fist, threatening to beat me for what I’d done to her little angel. But I’d had enough not only from her, but from the whole world. “Look, you’re not going to touch me!” I screamed. “If you do, you’re going to wind up bald-headed.” This ended any discussion of anyone beating me, but I knew at this point I had to go. But where would I run to this time?
Raising my fist to knock on Aunt Sahru’s door, I thought, Here you go again, Waris. Sheepishly, I said hello when she answered the door. Auntie Sahru was Mama’s sister. And she had five children. This
fact, I felt, did not bode well for my happiness in her household, but what choice did I have? Become a pickpocket or beg for food on the street? Without going into details about my departure from Auntie L’uul’s, I asked if I could stay with her family for a while.
“You have a friend here,” she said to my surprise. “If you want to stay with us, you can. If you want to talk about anything, I’m here.” Things were off to a better start than I’d imagined. As expected, I began helping around the house. But Auntie Sahru’s oldest daughter, Fatima, was nineteen years old. The majority of the responsibility for running the house fell to her.
My poor cousin Fatima worked like a slave. She got up early each day and went to college, then came home at twelve-thirty to cook lunch, returned to school and came back again around six in the evening to make dinner. After dinner she would clean up, then study late into the night. For some reason her mother treated her differently, demanding much more from her than she did from any of the other children. But Fatima was good to me; she treated me like a friend, and at that time in my life I certainly needed one. However, the way she was treated by her mom seemed unfair to me, so I tried to help my cousin
in the kitchen at night. I didn’t know how to cook, but I tried to learn by watching her. The first time I ever tasted pasta was when Fatima made it, and I thought I was in heaven.
My responsibilities were largely cleaning, and to this day Auntie Sahru says I’m the best cleaner she ever had. I scrubbed and polished the house, which was hard work. But I definitely preferred cleaning to babysitting, especially after my adventures of the past few months.
Like Aman, Auntie Sahru continued to worry about my mother, and the fact that Mama was left without any older girls to help her with the work. My father might help with the animals, but he wouldn’t lift a finger to help with the cooking, or clothing, or making baskets, or taking care of the children. This was woman’s work, and Mama’s problem. After all, hadn’t he done his part by bringing home another wife to help? Yes, he certainly had. But I, too, had been worried about this issue since the dark morning when I last saw my mother. Whenever I thought of her, I remembered her face in the firelight the night before I left, and how tired she’d looked. While I was running across the
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