She saw the blade, but dared not move. That was the command! If she did, it would haunt her, her children and the generations to come. That was the cultural notion.

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Syada Chebet, only a teenager then, told herself it was indeed for the best. So if she braved the knife, that funny-looking blade, just for a second, it would be just fine.

Her future would be just fine.  It was only part of her genitalia, it should be fine, she thought.

“It will not take long, it cannot take long,” she soothed herself.  She would let the wrinkly and mean-looking old lady sucking on a tobacco pipe, cut her genitalia. After all, they said it should take a second, right? No, it did not!

The closer, the rusty blade got, the more frightened she got. So, she thought to herself: “I can run, I will run!” Sadly, before she could react, two giant men tore her thighs apart, and pressed them on each side.

“Stay down!” they commanded, all the while stepping on her thighs.

The old woman, also the village’s mutilation surgeon, had since abandoned her pipe and had now started speaking like she was possessed. With her rough fingers, the old woman latched onto Chebet’s genitalia, and pulled.