Elayah

Author E-Mail: Nimue1967@Yahoo.co.nz

Story Text:

Elayah [Fiction][Female Circumcision][Minor]

Baba collected me from school that day. That wasn’t uncommon. Often Mummy would already have imbibed too much alcohol by the time my lessons were finished. Then Baba came; and if not, my au pair or someone from the staff would be sent over to fetch me. That particular day, Baba drove us to the airport instead of home.

A few pieces of luggage came out of the boot of the car. ‘Are we going on holiday, Baba?’ I asked him, quite excited by the prospect. ‘Is Mummy coming too?’ ‘No, my precious, I have some business to attend to and I’m taking you with me. Mummy is staying home this time. It will be just you and me and we’ll bring someone back too, Zuleika.

I asked all kind of questions then, as a child will, but my father remained very vague. He bought me my tea at a cafeteria and a few trinkets from one of the tax-free shops. Those items were my only personal belongings. It was dark before we boarded our plane and I must have fallen asleep shortly after. It was to be a long flight.

I woke when the little shutters were opened again and revealed a beautiful sunrise above the clouds. After breakfast had been served and been cleared away again, the plane started his descend. Peering from the window, I discovered a miniature world of sand, dusty roads and a maze of white, low buildings.

I grew up in a sheltered but multicultural social niche and had been taken on holidays in Europe and the Caribbean, but this was different. There was a hubbub of veiled women and white clad men, with the same dark skin as my father and speaking the guttural language he sometimes spoke that I wasn’t privy to.

Even though it was only early morning, the heat was suffocating and the sun burned on my scalp. Our bags were piled in an old vehicle. It turned out to be a taxi, which took us on a drive through narrow streets filled with strange smells and sights. The radio played unfamiliar, plaintive songs and effectively prevented me from asking any more questions.

Although I could read well and write too, I couldn’t make anything out before we halted at the building were we would stay for almost three weeks. There was a single intelligible sign that read ‘Hotel Aden’. It was the only thing in western writing to be found in that place. I will never forget the name, even if can’t remember my own.

At the reception, my Baba made the necessary arrangements and at first I followed him to his suite. When I accompanied my parents on one of their frequent holidays and business trips, I always stayed in another room with my au pair. So I wasn’t too surprised when one of the hotel staff came to collect me.

The woman took me to another, far more rundown wing of the hotel. Whereas my father’s surroundings were of a standard, international quality, my quarters were sparsely furnished with little more than a crude wooden table in one room and bed coverings on the floor in the next. judging by the tiles and taps, the final room was a bathroom.

If the walls and ceilings hadn’t been whitewashed, the place would not only have appeared gloomy, but downright sinister. There was no balcony and the windows were long and barred with intricate wrought iron work. They were positioned high up, so that during my stay there, I couldn’t look outside once.

I assumed they must have made a mistake, but the woman who had accompanied me there, couldn’t or wouldn’t understand my protestations. She left and locked me in for what would turn out to be an eternity. I remained on my own, without food or water, for what must have been the better part of the day.

I called out, thumped the heavy door, but no one came or heard. My toys distracted me for a while before I finally cried myself to sleep. Anxious and lonely I woke up again near dusk. Just as I was in the back to use the bathroom, I heard the door open and close again. Relieved, I ran to the front room, hoping to find my Baba there.

My jaw dropped in disappointment, as it was only an old woman. I pressed her with questions after an initial moment of shyness, but she paid them no heed. judging by her tone, she asked me a few things too. As we spoke different languages, we made no sense to each other whatsoever.

Sighing, she fingered the dark blonde strands of my long hair and made sounds that seemed to express admiration. I noticed then that her hands were heavily tattooed. Apart from her face, it was the only part I would ever see of her. The rest of her was covered by an all over garment of a dark brown hue.

Briskly, she directed me back towards the bathroom. By running the taps, she made her purpose clear. Glad to be no longer alone and used to being bathed, I made no objections. Yet it was all so different, with runny soap, which reminded me of mud and a genuine sea sponge. My hair was oiled and put into two very tight braids.

‘Elayah,’ she pointed at me and slapping her own flat chest, ‘Umaah.’ So she had known my name and now I knew hers too. My school uniform stayed discarded in the bathroom as she took me through to the front room again. With some universal gestures, I indicated my hunger and thirst, but Umaah shook her head vehemently.

Umaah dressed me in a wide, long sleeved dress and a strangely crotchless pair of trousers. The red ensemble was comfortable but soon I found it too hot for me in this climate. From another bag she had brought, she produced a kohl stick, with which she painted my eyes. My mother never let me play with her make up, so I really enjoyed that.

She named every thing she picked up, but I didn’t pay much attention. Next, she reddened my lips with a bitter tasting balm. My two braids were tucked in a tight and elaborate headdress. I became even hotter and wanted to take it of again, but Umaah flicked my hands away. She distracted me by shoving me in front of a mirror.

I didn’t recognize myself and I doubt my own mother would have. As I stood there admiring myself, Umaah bound colourful leather straps around my wrists and ankles. Finally she placed a crude and heavy necklace over my head and onto my shoulders. Then she directed me towards the table in the centre of the room.

I let her help me to sit up on it, but when she motioned for me to lie down, I wasn’t sure anymore. Umaah pulled me into vertical position by the necklace, which threatened to choke me. This wasn’t fun any more and I whined in protest. The heaviest, leather covered central piece of the necklace was then thrust into my mouth.

Suddenly very fearful, I froze as I struggled to control my breathing. This allowed Umaah to strap my neck to the tabletop with a loose leather strip through two of the numerous slits in its surface. Having trapped me this way, she could methodically bind my limbs one by one to leave me motionless.

Even though I had no idea were this was leading, I was afraid and my heart pounded in my chest. Umaah took her time putting all the restraints in place. One went over the headdress and forced me to either close my eyes or stare into a single fierce light bulb. It was pitch dark outside now but the heat hadn’t subsided.

One by one, my arms were spread out, the elbows strapped down at the height of my shoulders. My lower arms were bent upwards and pinned down by the wrists alongside my head. A broad band went over my chest and another one over my hips. She pulled them so tight; I felt I had to breath by pumping up my belly.

I fought her when she bent my left leg up to strap the hollow of my knee to the table beside my torso. My ankle ended up in a loop between my face and hand. The mere strain made me tremble in discomfort. I managed to land her a kick in the belly before she had my right leg secured in the same way. She wasn’t fazed in the least.

Trussed up like this, I couldn’t help noticing that my sex was conveniently exposed; I couldn’t fathom why she would want it so. I also started to transpire profusely. Drops of sweat stung my eyes and made the kohl runny, which stung even more. The kohl’s greasy component blurred my vision and I couldn’t see what Umaah was up to.

I heard her rummage about in her bags and the clink of metal, as if she were retrieving cutlery. Approaching the table, Umaah started a low, hypnotic chant that she would keep up throughout the work she was about to perform. Never before had I been so frightened and with such good cause.

It can’t have been unexpected, yet still it startled me when she first touched my sex. She ran her fingers through the recently washed folds, probing and appraising. Umaah pinched four retractors onto my outer labia that bit viciously into my flesh. Only then did I realize how useful the heavy necklace was as a gag. All my protestations were muffled.

With an edgeless device, Umaah picked at my hood. She repeatedly scraped my clitoris with it, causing me to wince in pain. On occasion, stroking the little kernel had soothed me to sleep and dream pleasantly. It had never occurred to me that anybody else would know of its sheltered existence.

Umaah managed to get a good hold with a small but heavy-handled clamp on my hood. She let the grip rest on my belly so that the cruel little clamp pulled my hood up and away from my clitoris. It hurt and made me sob but still she prodded to sever the adhesions around my clitoris.

The realization struck me she wanted to rob me of it, though why or how Umaah would do that was beyond me. I tried and fought my bonds to no avail. Umaah slapped my buttocks to quieten me. I closed my eyes in despair and felt her wipe me with a rough cloth. I was already bleeding profusely.

The cold hands of a pair of pincers were placed around my clitoris. It sent a chill down my spine. In a vain attempt to change her mind, I tried to wriggle away from the menacing tool. It earned me a smarting slap across the face. Tears ran down the side of my cheeks and my strained muscles burned like cords in my painfully stretched limbs.

I resigned myself to the unavoidable but nothing could have prepared me for what came next. The pincers bit down slowly and determinedly, crushing the tissue and veins just beneath my clitoris. In spite of the gag, I screamed with my mouth wide open until I had no wind left in me. Convulsions ragged my tortured body.

Wheezing and hoarse, I felt Umaah staunching the copious bleeding by applying cold ointment and then pressure with both hands. I thought my pubic bone would crush under her weight. Now that she had robbed me irretrievably of my little bud, I expected her to release me so that I could run to my Baba and bury myself in his consoling arms.

Again, she made a close inspection of my now pruned sex. Hiccupping arduously, I had no choice but to await her next move. Umaah took one of my little lips between her thumb and index finger. Pulling it this way and that, she made it clear to me what else she had in mind. By making all kinds of imploring sounds I tried to dissuade her.

Paying me no attention whatsoever, she pulled one of the condemned flaps distressingly taut. With what must have been a very sharp knife she simply slit off the part she considered redundant. The pain seemed to take a moment to set in. When it did, it pulsed excruciatingly. Then she still had to do the other one.

Once more, I was bleeding considerably. Moaning miserably I watched Umaah uncap a plastic bottle. She steadily poured the icy contents over my swollen sex. It stung my fresh wounds horrendously and I howled and writhed in as far as my bonds let me. It lasted forever before the last burning drops fell from the nozzle.

The flow of the blood had stopped too and I lay there panting, near to exhaustion. Umaah looked me over once more and seemed content with her achievement. She undid the straps that held me one by one. It was agonizing to lower my legs again; not only due to the hurt between them, the muscles were very stiff and sore.

In my sweat soaked clothes Umaah carried me to the other room. She knew I wasn’t capable to stand let alone walk. She put me down on the mattress and bound my hands once more, to an iron ring embedded in the wall behind me. My feet fared a similar fate and were fastened to rings in the floor on each side of the mattress.

In an instant, Umaah was gone. She pulled my heavy clothes in place, flicked off the light switch and closed the door behind her. I lay there in the dark, hurting all over and with a throbbing pain between my legs. Hot and in shock, I vaguely registered a party going on in another part of the hotel. Singing and dancing. Why didn’t my Baba come for me?

I woke early, shivering and drenched in cold sweat. My throat was scorched from crying and thirst. In spite off that, I needed to pee. My sex felt swollen and still hurt badly. When the sun was up, the door opened. It was Umaah, with a tray. My mind didn’t know whether to panic or to feel some kind of relief. I just started crying then.

Umaah chattered away about I don’t know what, as if she was simply my chambermaid or something. I didn’t put me at ease one bit. I held my breath as she lifted my dress to have a look at my intimate wounds. I had never been shy or ashamed but I hated it now. Once more she loosened my bonds and helped me up.

I swayed on my feet. No wonder, I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything, suffered from shock and had lost quite a bit of blood too. It took a tremendous effort to hobble to the bathroom. Umaah sat me down on a bench and I kept watching her tattooed hands, in case they would suddenly hold a knife or a bottle of stinging liquid.

She took off my sticky garments and washed me down. Simply sitting upright was uncomfortable and sapped what little strength I had left. I was to press a towel to my crotch so that no soapy water would trickle down there. With the running water, the pressure in my bladder became unbearable.

I shrieked when my urine ran along my wounds, but I had no longer control over it. Mortified and inflamed I wailed in self-pity. Umaah insisted on rinsing my sex, even though I tried keeping my thighs close together. To distract me, she started prattling again. It worked, as I distinctly heard her say ‘Baba’ several times.

‘Please, please, let my Baba come,’ I begged of her, clutching her arms. Fresh tears brimmed in my eyes. Umaah shrugged and babbled on. She dried me, oiled my braids again and put me into a fresh pair of garments; green but otherwise identical to the ones I had worn before. I cried with fatigue and frustration.

Umaah lowered me on the bed again and gave me some water. I drank eagerly, until I remembered what it was like having to pee. She also fed me a few spoons of sweetened semolina, which I didn’t like at all. I whimpered as she bound my hands and feet again but I was too weak to put up a real struggle.

Kohl and rouge was reapplied to my face as I already started sweating again. I didn’t understand about wearing such suffocating clothes. Umaah busied herself with tidying up the mess from the day before. After cleaning she left with a bundle presumably to be washed. My school uniform, the red, sullied garments and lots of bloodied rags.

Hours and days passed in pain, loneliness and monotony. Nothing happened apart from Umaah’s visits, no one came. When she was around, she freed my bonds, encouraging me to play with my toys. But I was listless and overnight they had strangely lost all appeal to me. I had changed.

Umaah came four times between dawn and dusk. Each time before releasing me, she saw to my wounds. She dabbed them with an antiseptic, which made me cry out and pull away as long as the cuts were raw. Even worse was the gauze. I had no idea why she did that, other than to remind me of my loss.

With a pair of tweezers she would soak a small piece of sterile gauze in alcohol. Deftly, Umaah then rolled the gauze into a tiny ball. Still holding the ball with the tweezers, she would squeeze the little sphere into the empty but swollen space under my hood. The alcohol and the manoeuvring sent bolts of agony through my body.

Other than that, there was only the washing, the changing of garments and the horrible diet of either sweet semolina or semolina soaked in broth accompanied by unfamiliar vegetables. I did start to pick up the meaning of some words, though. My life was limited and droning and so was its vocabulary. And a child learns fast.

I kept asking for my Baba of course. What Umaah told me, made no sense to me. She kept mentioning a Zuleika, a name I heard my father say too. Around the tenth day or so, my hair was washed instead of oiled and somewhat restored to its former beauty. It was made clear to me I was to expect a visitor: Zuleika.

I was full of expectation to meet her, wondering if she would speak my language and whether she would be able to answer my innumerable questions. Tea and delicious looking pastries were brought in beforehand but I wasn’t allowed to touch any previous to my guest’s arrival. It was maddening after my meagre diet.

Finally she came. I saw a pretty girl twice my age make her entrance in local dress. To my own surprise, I didn’t rush over but was rather shy. She spoke to me in my own language, although heavily accented and with limited vocabulary. What she said, though, didn’t make sense at all.

Not only my body but my whole life was being thrown for a loop.

‘Hello my beautiful Elayah! So glad we finally meet! I was sorry to hear you couldn’t come to my betrothal to your Baba but it was a unique occasion to have you circumcised, little sister. Soon we all fly home and become the best of friends. You will be my guest of honour at my wedding to your Baba! I just can’t wait,’ Zuleika sighed full of longing.

I was bombarded with more information than I could cope with. And I could think of only one thing to say. ‘But Baba already has a Mummy…’ My mother. ‘your Baba wants sons, Elayah! And I have been chosen, I am so happy! It is perfectly proper, you know,’ she said before biting into a pastry glazed with sugar.

I didn’t understand; I just couldn’t grasp it. I never touched the pastries; I think I would have choked on them. My father didn’t want my Mummy anymore and he didn’t want me either, he wanted boys. And he went to a party while he let Umaah cut me. And he never even came to see me. He sent Zuleika, his wife to be, instead.

I cried again, but silently this time, no sobs, and no tears. So this nameless horror I had been subjected to what was called circumcision. ‘Why!?’ I choked, ‘`Why did Umaah cut me so?’ ‘It is better. It is clean. It pleases the husband. It is our way,’ Zuleika shrugged her shoulders. ‘You lucky girl. Umaah is good. Your Baba chose her carefully.’

Umaah left us, fetching a fresh pot of tea. ‘If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,’ Zuleika proposed in conspiratory tones. She pulled up her garment and pulled her trousers down. I was horrified by the suggestion of exposing myself to her but I very much wanted to have a look at her. To see, maybe what had been done to me.

Her sex was hairless, obviously it had been depilated. Her private parts were dark and rosy, in some contrast to her milky mocha skin. I saw no trace of a clitoris and the big lips didn’t quite meet, had they been cut too? There were no scars, except for two recently healed ones where the little lips must have been. So it must have been different for her.

The trousers went up and the dress down. ‘Now you,’ Zuleika ordered. I had rather not but saw no way out of it. Reluctantly, I raised only my garment as I still wore crotchless trousers. ‘Ooh, you are prettily done, Elayah!’ Zuleika exclaimed; she even reached out and touched me. I jerked back at her touch.

I was quite confident I had looked just fine before. To my regret, I hadn’t before had a proper look with a little hand mirror. I didn’t care to see my maimed sex now. Fascinated, she pulled me closer again. ‘Perfect, she left you with the proper little rim. And such a candy pink colour too! Your future husband will be charmed’, she assured me.

Boys were hateful creatures. My school was girls only. I had never even considered a fairy tale prince. I had simply adored my Baba. A husband of my own bemused me. Umaah came back in with more tea and some fruits. I nibbled on some grapes as Umaah and Zuleika had some exchange in their guttural tones that was beyond my basic knowledge.

‘Elayah, I have a present for you,’ Zuleika announced solemnly. ‘I wore them myself, they are a family heirloom. I won’t need them until I have a daughter of my own.’ From her bag, she produced an intricately inlaid wooden box. Lifting the lid, she exposed nine tiny simple golden earrings ensconced in a bed of green velvet.

My mother had never let my ears be pierced, I wasn’t sure she would let me now and I sure wasn’t looking forward to any more pain. So I must have looked a little doubtful to say the least. ‘Don’t be afraid, Elayah. There is still time to heal. I will hold you myself, little sister. Be brave and your honour will be safe,’ Zuleika encouraged me.

I cowered from the mere thought of pain, I had no courage left in that area, and so I crept back a bit. Umaah, seeing that I wasn’t going to cooperate, grabbed my legs. Zuleika followed her cue and came to sit behind me, pinning my arms to my upper body. She rocked me soothingly and I relaxed for a moment.

What happened next, made no sense to me at first. Umaah pried my legs apart and Zuleika swung hers over mine, sticking her feet in the hollows of my knees. This kept my legs well apart. Umaah went to disinfect the earrings. She brought the gagging necklace too. ‘Elayah won’t need that, will she?’ Zuleika cooed in my ear.

‘No, no, no…’ I pleaded between my first sobs. At that point I still didn’t know what exactly was going to be done to me, but I was sure it would hurt. Umaah bent the first ring open, revealing a sharp point that had to be fitted in the juxtaposed opening. The fear nearly choked me and I felt utterly betrayed by my false friend Zuleika.

Umaah pulled the ridges that remained of my little lips together. The flesh, although healed, was still very tender. With finger’s breadth, she measured out where the first ring had to go in. I finally caught on. Contorting my body wildly, I screamed. Zuleika scolded me and stuffed her sleeve between my bared teeth to stifle my cries.

Her experience served Umaah well. She bore her index finger in my anus and made to dig her nail in the sensitive skin inside. I kept still immediately and whimpered in defeat. In seconds, the first ring bore through my flesh twice. I couldn’t help convulsing with the harrowing onslaught.

The first ring was clasped shut and the next picked up. Each one seemed not only to hurt more than the previous one, they also stung terribly. That must be because they had been dipped in alcohol. I ranted and wailed as my tormented tissue swelled and inflamed again. Once more I was swimming in pain.

With all the rings in place, my inner sanctum was in effect sealed off from any unwelcome or precocious prying. Zuleika held me a while longer as Umaah dabbed my thirty six little wounds with cotton soaked in alcohol. I gagged on the smell and threw up the few grapes I had eaten just before. Zuleika lovingly wiped my mouth.