THE CRYING BRIDE!!!

Be a Voice for Voiceless

I was in a meeting yesterday, hearing about breast ironing. It’s such scary news for many of us. My sister Leina did a great job in revealing that secret to the world. While I was sitting there, I remember one of my childhood friend and her sisters.

The family comes from Eastern Ethiopia, Hareri region. That part of Ethiopia is close to Somalia and Djibouti borders. The child marriage happens very rarely, but vaginal mutilation and circumcision of females is a traditional thing. There are different tribes in the region. Oromo, Hareri, Amhara and Somali are living there.

My playmate was from Hareri tribe. We enjoyed playing all the crazy girls games, swinging, driving cycle, planting flowers, stealing flowers from every fence when we were sent to fetch milk every evening was most enjoyable thing for us. The year I complete high school, her elder sister, who is the first born of the family got married. They are Muslims, and I’m from Christian family. In our country, the Muslims don’t eat meat in a Christian family and the Christians don’t eat meat in the Muslims house. Muslims’ call the meat in my house as “Christian’s meat” and I call the meat in my friend’s house “Muslim’s meat “. Anyone who lives in Ethiopia can see “Muslim’s Butchery” when he drives along the roads in Addis Ababa. That’s how we grew up hearing this. This might be fun for you when you read it. It’s very serious issue here. But I always eat any meat since I was young. My father and my friend’s father buy the sheep from same market. They cut the neck of the sheep in their own houses with different knives. My father said; “ In the Name of the Father, The Son and The Holy Ghost” and kill the sheep. My friend’s father said; “ Bismilahi…” and slaughter the sheep. Those words can’t make the meet of the sheep Christian’s meat or Muslim’s meat. Because I don’t see any difference, I eat any meat. Even my friends, they eat any meat wherever they go. But, other family members of mine, they don’t eat at all.

Before the wedding day, there was a big party for three days, they cook a lot of food and we eat. We’ve third playmate who is Christian. Her name is Rachel. She never eats the meat from Muslim’s house. On the wedding party, Rachel’s mother kept an eye on me. She wants to make sure if I eat a Muslim’s meat or not. The smell of the delicious meat ball and soup was tempting, the old lady was busy following me. I wanted to eat the food, but she made it very difficult for me. The cousins and nephews of my Muslim friend keep calling my name and asked me to eat with them. I said; “ I’m coming to the relatives of the bride.” I said to Rachel’s mother, “Bye I am leaving.” I did this on the same time. I left the house on the front door. The compound is big. I walked to the young boys and girls and sit behind the house to eat a minced meat cooked with spices. I was given a soda. That lady was a witch. She showed up after ten minutes at the back of the house where we sat and enjoy the meal. The youth burst in to laughter. They all knew I was hiding from that lady. I chewed and swallowed the food in my mouth and smiled at Rachel’s mother.

“You said you went home.” She said.

“Yes I did. But they invited me to eat.”I replied.

“Is the food for Christians?”

“No.”

“So, what are you doing?”

“I’m eating with them.”

“You are unholy, I’ll tell to your Mom.”

“She knows that I eat at their place always. They also eat our food.”

“If Rachel tries to follow you, I’ll poison the food and kill her. She can’t ashamed my family.”

Since then, enmity grows between Rachel’s mother and me. The first thing I reported to Mom when I got home was my hide and seek game with Rachel’s mother. My Mom laughed at our conversation. She knows all her children; they are against of all the harmful tradition. She only got shocked when she heard about Rachel’s mother poisoning the food to eliminate her child, if Rachel changes the rule of what to eat in her house.

On the eve of the wedding I went at 4:00 pm our time. I meet another girl who’s younger than us. But she pretends like our mothers. Her name was Thatu. She liked gossiping.

She came straight to me and said; “The bride is crying.”

“Why?” I asked.

“The women went with her to the room. I followed them, but they didn’t let me in. they locked the room. They spoke softly with the bride, I stood in the corridor. But I couldn’t hear what they were saying. You know, we can’t speak their tribal language.”

“Then , what happened?”

“She cried. I only hear that. The bride cried badly.”

“Why?”

“They give her a lot of advices.”

“Does that one make someone cry?”

“No. Don’t tell me that you don’t know what they were doing to her.”

“How could I know? You’re the one who’s telling she was crying either. How can I know what they did to her?”

Thatu can be five years younger than me, she started seeing me as her little friend and that annoyed me. she laughed at me and said; “They undo the stitches, that’s why she was crying.”

“What stitches?”

“Look at you!!! The stitches down there!”

“Jesus! What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know about it? Come, I’ll tell you.”

She holds my hand and walked me to the wall which divides her parent’s house and the bride’s.

“You know, in their tribe when the girl is….age old, the stitch the vagina tight with a very strong thread made of….”

“Don’t tell me this.”

“Yes, they leave very little opening only for the girl to urinate.”

“I never heard of this story before.”

“Why do they do that?”

“They don’t want their girls to go and sleep before their weddings. They did it to save their girls from early pregnancy. You know, if she becomes pregnant before her wedding, nobody will marry her forever. They keep their girls from danger. But the bride cried bitterly when they remove the stitches.”

“Who told you all these stories?”

“My mom, she’s a nurse you know that.” that day, I agreed Thatu is not only pretending matured, she really was matured.

I was sick to hear that story. The girl’s private part sealed with such a strong thread like leather. It stayed with her for more than twelve years at least, according to Thatu’s report. She has a little opening to pea. I started imagining her how she suffered when she had her periods. This is such an ugly story. One day before her wedding, many old ladies gather together and cut the stitches. Think of a bride who is older than twenty years. She removed her under wears and opened her legs so that they can remove the stitches from her private part. The blade can cut or scratch her somewhere. If it stayed in her body, it can hide in her flesh. She really cried bitterly I can feel it. I can’t afford to suffer like her. I can’t stand it. This is such a humiliating thing to a woman.

In the name of culture, tradition, security, protection…etc. Women and girls are suffering a lot in their own homeland and family.

Thatu encouraged me to ask my friend and to find out the story was true. I’d no courage to ask her. I was ashamed to hear it from her, let alone to ask my friend and embarrass her.

I don’t know what’s going on with that tribe’s people these days. But few years back, they had been doing this.

How sad!

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