Finding Home
Were she back in London, Natalie would never have had the guts to go through with this. Were she there — home — instead of here in Burkina Faso, the new wife of a tyrannical prince, she would not have had to.
In London, little girls left uncircumcised weren’t anathema.
‘This will only tickle,’ said the Elder woman, in a language that was more flowery than clicking and whistling.
The Elder pushed Natalie’s knees apart. She felt the cool, smooth surface of a knitting needle slide deep inside her, and cried for the child she would never know, and for home.