Chapter 8 : Girls for cows
913 Words
The village air was thick with dust, the scent of animals and sweat hanging heavy in the air. The elders had gathered in the large open hut at the heart of the village—the place where decisions were made, where lives were traded like cattle.
On the ground, before them, sat Safiyo—her wrists bound, her face pale, her body trembling from the pain of the brutal circumcision.
The clan leader, Oday Warsame, stroked his long white beard, his eyes cold and calculating. He turned to the groom’s family, a group of men sitting on woven mats, discussing the bride price in low voices.
“Sidaad ogtihiin, gabadhani waa xalaal. Waa la nadiifiyay.”
(As you know, this girl is pure now. She has been cleansed.)
The groom’s father, a man with a scarred face and a gold ring on his finger, nodded approvingly. “Waa muhiim in gabadh la nadiifiyo ka hor guurka. Laakiin maxaan bixinaa?”
(It is important for a girl to be purified before marriage. But what is the price?)
An elder cleared his throat and spoke with authority.
“Lix geel ah iyo laba dibi. Waa in ay qoysku aqbalaan.”
(Six camels and two bulls. The family must accept.)
Murmurs of agreement rose around the hut.
Safiyo’s stomach churned. She was being sold like an animal.
She clenched her fists. Six camels. Two bulls. That was all her life was worth.
A Somali proverb rang in her head:
“Naag la qabo waa geel la rarto.”
(A married woman is like a camel taken away—she has no say in where she goes.)
Tears burned in her eyes. This was the fate of girls in the village.
Boys were sent to Mogadishu, Garissa, Nairobi—to school, to madrasa, to become men of power.
But girls? Girls were given to old men in exchange for livestock.
She thought of Ayaan.
Had she truly escaped? Had she found a different life?
Before she could think further, Warsame’s voice cut through the room.
“Heshiiskaa la galay. Aroosku wuxuu dhici doonaa saddex beri kadib.”
(The agreement is sealed. The wedding will take place in three days.)
Safiyo’s body turned cold.
She had three days left.
Three days before she lost herself forever.
Back in Nairobi – Ayaan’s Rage
Ayaan slammed the phone down, her chest rising and falling wildly.
Her hands trembled as she looked at Misky, who was sitting across from her, waiting.
“Waxay rabaan in ay Safiyo ku iibsadaan lix geel iyo laba dibi.”
(They want to trade Safiyo for six camels and two bulls.)
Misky’s face darkened, her hands curling into fists.
“Subxaanallah.” She shook her head. “Gabdhaha la dila, la ciqaabo, la xiro. Wiilasha la geeyo madrasa iyo dugsi sare. Waa cadaalad-darro.”
(Girls are beaten, punished, locked away. Boys are sent to madrasa and high school. It’s injustice.)
Ayaan’s throat tightened.
“Safiyo ma noqon doonto mid ka mid ah gabdhahaas. Waa inaan badbaadinaa.”
(Safiyo will not be one of those girls. We must save her.)
Misky nodded firmly. “Waan la joognaa. Laakiin waa in aan si taxadar leh u dhaqaaqnaa.”
(We are with you. But we must act carefully.)
Planning the Rescue
That night, Ayaan, Misky, and Kaltuma sat around a dimly lit table, studying a hand-drawn map of the village.
“Waxaa la sheegtay in arooska uu dhici doono saddex beri kadib.” Ayaan pointed at the center of the village.
(The wedding is in three days.)
Misky rubbed her chin. “Qorshahooda waa maxay? Halkee lagu hayaa Safiyo?”
(What is their plan? Where is Safiyo being kept?)
Ayaan’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Guriga gabdhaha la sugo ka hor arooska. Hooyada odayga ayaa waardiye ka ah.”
(The house where brides are kept before marriage. The clan elder’s wife is guarding her.)
Kaltuma, who had saved Ayaan once before, leaned forward. “Sidee loo soo saari karaa?”
(How can she be taken out?)
Ayaan hesitated.
“Safiyo ma socon karto fogaantaas. Way dhaawacan tahay.”
(Safiyo cannot walk that far. She is injured.)
Misky exhaled sharply.
“Waxaa loo baahan yahay gaari. Qof gudaha ka shaqeeya inuu naga caawiyo.”
(We need a vehicle. Someone from inside to help us.)
Silence fell.
Then, Kaltuma spoke carefully.
“Waxaa jira nin deggan Mandera. Wuxuu caawiyaa gabdhaha baxsada. Waa in aan la xiriiro.”
(There is a man in Mandera. He helps runaway girls. We must contact him.)
Ayaan’s heart pounded.
This was real. They were going back.
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A Blood Price
Meanwhile, back in the village, the groom’s family had one final request.
The groom’s father stood and looked at Oday Warsame.
“Haddii gabadhan la baxsato, waa in la dilo qofka ka danbeeya.”
(If this girl escapes, the one responsible must be killed.)
Warsame nodded. “Sida caadada ah, waa in la bixiyaa dhiig.”
(As per our tradition, blood must be paid.)
Safiyo shuddered.
If she ran, someone would die in her place.
The last person who had helped a girl escape had been stoned to death.
Her heart sank.
Even if Ayaan came for her… would it be worth it?
Would she trade her freedom for someone else’s life?
Tears rolled down her face as she whispered to herself:
“Xorriyadda qiimaheedu waa dhiig.”
(Freedom comes at the price of blood.)
She just didn’t know whose blood it would be.
- Writer
