Chapter Three: The Price of Defiance
444 Words
Ayaan’s feet pounded against the dry earth, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The village behind her was in chaos—women shouting, men running after her. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
The geed madow (dark tree) stood at the edge of the village, marking the start of the dense forest beyond. If she could reach it, she could disappear into the wilderness. But the voices behind her were getting louder.
one of the elders bellowed. Ayaan! Don’t run!
Another voice, sharp with anger, followed. “Gabadhi hagaagtay, dhaqanka kama cararto!” A good girl does not run from tradition!
Ayaan gritted her teeth, pushing her legs harder. But suddenly—a strong hand grabbed her wrist.
She screamed, twisting, kicking, but the grip tightened. She looked up into the dark, furious eyes of Cali, one of Ugas Abdi’s men.
“Waxaad ceeb usoo jiiday reerkaaga!” he spat. You have brought shame to your family!
Ayaan struggled harder. “Isii daa!” Let me go!
“Ma isii daynayo! Waa laguu baahan yahay!” I will not let you go! You are needed! he growled, dragging her back toward the village.
Tears burned in Ayaan’s eyes, but she knew crying wouldn’t save her. She thrashed, kicked, and bit down on his wrist.
he cursed, loosening his grip just enough. Ayaan yanked free and ran again, ignoring the burning in her lungs.
She could see the forest now. Just a few more steps.
Then—a loud scream.
Ayaan froze. The scream was not hers. It came from the village.
Her stomach twisted as she turned back. Through the haze of dust and confusion, she saw them—Hassan and two other men, their hands bound, kneeling in the village square. The elders stood above them, their faces grim.
Ugas Abdi raised his voice. “Ninkii gabadhaha ka caawiya inay baxsadaan, waa gacan-ku-dhiigle!” Any man who helps girls escape is a traitor!
Ayaan’s heart stopped. She knew what was coming next.
He must be punished as he deserves!
One of the men pleaded, “ Ugas, spare us! We do not want to die!
But Ugas Abdi’s face was stone. He lifted his hand, and in that moment, Ayaan knew—if she ran now, she would live. But if she stayed, she might die with them.
A Somali proverb whispered in her mind:
“Geed walba gunta waa laga jarayaa.”
(Every tree is cut from its roots.)
If she wanted to end this practice, she couldn’t just escape. She had to cut the tree from its roots.
Tears streaming down her face, Ayaan made her choice.
She turned—and ran.
- Writer
