Chapter Four : Blood on the sand
539 Words
The desert air was heavy with silence—the kind of silence that comes before a storm.
Ayaan hid behind a cluster of dry acacia trees, her breath ragged, her hands shaking. The village square was just ahead, lit by the dull glow of torches. Three men knelt in the center, their hands tied behind their backs. Hassan was among them.
Ugas Abdi stood tall, his dark robe billowing slightly in the wind. His voice rang out, cold and final.
“Ninkii gabadhaha ku caawiya inay baxsadaan, waa gacan-ku-dhiigle!”
(Any man who helps girls escape is a traitor!)
Ayaan felt her stomach twist. This was because of her. Hassan had risked everything to whisper those words: Run, Ayaan. Run now.
Now, he was paying the price.
An old woman in the crowd muttered, shaking her head. “Geed walba gunta waa laga jarayaa.”
(Every tree is cut from its roots.)
Ayaan’s heart pounded. They were cutting down anyone who dared defy them.
She glanced to the side and saw Safiyo, crouched in the shadows. Their eyes met, and Ayaan knew—Safiyo was thinking the same thing. This had to stop.
But how? They were just girls.
A chilling voice cut through the nigh
Carry out the sentence.
Ayaan’s breath hitched. The men pleaded.
Ugas, spare us! We do not want to die!
But mercy was not a language spoken in this village.
Ayaan clenched her fists. Her mother’s words echoed in her head, spoken long ago
The one who stays silent in the face of injustice is no different from the one who commits it.
She couldn’t stay silent.
But before she could move, a sickening sound tore through the air. A sharp gasp escaped her lips.
Hassan’s body slumped forward.
The world spun.
Ayaan bit down on her hand to keep from screaming. Tears streamed down her face. The ground beneath her felt like it was crumbling, like the weight of what had just happened was pressing her into the earth.
Safiyo grabbed her wrist, eyes wide with horror. “Waa in aan baxnaa.”
(We have to leave.)
But Ayaan’s body refused to move. She stared at the lifeless body of the man who had believed in her dreams. The man who had told her she was meant for more.
More.
That word rang in her skull like a war drum.
She wiped her tears, something inside her hardening like the dry Somali earth.
She would not let Hassan’s death be for nothing. She would not let the blood of the innocent stain this village forever.
A Somali proverb surfaced in her mind, strong and sharp like a blade:
“Haddii aad aragto xumaan oo aad aamusto, adiguna waad la xumaatay.”
(If you see evil and stay silent, then you are part of the evil.)
Ayaan turned to Safiyo, her voice steady for the first time that nigh
We are not running anymore.
Safiyo frowned. “Maxaad ula jeeddaa?”
(What do you mean?)
Ayaan exhaled, her fear melting away.
“Dib ayaan u soo laabaneynaa.”
(We are coming back.)
This village had stolen the futures of too many girls.
One day, she would return—and she would set them free.
- Writer
