The scene was set by a grand river, its waters flowing in a rich, reddish hue that matched the earth around it. The river’s banks were adorned with stones of various sizes. People gathered by the river’s edge, washing clothes with the rhythmic sounds of the washing machines churning away. The sun blazed brightly overhead, casting a scorching heat that illuminated every corner with its dazzling radiance. It was a sight of natural beauty.
Perched on a boulder, a young girl observed her father diligently washing clothes. Nearby, other fathers who had yet to begin washing wore distinct attire, their green cloth wraps secured with canes in hand. Rakiya, one of the women in the group, turned around and spat out a stalk she had been chewing. A woman by the riverside, likely her friend, remarked, “Farrah, why the rush? They’re all here already.” Frustrated, Farrah looked at her friend and replied, “Well, it seems like you’re taking this girl’s humiliation personally. I’m sure she’s cursing me under her breath.”
Atine shook her head and responded, “Humiliation? What’s left for me? You’ve already given her an earful. Let her inspect your bag.” Atine gently touched her mouth, glanced at the girl’s back, and continued, “Does she sleep or eat? Does she have lunch or dinner at night? All she seems to do is wash windows since morning. It’s been a whole day, and she hasn’t eaten anything. She’s just been working. They’ve been waiting for less than 30 minutes. Her father is washing a massive pile of clothes in this scorching heat.”
After a while, Rakiya’s companions joined her in the Tsundum River, splashing around joyfully. Rakiya grabbed her clothes and began to wash them. Atine berated her loudly for causing a commotion. The girl slowly opened her eyes; some parts were white, and her irises were a light brown, not black. She watched as Rakiya and her friends frolicked in the water, knowing that they would be the first to use the washing machines and receive a special reward from the owner.
She stepped out of the water, moving slowly, not exceptionally tall but not short either. They weren’t exactly skinny, nor were they overweight—just an average build. They seemed to defy easy categorization. With a chuckle, Rakiya said, “I’m just modestly built,” and then walked away with her friends, all of them giggling and pointing in her direction.
She turned away from them and headed towards their house, situated in the heart of the village—a middle-class dwelling. As she approached, the children playing outside didn’t acknowledge her. She wasn’t certain whether they were drinking from the stream or tending to the herd of sheep and cows nearby. Slowly, she navigated to the other side of the house and pushed open a door.
Inside, she found a sparsely furnished room with a thin bedsheet that seemed to designate it as her sleeping area. There was a makeshift pillow at one end of the bed. Some of her long hair fell down to her waist, and she tucked it into her hat. Stepping outside, she proceeded to hang the washed clothes on a line, pausing at various points around the house. Her gaze resembled that of a hungry soul, restless and anxious.
Afterward, she made her way to the kitchen, enclosed by walls. She walked for about two minutes before slowly crouching down, feeling as if she might collapse. She stared at the still kitchen, her hunger pangs making her feel utterly lost. She turned around, looking around the kitchen as though searching for something to satisfy her ravenous appetite. Her hunger was so intense that she seemed on the verge of starvation. Without hesitation, she reached for a pot of cooked rice, its lid falling to the ground with a clatter. She paid no heed to the steaming heat of the food as she dug in, as if she hadn’t eaten in years.
