SAVE THE GIRL CHILD

I got my first 'period' when I was in class eight, at 'Nyamachaki Primary School'. There I was battling to stay awake as the teacher desperately hammered mathematical formulas in our heads when suddenly, lightning struck my lower stomach. Since I have always had a sensitive stomach, I knew that I needed to rush to the toilet accompanied by one exercise book to serve as tissue paper for I was going to diarrhea a river. But there was a problem, my math teacher considered rushing to the toilet as a waste of time.

To ease the tension, I decided to daydream. Daydreaming in class was my escape from those demonic mathematical formulas that I had to cram and use in the exams, deep down in my heart I was resigned to the fact that Maths was not made for me and neither was I interested in it.

And so I took to daydreaming. In my head, my mind traveled to D.E.B Primary School, the home of my class 6 -8 the love of my life. I cannot recall his name but he was tall and fine and he had long legs and he was always number one in all sports competitions and he was tall and fine and he always bought me biscuits on our way home and he promised to write me letters when he went to form one.

He had a good smile and he always did my math homework and we always walked to church together and he always took me to the posho mill where he would caress my long hair and I would always draw maps and he would buy me sweets and carry my school bag. He was the first man to point out that I had no breasts and it made me feel ashamed but he said that all big girls were supposed to have them and because I wanted to be a big girl, I walked with my chest out pretending to have them...

It was My teacher's slap that brought me back to her hell, she wanted me to solve some mathematical dilemma which of course I had no idea about. Her slap traveled down to my stomach and struck something, something cold and painful and scary. Was I peeing on myself? Was it diarrhea? would I stink? The bell saved me.

I covered my behind with my school pullover and rushed to the toilet. First wipe, red. Second wipe, red. Third Wipe, still red. I was on my way to death's place. I peeped at my heart-shaped panty, it was red in the middle. I vomited, rained diarrhea, and bleed, in quick succession. My blue dress had a beautiful red patch at the back, I was doomed.

I locked myself in the toilet for hours, crying, expecting to bleed out. My blossoming hips had warned me that red was coming, but not this fast, not without warning, not while I was in school where all the cute boys were, with no sanitary pad to tap my 'shame'. I can't remember her name but she came and found me trying to clean my dress with spit, and without uttering a word she understood me. A minute later, she was back with a can of water, a worn-out sponge, and cotton wool. She helped me clean my dress and taught me how to roll cotton wool with tissue.

But I had to be careful, If I walked too fast or if I parted my legs, the wool would fall off. I walked back to class, careful not to dislodge my 'safety belt'. It was a terrible day with the other suspicious girls hurdling in groups to question why my uniform appeared wet and why I was sitting on my pullover. They tried getting me to stand up but I could not move.

In the evening, I was the last to leave the school compound, by then, the red patch had decorated my uniform once again, I was weak, my stomach hurt, and I could not feel my knees. I got home to find my D.E.B prince charming waiting for me, for no reason, I hated him on that day. I hated him more when he grabbed and yanked away the pullover from my waist exposing my shame. I cried bitterly as I ran to the house.

Hours later, all clean and tucked in bed, mama taught me how to roll cotton wool with tissue, I was to change after every hour to avoid 'accidents'. I cried for hours later that night after our house help told me that this bleeding meant I was now a big girl and big girls got pregnant and pregnant girls didn't finish school and they ended up staying at home with shaggy hair and no nice clothes and I did not want that, at all.