DISCLAIMER: content only for those with a lusty appetite for sex.

“What is the matter with you? We have been married for more than 3 months now and we haven’t made love. You don’t let me touch your hair or fondle your breasts. With the greatest of reluctance, you showed me your tits and that wasn’t even long enough for me to appreciate them. Why won’t you give yourself to me?”

We had barely finished dinner, when my husband decided to air out the dirty laundry. After his out burst, he stormed out of the dinning area and slammed the bedroom door behind his. What is the matter with you?The question still echoed in my mind and suddenly I didn’t feel the need to eat.

A tear escaped my eye and made it’s way to my lips. I remember that faithful day, the day I was going to be a woman. Not just any woman but a woman recognized by the community. It was early morning, the soil still cold and the branches had last night’s dew on them. My mother and I slowly made our way to the old woman of the village, it was a 200 mile walk.

“Now my dear, I want you to be brave as the village warriors.” My mother advised.

I only nodded in agreement.

At 15 years of age, whatever your mother said was law and you were not to question but obey. A leso was the only thing hiding my dignity and my bare feet made their way into the hut. Even though the hut was dark inside, one could see thanks to the cracks on the mud thatched walls. The old woman was sitting on her short stool, sharpening a small knife on a Firestone. I was directed to sit on the large banana leaf on the ground as my mother sat on the heels of her toes to support my back and head or so I thought.

When the old woman was done sharpening the knife, my mother held me down by the shoulders and the old woman’s daughter held on to my knees wide open.

“Mama! Mama! Why do you want to hurt me?”

“Stop dear, this is the only way for you to become a woman. Just close your eyes, it will be over soon.”

The old woman did not waste any minute when it was time to butcher my genital and the pain I felt was too unbearable, so I passed out. Never had I experienced such pain or the inhumane character my mother was displaying.


Am weak! Still in pain. I opened my eye lids only to find myself under the tree next to our house. It reminded me of the childhood, the games I would play with my brothers, I started crying wishing for a miracle or death whichever came first. At a distance, I saw my parents, my mother was crying and my father was shouting at her.

“Why did you have to take her to that old woman? Look she can’t stop bleeding……” before he could continue.

I stretched out my arm and called out in a low voice “Water!”  my father rushed to my aid. As I sipped the water he tried to tell me something but I was too weak to understand and so I passed out once again.

A wheelbarrow, the sound of a wheelbarrow being pushed down the dusty road is what I heard as I regained my senses. Where is my father taking me? The sun was shining bright against my face; I couldn’t see anything except hear his voice.

“Don’t worry my dear, am going to get help.”


“Are you an angel?” I asked the lady who was smartly dressed in white.

“No! Am the nurse, now go back to sleep.”

Till this day, I still think she was an angel because she took away my pain. Later that day, the chief and some Wazungu came to the hospital to ask me about what happened and talk about Female Genital Mutilation something I didn’t know of. My family disappeared without a trace, I guess they left me for dead; so the Wazungu decided to fund for my education. God bless them wherever they are.


Now my marriage is on the rocks. I couldn’t get the courage to confess my genophobia to the love of my life. The first time I noticed that my cookie isn’t normal, was in college. My roommate who was like a sister to me, showed me the difference between mine and hers. She had a perfectly structured one while mine something was definitely a miss. How could I show him this?
I went outside for some air and decided to give my psychiatrist a call.

“Hello, he is angry again, what can I do?”

“We have clearly run out of excuses. It’s time he knew the truth and please come with him as you attend tomorrow’s appointment.”

True it was time and I was running out of excuses. I was always on my periods or washing the dishes till late into the night or went to bed before he could arrive.

“Honey, wake up, I have to show you something.”

He turned to the sight of me naked. I guess he thought he was dreaming by the way he was rubbing his sleepy eyes. I sat beside him on the bed and opened my thighs. The expression on his face was confused; I guess he didn’t know whether to get a hard on or ask the several questions on his mind.
I got under the covers and started narrating my ordeal to him. He listened with all his ears, as attentive as if at a sermon and he even didn’t go to work the next day. Instead we went to the psychiatrist and slowly I gained my confidence, slowly the lady he fell madly in love with, was back.


There are so many things that make a female transition from a girl to a lady and from a lady to a woman; Female Genital Mutilation not being one of them. Let’s come together and erase the mentality that supports Female Genitals Mutilation.

Thanks for cumming!

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Changing the world one erection at a read.

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