It looked like a simple butcher knife, but I was told it was over a hundred years old. It was a treasure for the entire Nesu village. To me, it was a sacrificial tool.

How was I supposed to go through the ordeal of being cut, happily? This restless question lingered in my mind. No one saw it the way I did.

Mama was so excited that at last her third daughter would be recognized by the entire village as a real woman ready to meet a man and get married.

"Lulu, I am so proud of you. You will be seen as a full grown woman before sunset tomorrow. Your father and I have—"

I interrupted her, "But mama, I am only 18. Do I have to be cut to become a woman? Its barbaric!"

"Shhh, never talk that way! You are not merely being cut but its your circumcision day. Every girl in the village looks forward to her own time. Even I did once."

"Can't I be drugged or something? I hear this is a painful ceremony."

"Why do you talk like an outcast? You are too grown to be scared of such a minor thing as the circumcision knife."

I wept the whole day, while everyone else was happy for me. Why was I different? My sisters, cousins and friends couldn't understand why I felt so badly about it all. They went on excitedly relating their own experiences to me one after the other. Still, it didn't make me feel any better.

My eldest sister Isoken said that the ceremony would permit me the freedom of being seen at any time in the company of Omo, who I was betrothed to. Omo was most understanding with my situation, but concluded by saying it was the custom in Nesu from time immemorial and no one could stop it now. Of course, just like any other man in the village, he wanted a socially acceptable woman for a wife.

Maybe I should've just run away, but I stayed back and prayed to the gods who they say designed the custom in the first place, the gods I never knew, the gods who never spoke to me.

The rest of that day went fast as I sadly imagined what the next day held for me. I felt like a thief that was to be hanged at the break of day.

Mama brought a special cloth for me, to be worn for the ceremony.. She said it was expensive and that I would be the envy of my mates the next day. Two goats were slaughtered behind the house in preparation, while children from houses around came to offer their domestic help.

Through hot tears, I peeped out of my room window. Two women passed by, chatting away happily. Large aluminium basins rested on their heads, each supported by a wound piece of cloth. I looked past them at my one time saviour. There it stood, a tree once rich with green leaves. Now, all that was left of it was a large stump. This time last year, I had used its poisonous leaves to hurt myself. I would much rather have been dead than forced into something like what I now faced again. So while the preparation went on in the front yard of our compound, I was at the back yard plucking up courage to end my miserable life. I chewed some of the leaves and after some moments, passed out. Unfortunately, someone discovered me and raised an alarm early enough. I woke up at the village health centre. The ceremony had been cancelled and the tree cut down by papa.

Mama just kept crying and asking why I ate ojii leaves. "Why did you do such a thing, Lulu? You could have killed yourself."

No answer. I was silent for the next three days that followed. After all, what was the point talking to anyone, even Omo, about what they wouldn't want to understand? As far as I was concerned, they should have let me die and be spared the future pain.

How long did I think I could continue to escape 'becoming a woman'? The clock chimed for 11 pm. I tried to relax and sleep, but dark thoughts played around in my mind.

The ceremony finally came to pass the following day, with loads of compensations afterwards and over a thousand congratulations. I got gifts of new wrappers from the village women, beautiful locally made jewellery came from Omo and my older sisters, while I lay in intense pain.

My meals were specially made for more than a week after the ceremony. At last it was all over with some relief. I could finally concentrate on more important things in my life, or so I thought.

Two days after the ceremony, I pulled out an old box that contained my manual typewriter from under the wooden bed in my room. I had always wanted to be a writer and perhaps own a magazine of my own someday, like those usually brought to the village by the 'pale skins', as Europeans and Americans were called by the people of my village.

With the aid of my little education, I had written some articles in the past. Mama would always discourage me, saying I was wasting my time busying myself with typing while my peers were either learning worthy handiworks for later trade or spending more time socializing with potential suitors.

"Mama, you know I already have a suitor in Omo. You and papa betrothed me to him since I was a little girl."

"But you hardly spend time with him. He was here yesterday and you chased him off saying you needed to concentrate. I tell you, the way you are going, he may end up approaching another girl in this village!"

I let her babble on about it. I had always been focused and knew what I wanted out of life from the time I was through with elementary school. Omo knew I was strong-willed and so he let me be about whatever I wanted. I didn't think being weak with me was an admirable character on his part but I liked him for it, for the fact that he respected my desires.

The next visit by the pale skins came soon and I didn't hesitate to approach Mr. Timothy, their leader, on how to go about realizing a writing career. He was surprisingly very helpful. He explained patiently that I could start by having my own write-ups published in other magazines, local and foreign, until I gained enough exposure to go solo. He also went ahead to give me some of his own write-ups which he felt would be useful to me. Our meeting was impressive, I was sure he would be willing to help me get published whenever I was ready.

What could I do to show I was grateful? We were always taught to be silent before the pale skins and kind of timid. So I thanked him quietly and went away.

Back home, I returned to my typing, with occasional interruptions by mama whenever she needed domestic help of any kind. Within me, I was excited, but who could I share my joy with? They just wouldn't understand again because we all had different values. I was happy for the hope given me by my new secret friend, Mr. Timothy. Secret friend, because it was considered wrong in the village to keep any type of friendships with the pale skins.

I continued my typing. Days turned into months and then a year. Oftentimes, I would type into the night when everyone was asleep. Sometimes papa would awaken and put a stop to my work, saying it was a loathsome disturbance to his peaceful sleep. As long as I wasn't restricted, I used every opportunity to get something down in writing. I loved what I was up to, second to nothing, but papa and mama were not happy with my apparent absorption in something of no value to them.

"How long do you intend keeping this up?" they would often ask. "As long as I am alive, Papa, I intend using it to make a living later on in life."

"That is not the place for a woman of your age," my mother, who was the more domineering of them, would put in. "Sooner or later you will have to consider more important things, like your marriage to Omo."

It seemed to me as if that was all that mattered to them about my life. Getting married, making some babies and raising them, like most girls in the village did. I liked the idea of getting married and making babies but that was not my life's ultimate desire. I knew I could never be satisfied with just that, knowing I would never be anything more than just a man's property.

There were subsequent rounds of typing throughout the day and into the night with very little food during the day. Sometimes I would even forget to have a meal, till mama discovered my food had been untouched and came to me angrily. She would threaten to sell off the typewriter if I didn't give up my madness.

One day while I was typing, I passed out and was rushed to the village health centre. I later became seriously ill and the doctors were not certain what was wrong, but I was asked to take plenty of water and rest a lot. I obeyed for a while, but went back to my typing as soon as I was a little better. This time, I virtually had to force myself to take food because I was always weak and had lost my appetite. I couldn't type for long periods anymore. Mama prepared some fever herbs for me, but that failed too. In no time, I was back at the health centre.

Omo was by my side, a tear dropping down his face as he blamed me for not resting well in the past. "You brought this on yourself. You were too hard on yourself, just typing those stories tirelessly for God knows who." His voice sounded distant. A nurse walked into the room and gave me an injection which sent me off to dream land.

My illness dragged on like that till everyone seemed to give up on my situation, even mama and papa, because they believed I was dying. I was a shadow of my former self with a weight loss of more than 10 pounds. A rumour began to go around in the village that I had committed an abomination and was being punished by the gods of the land with a strange illness.

One week in the health centre, another week out. I hardly ever saw Omo again because he wouldn't come to see me and I couldn't walk long distances so I just waited. Once, I sent a short note to him, saying I was disappointed he didn't care to know how I was doing. Still, no reply came. Obviously, he too had given up on our relationship out of fear of being infected with my illness. I didn't shed a tear about losing what we had because we almost had nothing in common. While I was strong-willed, Omo wasn't. Now that it was over between us, I could see that he hadn't really made enough impact in my life to make me miss him. I only ached to leave my bed and get on with my life, but I was tied down with a great lack of strength.

A ray of hope returned to my life with Mr. Timothy's arrival back in the village after so long. He had his medical team with him as usual. Papa sought their help on my condition the same night they arrived the village, which at last brought Lami and I together. A native of Nesu also, Lami was more widely travelled than most of us as I later found out. She was a part of the medical team and was also very sympathetic and understanding of everything I was going through, but most importantly of all, she shared my passion for a dream that was different from that of most girls in the village. She had found her way out of the village some years ago to further her education and realise her own dream of becoming a lab scientist in the city, and so far, she seemed fulfilled. Finally I had another friend and an even closer one, who wasn’t a pale skin. Thankfully, she had answers to some of the questions Mr. Timothy didn't.

The next morning, they were at my bed side taking samples for tests; blood, urine, sputum etc. I just let them have their way. Afterall, it really didn't make any difference. I chatted excitedly, but weakly, with my new found friend and confidant, Lami, about my write-ups and Mr. Timothy’s promise to help me publish them. She was nice as usual, helping me make constructive criticisms and editing everything.

Everyday I looked forward to seeing her. There was always something new to learn from her. She would read out from completed copies of my works after editing them. I wonder why she had so much interest in seeing me achieve my dream, why even Mr. Timothy cared about one insignificant black girl. Whatever the reason, they brought joy to my life and occupied a big portion of my heart, much more than anyone in this world ever could, even Omo. Mr. Timothy became much more than just a 'pale skin' to me.

Soon after the medical team started treatment on me, Mr. Timothy and Lami came up one day with both the best and saddest news I had ever heard. First, a popular magazine in the big city named 'Cluster' had agreed to publish my write-ups and wanted a staying contract with me if only I agreed. I couldn't help but scream with excitement at the news. With the little strength in me, I held on to them, one after the other in a tight hug and wept for joy. However, I noticed they were not as excited as me.

"Lulu, that's not all," Mr. Timothy said after a while, "I'm afraid the results of your tests show that you are suffering due to complications arising from AIDS . . . Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. I am so sorry."

"What does that mean Mr. Timothy, tell me," I retorted. I wept even more as he went on to tell me that I was dying. My illness had reached its late stages because it wasn't discovered early enough. Both he and Lami had worked extra hard in the past few weeks to make sure the good news came through quickly. That was the only way they could bring themselves to telling me the result of the medical tests.

I cried, not because I was so scared of death, but because of the bright future that stood before me – the future I was going to miss. Why was life so unfair to me? Just like the friends we had become, Lami was by my side always. She tried everything to calm me down after the news, but I couldn’t help myself. “why is my fate so cruel? Why me? Why?” I repeated as I wept.

The team was able to get me some drugs to help postpone my death and give me a little more strength to go on writing for some time. I was asked many questions to help them understand how I contracted the disease and stop a possible spread in the village. My dear friend and God-sent, Lami, my new sister Lami, has been so comforting ever since then. She says the nicest things to me even though I now look horrible. She has even promised that my dream of owning a magazine someday will never die. She will see to it and I believe her. Sometimes, when I look on the bright side of life, I think this same fate brought such a dear friend my way, else I may never have had the opportunity of knowing or appreciating her as much as I did now.

I am not too sad about dying anymore, because the truth is that I've lived a fulfilled life so far, and though it is almost ended now, I have lived longer than many girls in Nesu village ever will. I will live forever through my words.