The taste of love

– Come on, honey, this one is for Mommie. – my grandmother held the fork in front of my mouth in expectation. I opened my mouth bravely. – Good job! Now this one is for Daddy. She picked another piece from my plate and made me eat it. I hated it. Not only the taste of the lamb but also …

Forgotten

On my way home, the light began to dim and fade away. There was noone on the small street alongside the water, when I heard quick steps behind me. Another jogger, I thought and looked back. He didn’t really look like a jogger. He wore jeans and a white shirt and his big belly jiggled as he ran. – Where …

On menstrual hygiene

– What are you going to do with this, mom? – Oh, I am just going to need some of these soon. – my mother said vaguely and dumped the huge package on her bed. Then she opened it and took a huge gray sheet out. – But what is it? – I insisted, watching her folding it in twos …

Starvation of the Soul

There are many hungry people in the world. A lot of them are women. And many are still girls. We all know it, don’t we? We have all seen the pictures of starving children on posters, buildboards, or on TV. I know, I see some every day and we cannot possibly talk enough about it because according to statistics, almost …

Zeitgeist

A couple of days ago a three-year-old from my daughter’s kindergarden peed in his last clean pants just when his mom came to pick him up. Without giving it much thought, his mother opened his sister’s drawer and – not being able to find any pants – gave him one of her skirts to wear on the way home. He …

Sur l’√©ducation

In French, the word l’√©ducation doesn’t only mean education, it also means upbringing, raising a child. It means teaching your child how to behave in different situations, what to eat, when to sleep or play, who has what social roles etc. And most importantly, l’√©ducation doesn’t begin in school, it starts from birth. I really like this concept, because according …

On pain and boundaries

Pointing at my hair, she said that’s how human hair was supposed to be. Like a white woman’s hair. What?! I could only shake my head, unable to reply. Then I changed the subject, because I was too uncomfortable. We never spoke about hair again, but her words haunted me for months after I left West Africa. I tried to …