Locks in her head twirled and twirled. She rattles across the field where she once rolled her clean clothes in dust. She opens her chest wide to absorb all the messiness round. Once inside it will put everything back in order. That anguish felt as she turns the curves of every road. Her mother told her once, as she braided her hair, a story of a man who never missed a prayer. He turned out to have raped his two daughters and sent his kids abroad for higher education. In our neighbourhood, a girl who went to school must have slept with all the colleagues while she preserved her useless chastity for a man who never came. She would travel with class mates. Her father considered that an undiscussable subject. Her mother would melt on her mat if she even raises the issue with her. Her brother would shun her weeks. She once against all the neighbourhood wishes got her baccalaureate and will have now to go to a bigger city for university studies. Her brother boasted to all his inmates abroad that he will finance his sister studies. In exchange he imposed on her a course in which he sucked himself. Weeks before leaving high school, the orientation specialist sent by the government applauded the choice of the city and not the specialty. “Rabat is the Capital so all influential people live there.” God knows how many times her dad was summoned by a group of men after the salat to inquire about the reason of sending his daughter to a big city.

Badia, a girl whose traits were altered by the cold and no-care of the family. Providing for the clothing and school is by far a sacrifice of the family. Other than that, family neighbours or relatives can hand over used clothes. Badia never cared about her outer beauty simply because she cannot afford too. Even when having her periods she has to remove all leftovers so that her brothers would not suspect anything. Can nature go against its nature.

So there she is twirling to brush off nature leftovers. Nature gave her nothing but sour labels. They put her down for long and it is high time she flies with her own wings. Wings that she tailored herself. Badia does not want to fly, walk nor not use her feet. All what Badia wants is to keep rolling.