She was 12 years old when she was made aware of what being a woman meant. She had a beautiful posture. Straight back, a bounce in her step, eyes looking ahead confidently and a smile lurking around her lips, barley waiting for an invitation, before it burst forth lighting up her visage.
She was a blossoming child, on the threshold of womanhood.
It was late afternoon and she was waking along the road towards her home, lost in her own world, reminiscing about her day, when suddenly out of nowhere, a man came racing towards her on a bike. He grabbed her tender budding breast and passed a very crude comment about her blossoming buds. She pulled herself away and ran home, heart pounding, tears streaming down her face. She went to her mother, hugged her and cried endlessly. Her mother went shopping and for the first time bought her a bra.
'Why mamma? Why must I be bound?'
'Coz you are growing up child.'
'Why mamma must I grow up?'
'So that one day you can nourish your child at your breast and teach him to respect the breast that has nurtured him.'