Learning to Love

She was only seven when she tasted steel.

Innocence met brutality. The unforgiving cold grew inside of her numbing her buoyant spirit. She was
seven when her fragility succumbed to musty smelling oppression. As she lay there motionless, she
realized what had happened to her: Female Genital Mutilation. She heard her aunt who had planned
this and her sobbing mother behind a curtain and was confused, abandoned, betrayed in the name of
tradition. She wondered if the hot haze of tears that burned her eyelids, the dry tongue that stuck to the
roof of her mouth was hate or rage but what did she know of these?

She was only seven.

The coir mat that she lay on scraped her back, but she was glad for some warmth. If she could feel
both sensations, she could decide what to choose. While in the throes of pain she felt something begin
to flood her. A resolute idea, an anchor, she would grow up to be what her small world had lost. She
would become kind.

She was seven. She was my mother.

Shy and withdrawn, she still smiled and stood up for friends, and her teachers praised her reading and
writing. Singing came naturally to her as compensation for a voicelessness she felt. Dancing in the
park brought peace and belonging. Without realising it she was learning empathy and when she chose
to practice dentistry at twenty-seven, her patients were amazed by her care. The abundance of grace,
kindness, joy, and sheltered adventures she has raised me with makes me hope I bring deserving
dignity to this story that runs in my blood. She often spoke of wonder at how far she had come.

Then came the test.

That long estranged aunt called and asked for help to save her grandson’s life. Her buried resentments
began to resurface, and she refused. She had overcome so much alone, bearing a heavy burden for
three decades, her anchor of compassion crumbled.

She was thirty-seven when she gingerly laid her past in my hands.

Struggling with the tug of empathy, which had shaped her identity, she decided to
seek medical advice on whether she could be an organ donor. Laying in the hospital bed ready to give
away a piece of herself, to sustain someone who had hurt her, she experienced an unforeseen,
undeniable peace wash over her. When she woke up weak but happy, she found herself surrounded by
loving family and friends who were overflowing with appreciation and gratitude for what she had
done. Proud of being able to build meaningful connections while also protecting herself and her
boundaries, it finally all made sense to her. In that moment, she understood why her aunt was so
desperate and felt true empathy for the first time. She realized forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves;
freeing us from hate and anger and allowing us to move forward with compassion both inside and out.

Learning to love had brought her deliverance.