Mum, am I sick? The question hung in the air like Ngong Hills’ early morning fog. Twelve-year-old Lynet Wanja stood quietly by the door of their one-room house in Gichagi, Ngong, her eyes wide with confusion. Her school dress was tied around her waist, an old hoodie draped over her hips. Her mother, Beatrice Mwaniki, paused mid-stir as she prepared porridge over their single burner. She turned slowly to face her daughter, heart pounding, not with fear, but with a sense of urgency.
The day had come.“No, my sweet girl,” she said gently, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and beckoning Wanja close. “You are not sick. You’ve just become a woman.”