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.”