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Preface of The Ever Untitled

A road…a dust road…long and serpentine.

It wasn’t like any other road I had ever seen, I hadn’t seen much, come to that.

A nomad lost in Hemingway’s fishless desert couldn’t be half as fascinated about the mirages of shifting shadows of water seen at the horizon as I was about that God-forsaken place the road led to. It was part of a dream I couldn’t contemplate giving up, a dream I had been harboring secretly ever since my father told me what that road was, where it led to and what it stood for. I closed my eyes and stretched before me a road that was not merely filth and dirt.

Not merely an ancient connection to a modern world.

But the very epitome of independence and liberty.

Liberty from that corner of the world where humans were burnt at stake along with their rights - and not just metaphorically - in favor of people who possessed the power to be in power.

It’s that corner of the world for which rest of the world uses mechanically heavy terms.

Genocide, Massacres, Mass-killings – terms I was quite unfamiliar with, for I didn’t have any school lessons I could encounter them in, although, along with thousands of others, I had been the victim of the persecution perpetrated by the people who believed and used the underlying concept as a weapon.

I have heard the dying screams, the pitiful cries of people who had seen death from an inch and succumbed to it hoping in a wry moment of dry humor that some day their people will start dying of old age rather than getting killed in riots and wars.

Riots and wars though, comprised only one part of the personal tragedy that was generic to all those who had the misfortune of having been born in that country. For women the magnitude of the personal tragedy was magnified a thousand times for, amongst the powers that rock the political map of a war-torn nation, are those men who choose to humiliate the weak and defenseless as a way of enhancing their ill-placed confidence in their masculinity. It’s that sub-set of humanity which takes extreme delight in subjecting women to novel and innovative forms of humiliation.

The more the degree of humiliation, the more successful is the entire exercise and more is the level of satisfaction achieved.

It didn’t take me long to realize that after the perpetrators were done with their subjects, it was not merely the residual physical strength that kept those, subjected to the physical and moral mutilation, sane. Those who managed to neutralize their minds as well to the atrocities- which would have been otherwise shameful but in the given circumstances only horrifically inhuman- that were done to their minds and bodies, were the sole survivors.

I had arrived at my own theory of Natural Selection, although I was a century late. But now that I have read Darwin, it seems ironic that to achieve the same end, we had used such diametrically opposite means.

My story, however, is not about the atrocities that came from without, but those which came from within. The atrocities that come from without are the result of the machinations of mechanical minds that belong to those dregs of humanity comprising a class which has shed its human veneer long back and doesn’t hesitate any more to come out of the façade that hides the most diabolical caricature of humanity ever.

My story is about those people who were my people, who I trusted and trusted enough to have entrusted them with the task of making me chaste, which at that time I thought only comprised a series of innocuous events, may be lectures revolving around the birds and the bees. I was proven seriously wrong and my faith broken beyond repair.

The Ever Untitled : A novel on Infibulation

OVERVIEW

The book “The Ever Untitled” is based on Infibulation - a cruel and ruthless custom still followed in remote parts of Africa. Wikipedia defines Infibulation as the practice of surgical closure of the female labia majora by sewing them together to seal off the female genitalia , leaving only a small hole for the passage of urine and menstrual blood. This is usually done on young girls around the onset of puberty , to ensure chastity. It is usually linked with female circumcision or removal of the clitoris and usually the labia minora as well, in order to render women theoretically less sexual.

They are usually performed without anesthetic and in unsanitary conditions, and without the consent of those infibulated. Many of the subjects of these practices have experienced severe infections and reproductive disorders as a result of these practices, and even death. Infibulation is usually reversed at the time of a girl’s marriage by simply cutting the connected tissue.

“The Ever Untitled” deals with the pathetic life cycle that each of the women subjected to this heinous ritual go through, over and above the tribulations of living in a war-torn, starving nation of Africa.

“The Ever Untitled” is the autobiography of a young woman from Ethiopia , Norah, who got infibulated when she was eight. It spans the time from her childhood to her adulthood, an entire journey where she encounters both the darkest and brightest shades of human nature. Filled with incidents that left her solitary and in immense pain, both physical and mental, she was a woman who managed to not only survive but she survived with a morality that never saw a tear in its fabric.

The book throws light on not only the delicate social equation between the men and women of Africa but also the emotional trauma that a mother of a daughter goes through; a mother who had been infibulated herself and has to decide whether she would curse her dear daughter to the same hell in return for social acceptance or would put her daughter’s happiness at the risk of eternal social ostracism.

Here is a Synopsis of the novel. To read the full book, buy it!!

SYNOPSIS

The story is divided into six sections signifying the various stages of her life marked by different levels of maturity, understanding and strength.

Innocence

This is, of course, the first phase. It spans her entire childhood from the time she landed in Ethiopia with her parents to the time she was dragged into a stifling old straw hut for the ritual of Infibulation.

Norah was a sensitive child and was closer to her father than her mother. Her father was a conscientious doctor and was immensely loved by the entire village. Norah was a single child and had a perfect childhood with a father who doted on her, a mother who tended to every whim of hers and an imaginary friend Nina who seemed to keep her out of trouble. However, trouble started soon. Norah’s perfect childhood slipped away from her in a sudden jerk when her father died in one of the many freak gunshots that take place in a country of unrest like Ethiopia, leaving her intensely lonely and dejected over her huge loss. The neighboring women, who she called aunts, however helped Norah and her mother in any way that they could. Although things had changed drastically for Norah with the death of her father, she soon discovered that these changes were not confined to her emotional boundaries only. They had spilled into her physical self as well.

Seduction of innocence:

When she was eight years old, one day the village elder, a very old hunch-backed woman offered her a lean wheat brownie. She took it and had it. Next thing she saw was an old straw hut, on the floor of which she had been spread-eagled. Those very women who she called aunts were pinning her down to the floor. From nowhere appeared the old hunchbacked woman with a knife in her hand. Amidst Norah’s heart-rending screams and absence of any kind of anesthesia whatsoever, the ritual of Infibulation was performed on her. In full view of her mother.

Once, it was performed, she was left unattended in a dark room for an entire week to recuperate. Recuperate, she did. But the scars that were left on her physical and emotional self never did heal.

Pain and Padlock, these were now her constant companions.

She was then too young to understand why it was done to her. She always held it against her mother for letting those women do what they did to her. Although she sometimes tried to talk to her mother, the connection between mother and daughter could never be established. Her mother ended up lecturing her on keeping “your husband happy” and she ended up loathing her mother even more for crippling her for life only to serve the sole purpose of keeping “your husband happy”.

Soon, there was talk of her marriage. A groom was chosen for her and she got married at the age of ten. On the wedding night, her innocence which had already been seduced started degenerating as well.

Degeneration:

On her wedding night, she caught fever and her husband left her. He returned after a week and forced himself on her weakened body. Norah now had a newer, more gruesome and self experienced picture of what it was like to be in pain, in an intense, head-splitting pain about which she was not allowed to complain.

Her husband unlocked her every night, forced himself into her, tearing apart her flesh and ripping away her vitals. When he was done, he would lock her up again.

Norah was broken. Body and soul.

She was treated as cattle and she accepted it.

Re-birth:

A year passed. A year devoid of feelings, esteem and respect for one’s own self.

A year when Norah grew more withdrawn and lost than before.

Soon, she knew she was pregnant. With the birth of that new life inside her body, there was birth of a new spirit as well.

The fact that Norah was pregnant didn’t go down well with her husband. During her eighth-month pregnancy, one night her husband came into her room, drunk and with a few other drunk friends.

Before Norah knew what was happening, they all crowded around her. They raped her, mutilated her over and over again.

She had a miscarriage. There were twins, one was still-born and one was dying.

She caught hold of the dying one and ran out into the night.

Regeneration:

She somehow managed to escape that country and reached her parents’ homeland, South Africa. Her dying child somehow managed to survive just as Norah herself did. It was a girl and she named her Nina.

Nina was Norah’s strength. Nina helped Norah to forget and to forgive. Norah worked hard and managed to scrape out a decent living both for herself and her daughter. She arranged for her daughter’s education and lived a life as close to happiness as was possible. The connection that she never had with her mother, she established with her daughter. She told her daughter about the cruel ritual of Infibulation and how it had irreversibly changed the course of her life.

Over the years, with the immense encouragement offered by her daughter, she gathered support against this cruel ritual. She opened a forum to educate women about it and ways of eradicating it by spreading awareness and education.

Moksha:

This is the final phase of her life when Norah and her daughter made a final pilgrimage to their homeland, Ethiopia. Working day and night, she managed to gather a faction of young women there to help her in educating the village elders and the other women for eliminating this vice.

Unfortunately, this made Norah unpopular amongst a few women. Coming home one night, Norah found Nina gone.

They had abducted Nina and infibulated her to teach Norah a lesson.

Hence, Norah’s life turned a full miserable circle. Once again, she gathered what was left of her dying daughter and took her away.

On her way back to South Africa, Nina died. But before her slow and painful death, she made Norah promise that she would never give up her crusade against this evil ritual.

Norah came back to South Africa and buried her daughter there. Along with her darling daughter, Norah had also buried her earthly possessions, feelings and connections. While burying her daughter, she swore to herself to free the society of such mindless and macabre rituals that succeed in only making walking zombies out of women.

Her journey still continues. And she’s walking her way to true and eternal Moksha.