Season of plenty brings misery for teenage girls

• As soon as the long rains begin, many walk hundreds of kilometres to rescue centre in bid to escape female ‘cut’

Fifteen-year-old, Elizabeth Loengetunya dreads the long rains season.

Although residents of East Pokot revere it as a time of plenty, the Standard Six pupil at Choru Primary School would rather the three-month period was scrapped from the calendar, or that the rains would incessantly fail.

It is a sentiment she shares with most of her age-mates, who during the long rains that normally fall in April, May and June are forced to undergo the age-old practice of female genital mutilation (FGM) to prepare them for marriage.

The season of plenty is also the time when schoolgirls as young as 10 get married off, some to men as old as their grand fathers.

“I would rather die than be circumcised. Once circumcised, a girl is forced to leave school and get married,” Elizabeth says bitterly.

Threatened

Two years ago, her mother fled from her matrimonial home when her husband threatened to kill her for resisting his plans to force Elizabeth, who was then 12, to undergo the cut and get married to a man he had already identified.

“My father almost killed my mother because she would not let him have his way... He had already negotiated and got part of the bride price,” she says.

They now share a small hut in Chepelo Village, provided by a sympathetic relative. They have no land and sell goat and camel milk to make ends meet.

“My father lives with my eldest brother and one of my sisters. I am afraid he might marry her off instead because she is already eight,” Elizabeth says.

Mini-exodus

In Nginya’ng, 100 kilometres from Chepelo, Reverend Christopher Chochoi of the Anglican Church also views the rainy season with foreboding.

The cleric and his wife, Nelly, run the Cana Rescue Centre, which was started in 2005 to shelter girls fleeing their homes because of FGM.

As the first of the grey rain clouds touch the hilltops in the East, a mini exodus of teenage girls begins, all on a journey towards Cana.

They walk hundreds of kilometres to get there, and even though they are aware that some will be turned away, the mere thought of what awaits them if they stay in their homes is enough to strengthen their resolve to get away.

From Loruk, where the tarmac road ends, it is an agonising one-hour drive through to Nginya’ng. When we get to the centre in Rev Chochoi’s compound, he is not at home but his wife shows us around.

“The long rains season is a time of absolute madness. We usually get hundreds of girls, some from as far as El Chamus, Laikipia and Samburu,” Mrs Chochoi says.

“They all want to be admitted to the centre, even though we have limited space. We are forced to turn most of them away after the circumcision period because we cannot afford to shelter them all.”