A blank stare and a faint smile; that was the facial expression the young woman had when

she noticed i was observing her. That face represented a million things all at a time. Trust me; you could only just describe a few of those messages in writing. When i met her for the first time she was down by the lake carrying water in an old broken pot. It was only one in the afternoon and the number of things she had done for the day was uncountable, and impressive. She diligently bent over the water and let it flow into her pot and whispered this to herself Ah tt loba la ssu ny o moyn, dina longo di nams, Jabea longo di y, Jemea longo di bolan o wass ka na n no moyn. Bola bisso i da la wenge It was the Lords Prayer in her dialect, and she had developed the habit of saying her prayers while doing her morning activities. When the pot was full, she laid it on her head and led south. While she walked away she continued to say her prayer, and you could tell from the length of time it took, she was saying it over and over. Her endless legs, dark brown eyes, thick dark lips, and distinguished make up added to her slow but steady walking pace, prcised footsteps and her upright body posture made the whole sight extremely pleasing. Her brown skin blended beautifully with the surrounding green foliage, the overwhelming gold sand the light blue skies. Her body shape was of ultimate proportion, and her gestures were conscientiously posed. She was a beautifully crafted piece of art. But lets go back to our main focus; her faint smile and the glare in her eyes that conveyed a million messages at the same time. It was that faint smile she had put on, when her mother gave her jewelry

her female ancestors had owned and kept preciously over the generations. She wore it every day, and protected it jealously. With the glare in those dark brown eyes she had seen her mother and other women being flogged to death by the village elders, in an attempt to clear the tribe of disrespectful women who upgraded themselves to male statuses, at the tender age of 12. That blank stare in Endals big brown eyes was the same one that watched her sister cry in confusion when she woke up to a red bed. The little girl she was at the time had never witnessed such distress coming from her sister who was known to be firm. That faded smile was the same one the young lady had on her face, a few years later when she was handed over to her husband as customary laws wanted. The first few months were mystifying and demanding but she made it. As they say in the Duala dialect Essungu t Ewiy meaning The little are the strongest. The exact same glare i was seeing now was the one she had on when in a mud hut alone with two elderly women, she watched a little being come out of her. She asked herself various times if it was sure there is no tutorial on how to handle this thing. Here they are today, 5 years later, the glare and the faint smile, the emblems of a lifes story yet to be completed.