She wanted to go to Nigeria to die, but she was too ill. ‘They said that there was nothing wrong, that she was imagining the pain and we backed them...up. We didn’t believe her. In the end, she left home for a while, because we didn’t believe her pain.’ Tears course down her cheeks. ‘I thought I was over the crying.’ ‘It’s all right.’ I place an awkward arm on hers, knowing that nothing I can say or do can assuage her grief or deflect her anger from me, whom she sees as part of the system that. Sara kissed my forehead and said, “You are beautiful girl! Just one last thing before I let you go. We would like to have a look at your legs. Most of the time you’ll dance with a see-through or a transparent sort of a skirt. Hence your legs should be in good shape, specially the inner thighs which might be visible while squatting, and should look as beautiful as your midriff. We would like to know how much grooming your legs need.”I obliged to her demand and started removing my skirt. My upper. More

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