Laini Saba (swahili for seven lines)

Trigger warning: child rape

It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. The narrow streets were still murky and the tin sheds frail.

The large all-white tin house at the end of the street was still standing. It was just as she remembered it.

Laini Saba had not changed much over the years.

On a normal week day, during the morning hours, men and women swarm these streets jostling trying to make their way to work or to the market - not to mention the children in uniform rushing to school - one could easily mistake laini saba for the most populous section in Kibra. But this only lasts until around 10am, when the slum dulls down to it's true definition - an uninhabitable congestion of tin sheds.

But today, being a Sunday, the streets are still populated at 10.30 in the am.

Most people here don't go to work on sundays, they only leave their tin houses to go and check on their friends or to go to church.

Those going to church come out early doning colorful apparels that are reserved for this specific day.

Spanning a radius of more than three hundred meters, Laini saba boasts a host to at least two hundred churches of varying denominations and varying capacities. Some within close proximity.

Between 10am and 2pm every sunday, the churches of Laini saba engage in what could easily be a 'who's-the-loudest' competition. Each church bringing out their loudest public address systems and seemingly tries to outdo the other in singing and preaching.

In the evening, the streets of Laini saba come alive, turning into an open market swarming with merchants trying to make an extra buck and revelers squandering their hard earned money.

And come sunday night and it's time for women and children to go out and drag their drunk husbands and fathers out of the gutters.

It is on such an eventful day that Halima, in a black hijab, stands at a crossroads looking down a narrow murky street.

This is not just any other street, it is where Halima grew up. It is also the place where, one Sunday night, a monster with a Bible took away her innocence and subjected her to a life of emotional trauma and insecurity.

What hurt her most was not the act, but that one had believed her, not even her own mother.

She had fled at night, hoping to leave the pain behind, but the pain had gone with her. And for all these years, she has had to live a life of fear, bearing a burden that was not of her own doing.

A few months ago, her therapist had suggested that she confront her monster as a way to heal. She had chosen a sunday as be the perfect day to finally face the monster and, once and for all, find her healing.

Halima plays out her plan in her head for the millionth time. "I'll go in while the monster is preaching and walk straight to the front of the church, then I'll take off my head wrap and show my face, and while he's reeling in shock, I'll tell everyone how their so called pastor is a rapist. He will be so embarrassed, he will have no option but to confess and apologize to me."

Halima places a hand over her chest trying to calm her thumping heart.

The all-white church at the end of the street quiets down. Halima adjusts her head wrap to cover her face, leaving only her eyes and heads down the narrow street determined to execute her imagination.

She stops in front of the wooden door and listens to the voice of a woman introducing the 'Reverend', "brothers and sisters," the voice had began, "let's us kneel down and raise our hands as we receive our beloved angel of god, our protector, our husband, our master, our lord and savior, reverend Kazuma".

Halima freezes. This is a voice she knows too well, a voice she had grown up listening to.

She slowly pushes the wooden door in and squints into the dim lit room, her eyes taking time to adjust.

She notes that the gathering comprises of only women, all of them on their knees.

She looks up, and standing in front, at the 'altar', in all white, is her mother.

Halima watches, in horror, as her mother bows her head and curtsies to the monster as it slowly makes it way from the back of the 'altar' to the podium, almost in slow motion.

"Mother!", she whispers, her throat choking in what she meant for a scream.

All the while, the monster has also been staring at her, puzzled, wondering why a woman in Muslim attire would be standing at the door.

Halima pulls down her veil and show her face.

Halima's mother, following the reverend's gaze, turns to the door and comes face to face with her daughter.

"Halima?, is that you? Halima. Come in. What are you wearing my daughter?"

Halima enters. She states at her mother, her eyes welling, "you didn't believe me. You said I was pretending." She makes her way to the front of the church "You knew. You knew all this time."

Her mother looks to the reverend, as if asking for permission. The reverend nods his approval. "My daughter, you will never understand this things until you come back to the fold. It was my duty as your mother to make sure you were purified," her mother replies. She opens her arms welcomingly. "Welcome back. We've all been cleansed. You were lucky my daughter. You were lucky the angel of god saved you, before those filthy men laid their hands on you."

Halima stops. She stares at her mother unable to believe her words.

She turns around, at the grinning faces of the kneeling women, all nodding in acceptance.

She turns to the monster. He's just standing there smirking proudly. "You are a rapist. You're not a servant of God. You're just a filthy monster who preys on weak women and you should be in prison."

Her mother takes a step towards her and slaps her across the face. "How dare you? Get down on your knees and repent to the angel of god." she demands.

Halima stares at her mother her eyes welling up. She takes a step back, restraining herself, "All this time, I believed he was the monster, but you're worse. You two deserve each other." she nods at her mother.

"You were my first," the monster finally speaks startling her. He turns to Halima's mother, "now that she's back we can be a complete house. Seven is a complete number."

Halima stares at him. She wants to call him names, insult him, but she somehow she can't, she only stares at him, her mouth suddenly refusing to cooperate with her brain.

They stare off for what seems like an eternity. She can hear herself breathing, which at this point, seems very loud.

She turns away from him and faces the congregation.

"My own mother allowed your 'lord' here, to not only rape me, but to also infect me with HIV," she pauses, just long enough, to let her words sink. "Yes. I am HIV positive. I have never slept with any man since he..." she let's her statement trail off. "You're all probably infected too." she states as a matter of fact. "That is not something you can change now. But I want you to ask yourself this one question, who will protect your daughters from such monsters?"

Halima pulls her headwrap over her head and heads for the door as, one by one, the now enraged women, get to their feet.

"Halima! If it were not for this angel of god you'd be miserable," her mother calls after her, "you'd probably be married to a drunkard, living in the streets. Halima! Get back here. You listen to your mother. You belong here,"

Halima, with tears rolling down her cheeks, makes for the open door, the only source of light in the shed. She holds her head high and walks out into the brightness.

The confrontation had not gone exactly the way she had imagined it, but she had faced her monster none the less, and that was all that mattered.