Women of the South Vales

I guess the hardest part was the drive over there. I never ever thought it would come to this. Both girls were overexcited by the prospect of meeting a grandmother they had never seen or even heard talking about. Rod’s parents had passed away before we married, so they had no concept of grandparents. Little Elsie had difficulty grasping the fact that her mummy had a mummy too. I was bombarded with relentless questions as one query fuelled another one.

‘Why didn’t I live with my mummy anymore?’ Elsie assured me she was never going to leave me. At two years older the much wiser Evie informed her she would be evicted eventually. ‘Didn’t I love her? Or didn’t she love me? Was she nice? Was there a daddy too?’ That at least was a question I felt confident I could answer. ‘Just like mummy and daddy my mummy and daddy had children and then they separated. My daddy just isn’t around anymore.’

They were familiar with that. Daddy didn’t show anymore. Not for birthdays, not for ballet. And his alimony didn’t show either. So no more ballet. And no more mummy the homemaker. Now it was mummy the waitress. Or rather had been. Mummy got fired and mummy was desperate these days, in more ways than one. I wiped away a few tears at that point, from nervousness, from fatigue.

My girls were sufficiently awestruck by that to fall silent for a while. Mummy the tough cookie didn’t cry that often in front of her daughters. Elsie even fell asleep during the last stretch. Evie held her tight for comfort. To this day, I still think she knew somehow. I still wasn’t sure at that point, but what choice did I have? I hadn’t been back since marrying away. Seeing my mother again was the most daunting of all.

I had counted on stalling a bit, driving into the rural area of my sleepy hometown. There must be many changes over the years, so I was bound to lose my way. No such luck. I found myself rather abruptly at the entrance of the still familiar driveway. Evie sat up and peered out at the fence, flowerbeds, etc. adorning the garden. I immediately focussed on the shadowy figure busy behind the kitchen window. My mother.

I killed the engine. ‘Look mummy! There’s a swing.’ Incredible. There it was indeed. There can’t have been a kid in that garden for over fifteen years. It was as if my mother was whispering directly in my ear. ‘See. I told you you’d be back. With your girls.’ Elsie was awake now and both girls fled the car and made for the swing. Tireless energy. Alerted to our arrival by their happy squeals, my mother was already on her way towards the car over the front path.

I had been on the phone to her almost a fortnight ago. It had been sheer drunken desperation. The first call since leaving town with my husband. She had our address and Rod forwarded our phone number too, but she left it up to me. Probably wasn’t surprised she didn’t hear anything, not even when the kids were born. Rod never could figure that one out. Just like the rest he failed to register. My mother patiently waiting. Lying in ambush.

After the monthly payments stopped, I went through the usual stuff. Spending money and losing time with lawyers and social services. Moving to yet another cheaper place. Being the wretch that cheats the kids out of all the fun stuff. Finding a lousy, badly paid job. Working all hours. Dumping the girls with a sympathetic neighbour. Losing the lousy job. Falling behind with the rent. Bills lying around unpaid. Becoming anxious. Getting desperate.

Then the trouble with the girls started. It was the neighbour who first brought it to my attention.

If she was embarrassed, I was mortified. ‘Alice, I’m not even sure I should bring this up, but… are you aware Evie is rubbing herself? Maybe something is bothering her down there, but I don’t feel it is my place to check on that, of course…’ an uncomfortable silence followed as I was dumbstruck. ‘Eh, no, I didn’t know, I’ll look into it. Thanks,’ I finally managed to blurt out.

At that time it felt like I was always rushing them into their clothes or beds, dropping them off at school or the neighbour, telling them off and feeding them frozen dinners. There was no quality time whatsoever left. In shock, I went to look at them in their adjoining beds. Already fast asleep, Elsie was nuzzling her inseparable rag doll while Evie had her favourite teddy bear squeezed between her thighs. I clasped my face and started to snivel.

I only knew of one way to address this issue. At the next occasion I decided to bathe the girls separately. I inspected Evie’s sex thoroughly, like I hadn’t done since she had been potty-trained years before. Of course I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. ‘That tickles, mummy!’ Evie laughed playfully, pushing my hands away. With Elsie already in bed I decided to have a stern talk with my eldest daughter.

‘Evie darling, why do you keep putting teddy between your legs?’ I sounded like my mother. ‘He helps me fall asleep mummy.’ ‘You don’t take naps anymore, yet you do it during the day too, Evie. Why?’ she looked puzzled, obviously she had never consciously addressed the issue. ‘It just feels good, mummy, teddy always comforts me.’ It sounded familiar. Time to get tough. My throat felt dry and I got a lump in my stomach.

‘Evie, pay attention now. This is very, very important. You mustn’t touch yourself down there, not rub yourself with teddy or anything else. It is very, very bad for you. And teddy doesn’t like it either. If daddy knew he would get very angry with you. I understand it itches, but you must learn to ignore it; come to mummy if you’re bothered. I’m serious, Evie, if you don’t stop this I will have to punish you very severely, I will not tolerate this!’ god, I sounded harsh.

Evie’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped, not used to be spoken to in such manner. ‘But mummy…’ she pleaded, ‘it’s not fair. Elsie does it too… and…’ Oh, no. They were younger than I had been. ‘Mummy will help you both not to do it and if you feel bad you come to me, ok?’ I soothed. I made a mental list of all the things I needed, some of which I could ill afford, hoping desperately it would be enough.

At night, I bound their hands and feet to the bed boards, even though they complained of the strain. During the day I made them wear thick diapers, telling their schoolmistresses they had started bedwetting again due to the dire circumstances at home. They were teased mercilessly by their classmates. Still they managed to touch themselves at times. I scolded, I threatened, I spanked them for the first time ever. To no avail.

My daughters became more withdrawn and secretive. I despaired and stalled the unavoidable. Finally, one night, after getting my courage up by drinking which I am unaccustomed to, I rang my mother. She sounded placid, as if I only rang her last week instead of over a decade ago. I ranted on about having two daughters, my marriage failing, the predicament I was in. Levelly, she asked how the girls were coping. Sobbing hysterically, I told her they were doing it too.

Calmly and determined, she got in charge. ‘Pay what bills you can, make a list of your outstanding debts and get over here for the girls’ summer vacation. We’ll sort them out and get you back on track,’ She told me and I obeyed. It felt like capitulation. I didn’t tell the girls until we had to pack up. Only then did I realize how little we had left. Our latest place was a bed-sit, so a few trunks were all we took.

My mother tapped the side window. I had been staring blindly ahead for god knows how long. ‘Hello Alice. I’m glad you decided to come. It’s been a long time. Why don’t you introduce my granddaughters to their nana?’ so it had already begun. They were to be no longer my daughters, they had become her granddaughters. ‘Hello ma. Thanks for having us. We…’ I broke down; my mother opened the car door and pulled me into her arms.

My next coherent thought was at the kitchen table, where I found myself behind a strong mug of coffee. ’Time stood still here,’ I mused aloud. Indeed it had. It looked as if I had walked back in the past. ‘I never saw the point in changing anything, Alice.’ No microwave, no computer, no cordless phone even. I would have to get used to that again. My mother had aged. ‘Do you still work, ma?’ ‘I retired two years ago, but I still do some volunteering from time to time.’

With quiet confidence she summoned the girls inside. Shyly, they huddled around me. ‘Eve, Elise, I’m your nana. You’re going to spend the summer here. After we’ve had apple pie and lemonade I’ll show you your rooms.’ A little awed by her decisive manner they sat down quietly and sampled the pie I knew to be delicious. She soon put them at ease, yet imbibed them with the certainty her authority wasn’t to be trifled with.

Exhausted with the trip and all things new, my girls practically fell asleep at the table. We carried them upstairs. Here, things had changed a bit. The master bedroom, my old room and the one bathroom had remained untouched. However, my deceased brother’s den had very recently been converted into two cosy little bedrooms. The pale pink paint seemed barely dry. There had obviously been no doubt in her mind that we would show up.

We gave the girls a quick shower before tucking them in. my eyes darted around, looking for a way to restrain them during the night. My mother picked up on this. ‘Don’t worry; they’re worn out as it is. That’ll be over soon anyway. You and I have some talking to do.’ Meekly but resentfully I followed her downstairs. I felt like she was going to take over our lives and there was nothing I could do about it.

I eyed her suspiciously as she heaped some stew on my plate. ‘Before anything else, Alice, why the hostility?’ ‘Why?! You cut me mother! And out of sheer desperation, I’m going to let you do the same to my daughters! That’s why, I guess!’ ‘I cut you, yes. I also wiped your nose, grounded you and ironed your clothes. Get over it. Like boys, all girls ought to be cut for a number of reasons. Stop playing the victim and blaming others for your indolence.’

‘What do you mean?! Your denying me even the right to be upset about this childhood trauma?’ Faced with so much stubbornness my mother sighed ‘to my knowledge, in your entire life, you have but taken one single initiative and that was to flee into marriage with an unsuitable man. Surely you blame the failing of that union on being cut?’ ‘ yes mother, as a matter of fact I do! I wasn’t able to respond properly and…’ She was already nodding in mock agreement.

‘Did he even notice you were cut? Does he have even the vaguest conception of female anatomy? That dumb redneck you married was simply poking you for his own gratification and expected you to writhe on the bed with the sheer pleasure of it. You could have had a clit the size of my thumb and you wouldn’t have felt a thing, honey!’ There was no way I was going to win this argument; worse, she had a point. I choked back the tears.

‘You reckon I can still feel something then, mother?’ I asked in a small voice. ‘Hell, yes! I didn’t castrate you, for god’s sake! With proper vaginal stimulation it should be very pleasant indeed.’ The look in her eyes told me she was speaking from experience. I couldn’t put into words what this reassurance meant to me, hope for myself and the future of my daughters. I hurried around the table that divided us and threw myself in my mother’s arms, sobbing with relief.

Stroking my hair and obviously moved she said, ‘I do blame myself for a number of things, Alice. Neglecting you when your brother was MIA, forgetting my daughter when I grieved for him and downright ignoring you when his death caused a rift between your father and me. I also was an ambitious midwife and more practical than warm. But I do love you and I’m glad we could clear this up. Let me make it up by helping you and the girls, Alice.’

How good it felt to be able to let her take over without feeling guilty. Emotionally spent and tired beyond belief, I was sent to bed soon after our poignant confessions. It was much chillier in my old room upstairs and I quickly got in bed. It was like being thrown back in time. All the familiar smells were there, if a bit musty. A car passing through the bend outside threw the usual light pattern on my old bookcase, the stuffed animals on top and the memorabilia on the walls…

I closed my eyes and was a young girl again. Free of responsibility but full of futile anxieties. In this room I had played, dreamed, cried and hoped. Almost every scene of my childhood could be traced back to this place, or so it seemed. Although, I hadn’t been circumcised between these four walls. Even my physical ‘convalescence’ as it had been known then, had not been confined to this room alone.

I had never allowed the memories to creep up on me. Now they came back with vivid force. Strangely calm, I faced them head on this time. With her medical background my mother detected the signs early on. She didn’t make a fuss, I can’t even remember if she said anything. I don’t think she did. She changed the sweaty sheets and wiped my clammy hands and somehow her disapproval was clear. That didn’t stop me, of course.

At that time, my mother had her office in the conservatory behind the garage. She helped deliver most babies at home, but a lot of local women looked her up beforehand on all kind of women’s business as she called it. She liaised with the local doctor and also with the hospital across town. I even recall her doing first aid, as she had all the necessary equipment. Looking back on it, she had a thriving practice, so to speak.

The conservatory was off limits to my older brother and me. One day, one of the first of Easter break, my aunt, a nurse, paid her a visit. A bit odd, on a weekday. Shortly after her arrival I was briskly summoned to the office. I went, totally unaware at that point, of what was going to happen to me. Both dressed professionally, they awaited me in this unfamiliar office that looked more like a surgery to me. All three of us were very tense all of a sudden.

My mother had her back turned to me while she was laying out some equipment. Her sister pulled me behind a screen. ’Alice, we want you to undress and try to pee in this potty over here,’ she said. It was awkward, but I did as I was told, trying to squeeze out a few drops. ‘Aunt Vera, I don’t have anything to wipe myself with,’ I remember saying. ‘Never mind, dear, we’ll do that for you,’ my aunt said, reappearing with a white shift and holding it out for me to slip into.

I panicked when I felt the sleeves had been sewn shut. Instead, ribbons were attached and Vera swiftly secured them at my back, effectively crossing my arms immobile over my torso. ‘Ma, what’s going on? What are you doing to me? I’m scared, ma!’ I squealed in a high pitched voice. ‘I’m sorry, honey. We’re going to clean you up a bit. Remove the itchy part. It’ll sting but it wont last. Try to hold as still as you can. Now be brave,’ was the answer.

Vera propelled me towards the examination table, but my knees buckled. Eventually they had me up on it, straddling the width of the table. It pulled my legs so far apart it hurt. My legs were swathed with bandages to the legs of the table. A broad belt fixed my upper body to the tabletop. My face was pushed to the side and held down with a similar belt. The cold metal buckle bit into my cheek and the wide strap all but blocked my view.

I pleaded and I whined, but the sisters remained silent. The shift was pushed back over my belly, thus baring my spread-eagled sex to full view. I had already smelt the nauseating alcohol but I still jumped when my vagina was dabbed with cotton wool soaked with the icy solution. Vera took this as a cue to take my hipbones in her grip and rest her weight on them. Pinned down like this, even my breathing grew laboured.

Then the nightmare began in earnest. I felt a cold metal tip burrow under my hood. It grazed my clit unpleasantly. Then the metal turned out to be a pair of scissors as it bit down into my tender flesh. In a white flash of pain it split my hood in two. I hissed and wailed. Another metal object severed the remaining adhesions of my newly exposed clit. It sent bolds of excruciating agony through my body.

Wheezing and sobbing I registered a warm liquid running down my vagina. It could only be blood. A cruel clamp caught my glans in an unendurable grip. A swift blade severed it forever from my body, bringing on another wave of acute suffering. My sounds and protestations were incoherent by now, struggling with snot, tears and coughing. My tortured sex was forgotten for a moment as my head was freed and my airways cleared.

I strained to look down, but my arms and the crumpled shift on my belly blocked my view. Instead I stared at my methodical and efficient tormentors, who resumed their business. My mother applied a single drop of burning liquid onto my pulsing clitoral shaft, staunching its bleeding. I gasped at this new onslaught. With no more than three measured stitches she sealed my hood back in place over the fresh wound.

Her next actions puzzled me at first. She seemed to be playing with my lips. For the first time, my aunt commented on the procedure. ‘You need to take off more, Mona.’ ‘No. I only remove the protruding bits nowadays,’ my mother replied. I saw her bring down a razor like instrument with a glowing hotwire. Then I felt it sear off part of my little lips. One by one. The scorching hurt was overwhelmed by the stench of my own burning flesh.

I was so hoarse now; I could only emit low moans anymore. Again, my vagina was thoroughly cleansed with alcohol. It stung horribly but I managed no more protest. My teeth chattered in shock. I felt so cold, then. My bonds were removed and my aunt pulled my upright. ‘There, there little Alice, the worst is over now.’ I didn’t dare contemplate what else they had in store for me. My legs were numb and my whole body ached.

My mother started to tidy up. As I sat shivering I saw the bloodied instruments being cleaned and disinfected. Aunt Vera held me covered in a blanket; otherwise I would have swayed right off the table. As ma needed to clear up there to, I was made to stand. I slumped against my aunt from weakness. Shortly after, they both supported me back to the house. Getting up the stairs took forever, each time I had to step up, I felt like being split in two.

I was directed towards the bathroom and sat on a chair. They took away the blanket and removed the sweat soaked shift that clung to my body. With a washcloth each, they washed me vigorously with deliciously hot water. This time they left my sex alone. My hair was rinsed and braided high up my head. These simple gestures felt extremely comforting to me. They practically lulled me to sleep.

I had to stand again and they put another, clean shift on me. I whimpered as my arms were secured to my chest once more. They shuffled me along to my bed next door. The cool fresh sheets were very soothing to my bare legs and buttocks. My mother tucked me in very tightly and tied me down with two elastic restraining belts that went over my sheets and blankets. She must have brought these from the hospital, I thought.

‘Don’t try to get up and lie still. I’ll check on you later, ok?’ As if I were going anywhere in this state. With those words and a fleeting caress on my cheek ma left me, leaving the door ajar. She and aunt Vera descended the stairs. They had coffee and talked for a while. After aunt Vera left, ma picked up the phone at the bottom of the stairs. My mother made a few phone calls that I can distinctly remember. At least what she said.

The first call must have been to my father. ‘Yes, it’s done, dear… she’s quite comfortable now… I feel drained though.’ Next she rang the mother of my classmate Marcia, explaining I wouldn’t be joining them on next days’ swimming trip after all. I was ‘convalescing’. It wasn’t the first or last time I heard that word, but now I knew what it meant too. The final call was to order in some groceries from the local store.

I remember feeling cheated out of that swimming trip. She had no right, she promised. I lay there, with a throbbing pain between my thighs, wondering when I would be allowed to go swimming again. It all seemed so grossly unfair. Softly, I started to cry, with heaving but silent sobs and hot tears running down my cheeks. It was only midafternoon and sleep wouldn’t come. I felt drained too.

As promised, my mother checked up on me. Lifting the bed coverings, she examined my swollen vagina, probing it cautiously but I wailed anyway. There was no more bleeding; she had done a good job. She put some ice to my pubic area, careful not to let seep any moisture onto my small wounds. She took my temperature and my pulse too, but they must have been all right.

After she tucked me back in, I asked her for a drink. My throat was sore and dry. ‘No Alice, no food or drinks until tomorrow, I’m afraid. I’ll get you a spoon of honey, though.’ The sweet sticky stuff restored my throat somewhat and it must have been good against the shock too. However, it made me extremely thirsty. I silently resented my mother for denying me a drink. In hindsight, it turned out to be a small mercy.

I must have dozed off at some point and when I woke up the next day was already well on its way. I could tell the swelling was less and the throbbing had all but subsided. I wanted to get up and I needed to pee, even if I my throat was scorched dry by now. I called out for my mother, who came right up. ‘You slept well! You didn’t even wake when I last checked up on you! I suppose you need the bathroom, right?’

As she helped me sit up after removing the sheet and blankets, I was devastated by the extreme soreness of all the muscles in my hips and upper legs. ‘You’re not going anywhere for a while yet, are you?’ ma said as she registered the disappointment on my face. She practically had to carry me to the toilet seat. My bladder was ready to burst but nothing came out. After my mother applied some more ice, the pee started to trickle out.

I screamed as the little droplets ran down over my freshly seared lips. I tried to stop peeing but I just couldn’t control myself. Ma tried to ease my predicament by holding the lips apart but still I shuddered in pain. Still I drank greedily when she held a glass of water in front of me. The thirst was simply too great. I already dreaded the next visit to the bathroom. Defeated, I was led back to my bed.

Growing fretful now, I refused to get back in. ‘Alice, be reasonable. You can hardly stand let alone walk. Believe me, sitting up is out of the question too. So lie down.’ I implored her to take off the shift and free my arms then. ‘No, it is too soon. You have no business touching yourself down there anyway. Now behave!’ I was in no condition to put up much of a fight as she struggled to get me back onto the bed.

This time, she tied my feet to the lower bedposts, keeping my legs slightly apart. The elastic belts went directly over my upper body. The shift was pushed up and once more my vagina was thoroughly cleansed with the biting alcohol. I wriggled and howled with pain and anger. Afterwards, she covered me with a single sheet. When she left, my mother was clearly upset, trembling and choking back her tears. She turned away so that I wouldn’t see.

For the better part of a week, I was thus confined to my room, except for the hateful trips to the bathroom. My mother fed and bathed me, rubbed my sore limbs, cleaned my wounds. I healed quickly. She put up with my tantrums and sometimes lost patience with me. My tormentor was also my caretaker. Somehow I had forgotten that over the years. I can’t remember my father or brother looking in on me even once.

It was then decided I would try to come down for the Sunday roast. I was released from my bonds and put into a new, yellow dress. I got off the stairs with some difficulty but by myself. I had to regain control over all my recently freed limbs. Nobody talked about what had happened to me. It was very inappropriate of me to bring it up; if I did, I was ignored. When I checked later, my pleasure bud had irretrievably gone. Life simply resumed.