My newest Book is out. It's a joint Book of mine. For more info, visit www.remenzack.com.


As my eyes grew dilated, feeling the same old wetness between the legs, the kind to make me scream and run to the hospital, asking for the emergency room. Phil, my boyfriend and lover of many years, fast asleep next to me didn't know what I was going through, just after our second time in bed as an erstwhile platonic couple.

I had swore to be pure and chaste, keeping myself for the only true man. Yes, I was celibate.

Even as a lady in her 30's, marriage wasn't mandatory for me. It was rather voluntary. I had a good job, a good life and a new good man to call mine, Phil.

Phil was the kind not to rush into anything, other than buying and selling houses, as he was the best realtor in business. He understood my values and I understood his, until the very first night he tucked the strange priapic figure into my being and soul.

It felt so painful, excruciating painful, making me roll my eyes. Phil had assumed I had this eye language, because I was enjoying myself for the first time sexually, but I could hear my insides scream for release.

The wetness continued, as I've heard many women say, you can't stop at one in the bedroom. Was I one of those women?

I put my hands between my legs and I could feel something other than mere liquid. It smelled nothing like mere liquid. Even in the dark, I could be this sensitive. It was blood, flowing out from my insides. I screamed like a troubled school girl, making Phil alert and alarmed. He had concern etched on his face, that was the last I saw before passing out.

The last time I saw so much blood was the last time I vaguely chopped open my finger, while making a meal for I and Phil. He had teased me, calling me a weakling and offered to kiss the bloody wound.

We relaxed eventually to enjoy the tasty taste of the delectable meal, all thanks to me and my mother, for her recipes.

The other time I could feel so much blood flow from my body could actually be the time I was reduced to a lesser being and woman. That time I was so scarred, making the scar unforgettable.

It was another Monday and here I was, trying to juggle everything, just before 9am. I woke up at 5am, while Phil was still fast asleep. He was a realtor and he could work from home, easy-peasey!

I did a little aerobics, just to make me feel ever young and vigour. For a lady in her 30's, I was so alive. Then came shower time and breakfast, now Phil was awake, as he assisted in making it a huge success.

After my "wet" encounter, I and Phil decided not to talk about it or even get sexually active for a while. I agreed my body still wasn't accustomed to the ethos of sex, making me bleed. Phil agreed as well, making the air above us turmoil-free.

I hastily took a bus to work, where I worked as a Civil Servant. I arrived at exactly 8:56am, just because of the log-jam of traffic, as a few tattered looking men rallied to and fro for rights and privileges no one could fully understand.

Work began almost immediately. I had files to type and move to various offices. Monday was no fun-day. There was also a meeting and I had to be there, nodding rather too much and filling note pads. That was all this work was about. It was pretty easy for a tough woman like me.

The day flew by and I was entirely grateful. There I was, going back home in a bus. There was the usual traffic, making me grab an energy bar-chocolate, almost thawed in my purse. I was vaguely hungry but sweating too much, the evening heat making me weak.

Phil had proffered I took his vehicle to work, since he worked from home more, but I always declined, right about now, I regretted my decision.

Two women, with two annoying toddlers, sitting behind me laughed and talking in a smattering language. The stereo was turned on to full volume, as the driver and a few passengers sang along to the catchy tune.

I was alone, with my thoughts and my thawed bar of chocolate, making me uneasy. The two women stopped talking suddenly, as a vox-pop programme, involving the public and the humorous interviewer. As if I had said a word, the driver turned the volume button a few times more, making the whole bus listen fervently.

The topic was obviously something to argue about, it was about the archaic law of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM). What a topic, I thought!

The two women behind me had two totally different opinions, making them a sparring-partner to one another. One of them argued it was a good thing, as it was the right way to tame a girl child. While the other stated firmly that it was an abomination to women and womanhood.

When they asked for my opinion, I smiled and said nothing, making one of the women roll her eyes at me.

Finally, I was home to Phil, who was already making dinner. I was smiling on one cheek and frowning on the other. My belly closed its gates for food, making me manage only a glass of icy water.

I retired to our bedroom and powered his computer, to do a little research. I suddenly felt young again. I never used the computer, except when I was at work or desperately needed to send a mail.

Google was where I needed to be right now and I searched for, The effects of female genital mutilation. Network was pretty steady and fast, making it on my side. I got too many websites as links, telling me everything I needed to know about this archaic and humiliating practice.

It didn't take too long before I began lying to Phil, telling him I had to run some extra errands at work, when I was actually meeting up with a fellow scarred friend of mine, Nina Peters.

You will get to know more about her in her personal struggling tale later, but I can divulge she's a kind human, with a heart of gold and a spirit of sheer likeness.

We created the greatest team ever, doing our ardent research about FGM, obviously finding a way to stop the wicked act. Nina had her own smart and deft ways and I had mine, making us an unbreakable and insurmountable team, together and forever.

I had put everything else on hold, just to find out so much more about myself and being. I had been scarred and been a victim of FGM, when my Mother practised the unlawful act on me.

It is common in Africa, Asian and Arabic nations and I was a victim, as an African woman. My mother was probably innocent and naive as at that time, but that didn't make the practice right.

There were four or five possible ways to scar a female, from the ages of 0-15, cutting off the vital part of their womanhood, causing physical, emotional, psychological and cultural effects. It would cause bleeding for a substantial period of time, painful, excruciating pains and distasteful feelings during sex and childbirth, making them feel less of a real woman.

I knew it would be too late to turn the hands of time and correct what has been done, but it was never too late to talk so much more about FGM and the possible ways to enlighten people against the practice.

Today, I'm still happily married to Phil, and we have two delightful children, Vintage and Sharon to call ours. I remember our wedding day, with Nina Peters by my side as my maid of honour. She looked just as illustrious as I did that day, being happy and exuberant with her new Man, that understands her from the tree top to the ground and back.

And the wedding night, it was something that could make me "wet", but for the right reason.

Two girl children and I never let myself or anyone else endanger their lives via FGM. I'm a great mother, greater wife and the greatest woman, possibly out there. Who are you and what side are you on?!