THREE MONTHS AGO
Three Months Ago
Maya breathed deeply, the rhythmic motion of her breath calming her as she prepared to dance. "Breathe in, breathe—"
"MAYA! What are you doing over there? Help me with this!"
Maya turned to see her mother, seated at the pottery wheel. Her hands were steady, shaping the clay with practiced movements, while fresh soil was placed at the center to begin its transformation.
"Yes?" Maya answered, walking toward her mother.
Her mother didn't look up, her voice sharp. "How many times do I have to tell you not to waste your time with that dance? These things won't help you. Now, give me that water pot."
Maya bit back a sigh but ignored her mother's words, as usual, moving toward the water pots near the garden. Her mother didn't understand that dance made her feel alive—something beyond the constant chores and responsibilities of the village.
"Which one? Weren't you supposed to fetch the water today?" Maya asked, picking up a pot.
Her mother looked up, brow furrowed. "Yes, but not right now. Later."
"But the water's almost finished," Maya countered. "I'll go fetch it."
Her mother paused, a momentary worry flashing across her face. "How much is left?"
"Only one pot," Maya said, glancing at the empty space. "Here, take it. I'll take Nia with me."
Nia had been Maya's best friend since childhood. Fetching water was a chore, but it became bearable when they did it together. Walking with three heavy pots on your head and hands for miles without conversation was exhausting, but with Nia by her side, Maya knew it would be more joyful.
Her mother didn't protest, but there was a glint of concern in her eyes. "Be back soon," she said, her voice laced with caution. "Your father and brother will be home soon. And don't wander too far. It's dangerous out there for women, especially alone."
Maya nodded, the weight of her mother's words settling on her. The well was two or three kilometres away, situated near the edge of the forest. Every day, the women of the village went in groups to fetch water from it, but today, Maya would go alone with Nia.
As Maya set off, her mind wandered back to the stories of danger and loss. The memory of Nia's mother—the woman who had been killed by wild animals twenty years ago—was still fresh in everyone's mind. It was not just the violent death that had shaken the village, but the horror of what had happened before her death: she had been raped by the beasts that attacked her.
It was that tragic incident that had turned the village upside down. Women no longer ventured out without protection. Maya could understand the weight of that loss because, though Nia and she were only two years apart, Nia had felt the loss of her mother deeply.
Maya couldn't imagine losing her own mother. Despite the taunts and the constant teasing, Maya knew her mother loved her in her own way. She only wanted the best for her—she just didn't understand why dance was so important to Maya. But in her heart, Maya believed that dance was the key to her freedom, to a life that wasn't confined to these walls and pots.