Amina stood at the edge of the savannah, the heat of the sun pressing down on her skin as a swirl of golden dust danced in the wind. The vast expanse of the land seemed endless, stretching beyond the horizon, and yet here she was—small, insignificant in the grand sweep of nature, bound by the limitations of her village and her gender. In Ndomo, girls like her were expected to marry, start families, and live a life that had already been scripted for them before they were born. But Amina was different. She didn't want to marry a man she barely knew. She didn't want to be confined to the life of a wife and mother. Instead, she dreamed of something far bigger, far grander than anything Ndomo could offer—a future in the city, perhaps even as a doctor, bringing modern medicine to heal those who suffered from illnesses that traditional healers like her mother could not cure.
The village elders often scolded her, saying, "Your place is here, in the home, helping your mother with the herbs. Dreams of a world beyond the savannah are meant for men, not girls like you." But Amina was determined. At night, when the rest of the village was asleep, she would slip away from the comfort of her family's hut and sneak into the fields with her small, tattered notebook. Under the soft glow of the stars, she would read the books that her teacher had given her—books that spoke of science, medicine, and wonders of the world far beyond Ndomo's borders. Her dreams were not just figments of her imagination, but the blueprint of her destiny. She had to get out of here.
But then, the illness came.
At first, it was small—one or two cases of fever and weakness. It didn't seem like anything alarming. However, within days, it spread like wildfire, leaving whole families paralyzed with fear. People started coughing up blood. Their skin turned pale and cracked. The elders called it a curse, but Amina, in her heart of hearts, knew it was something far more sinister. It was as if the earth itself was sick, as though the land was rejecting its people.
Her brother, Kofi, was the first to fall ill in their family. The fever came on quickly, and before Amina could even try to help him, he was lying unconscious, his breathing shallow. Their mother, Mama Zuri, did her best with the herbs and potions she had learned over the years, but it wasn't enough. Amina's heart clenched as she realized that if something didn't change, if she didn't do something, her brother—her only sibling—might not make it through the night.