In the small village of Nyaru, where the red dust sticks to bare feet and the voice of the elders travels with the wind, Amara was born into a life already predetermined.
In Nyaru, boys are raised to lead, speak, and learn, while girls are raised to serve, listen, and endure.
The message was never delivered with any level of cruelty or force. It was apparent in everything done in Nyaru at every age level.
From the time Amara could understand the things around her, she sees and observes her mother wake before sunrise to put her wrapper on before the long day of work starts. By the time the first light of the sun begins to grace the horizon, Amara has already filled her pot with water and is balancing the pot on her head as if she were born to this task.
But her mind…her mind is never fixed on this task.
Each morning her younger brother, Kato, runs past her while laughing and his school bag bouncing behind him…
"Don't be late!" their mother would say
"I won't!" he replies, already halfway down the path.
Amara would pause for just one moment while she watches contently as Kato runs further from the home.
The path has something on it.
Something pulls at Amara.
But she never followed it.
I woke up one morning, and my curiosity took over my ability to obey.
I followed Kato, wiping my hands on my dress and walking quietly behind him. My heart was racing as if I had done something wrong; I had done something wrong.
When I arrived at the school, I stopped in my tracks.
The school was small, cracked walls and sagging roofs due to many years of exposure to the elements.
But to me, it was beautiful.
There were children's voices floated out of the windows, and the teacher was speaking to them; the teacher was stern but kind.
"Education is the light that helps you find out who you are and what you will become."
I hid behind a tree and held my breath, hoping that none of the wind would blow away my hiding place.
I stayed there and listened for hours.
I learned without anyone knowing.
That day was the beginning of everything.