The Cannibalistic Clan Club aka CCC

Caraweelo, both fists raised in defiance, body contorted in mockery and eyes wide open with belligerence, burst into this world with a single, loud, blood-curling scream. Her kin, upon seeing the jewel between her legs, drew back with disgust and disappointment, all the while murmuring verses of protection.

A few old men, scared out of their wits and way past their due date, lay comatose on the scorching ground, recovering from the chilling scream. God help their kin from this abomination, this vile curse. What a waste of space, of humanity. She was and would never be of use to their kin. Surely, the drought and this creature were Satan’s antics, his offspring. Caraweelo, who could read their minds, spread her legs wide, reached for her jewel and rained on the land. She knew she had a long journey ahead of her, a destiny to fulfill. She looked into the tired eyes of her mother, laughed and reached for sustenance.

Caraweelo was blessed with the gift of insight, reflection and observation. She watched quietly, hidden in the safe zone in her mind. Women, in colorful robes, flirted back and forth, selling their dreams. Their men, fat and belching, the leeches, sat on mats chatting and chilling. They were discussing important matters, Caraweelo was told, and should not be disturbed. But Caraweelo knew better. She chewed her lips, drawing blood. She shuddered with resentment. They were fools in skirts, cowards who never ventured into war. Instead, they sat, plotted and planned the down-fall of an unseen rival. After dark, they would jump on their bone-weary wives and gallop into the sunset, alone.

When Caraweelo was six, her grandfather came for her one dark night and took her worth away. As she lay, bleeding and petrified, he proved why blood was thicker than water. You see, charity starts at home. Yes, it is true that nobody has the power to hurt you as your kin. It did not matter that she was still in stitches, recovering from mutilation, in strict observation of culture and tradition. She was their rubbish bin, their semen cup. That was all she was good for and would ever be good for. Caraweelo’s mother told her to bite her tongue, to sit on her lips and to conform. A good girl should not be seen, should not be heard and should aim to please. Hush child. This is your destiny, your role in life. Caraweelo disagreed silently. Her day would come one day.

When Caraweelo was thirteen, her grandfather gave her to his close friend…his distant cousin. He had trained her well and knew that she would bring prestige to her family. She watched from afar as the two old men sat, whispering and giving her furtive glances. Her 50-something year old husband looked at her, smacking his wrinkled lips. With the exchange of one camel and two cows, Caraweelo moved into the camp of her kin, her grandfather. That night, Caraweelo tasted bondage, tasted fear and blood. She had flashbacks of her violent initiation, her rape, into her kin…her clan. Her 13-year old body curled into itself, begging for mercy. He was oblivion to her cries, heaving and gasping. Shush. You’re a woman amidst millions of other women with similar faiths and destinies. You’re nothing. You don’t count. You don’t belong to any clan. Caraweelo bit down, swallowing her screams, cursing and vehemently disagreeing.

Caraweelo’s husband came into some wealth and moved her to Mogadishu. She was a young mother and still proud. She was still standing…..still strong. War broke out and they had to flee their beloved country. Finland was open, welcoming….or so she thought. Her old husband found the new country tough and turned to bitterness.

As he grew old, diminishing, Caraweelo grew into a beautiful black swan. She learned the new language, the new culture and embraced the new world she’d stepped into. Hush woman. Stick to your four walls and raise your children. Enough of your madness. Shut up, Caraweelo yells. You don’t own me anymore. Shush woman. You’ll go to hell for disobeying God. Shut up, she yells back. Since when did you abide by God’s rules? Hush infidel. Her husband – a serial wife beating rapist – became a sheikh during the day. When religious blackmail failed, her husband resorted to karate chops and kicks. When the next karate chop came, her husband suddenly found himself on the floor of their flat, overpowered by emancipation and enlightenment.

Caraweelo’s kin, her clan came to reconcile the two. This was the day she had lived for all her life. They came, all men. Of course they were all men. The cannibalistic clan is an exclusive club for goat-fuckers, father-fuckers, mother-fuckers and daughter-fuckers. Caraweelo let it rip. She let the shit hit the fan. Hush woman. Blood is thicker than blood. You’re mistreating your grandfather….your next kin of blood. He has sole ownership over your body. Shut up, Caraweelo yells. Where were you when my kin was ripping me apart? Raping my innocence? Shush woman. He has rights over you, rights over your children. Please, she says and rolls her eyes. I am married to the Finnish government. It pays my bills, puts a warm roof over my head, educates my children and takes care of my worries. Hush woman. Your kin, your clan are your blood and marrow. Please, she yells back. I was born into wilderness. I never belonged. I was never counted for.