After days of starvation and taking fifteen lashes, I couldn’t hold on any longer and passed out.
Three days ago, I went out with my best friend, Viola Louis.
Someone behind us tripped and, in their panic, accidentally pulled off my veil.
Viola tried to help me, but her veil slipped off too. It all happened so fast.
And just like that, Viola and I were unmasked in front of everyone.
My first thought? We’re doomed.
The second? Panic. I looked at Viola, desperate and frantic.
“Viola, under no circumstances can we admit we messed up, got it?” I said.
In this country, the law is clear: from the time she’s three years old, a woman’s face is only for her family and husband to see. If any other man catches a glimpse, she’s deemed impure and can be drowned in the spit of the crowd.
This barbaric custom has been around for over two centuries, taking countless women’s lives. Even women in their forties or fifties have been killed simply because a man saw their face.
When this happens, a woman has two possible fates.