It was a sunny day, but the thick vegetation of the forest offered a welcome shade as Neneh Dado ventured deeper into the thicket to fetch firewood. The path from Jeshwang to Serrekunda was lined with towering fruit trees — jackfruit, mango, and baobab — whose large branches reached out in every direction, almost forming a canopy over her head. Despite the heat of the day, the foliage kept the temperature cool, and the breeze whispered through the leaves, providing brief moments of relief as she walked.
Neneh’s mind was light, distracted by thoughts of nothing in particular. Her home life had been unusually smooth of late, with Yerro, her husband, finally seeming to be fully under her control. He adored her, and for a woman like Neneh, this was everything. Her status as the second wife was a double-edged sword; though it meant she had less of her husband’s time, it also allowed her to strategically maintain her hold over him. Yerro had never loved Borogie in the same way, and Neneh reveled in the fact that she, despite her barrenness, had secured his favor.
“I am enough,” she often told herself. “I am the second and last wife. I will never share him again. There is no one else for him.”
The garden she and Mbentoung had cultivated together had made life easier. They no longer worried about food or clothing; their combined efforts had begun to pay off, and the hard work was yielding rewards. No longer did Neneh go to bed hungry, giving the best portions of food to Yerro in the hopes of keeping him satisfied. Now, she had enough for herself—and more to share.
As much as she reveled in her newfound status, Neneh’s insecurities remained. She had come to believe that pleasing her husband was her sole purpose, her only identity. Yerro’s approval was everything, and as long as she kept him satisfied, she had nothing to fear.
With these thoughts in mind, she walked further into the forest, her cutlass in hand, as she looked for branches to cut for the evening’s fire. She could see a cluster of branches ahead, the perfect kind for kindling. The work was repetitive, but it gave her peace, as it always did — just the simple, solitary task of preparing for the household. As she chopped away at the underbrush, she thought about her place in the world, her position in the family, and how she had worked so hard to carve out this small domain where she was loved and protected by Yerro.
The sound of footsteps broke her from her thoughts. At first, it was distant, almost imperceptible, but soon it grew louder. Her heart skipped a beat. She turned around but saw no one in the dense foliage behind her. She brushed it off, assuming it was an animal or the wind. But the sensation of being watched lingered in the pit of her stomach, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.
Neneh gathered all the branches she could on her head and started walking back home, her mind still clouded with thoughts of her family and the day’s tasks. But then, in a flash, everything changed.
A sharp tug at her wrapper — her only garment — sent a jolt of fear through her body. Before she could react, she was shoved from behind. The firewood she had gathered scattered across the ground, and she tumbled, gasping for breath as she tried to steady herself. The heavy load of branches made her unbalanced, and she fell face-first into the dirt.
Her heart raced as she saw footsteps approaching her face, heavy and deliberate. She screamed, but before the sound could escape her mouth, a rough hand clamped over her face, muffling her cries. Neneh struggled against the force that held her down, but she was weak from the sudden shock. Her mind raced — who was this man? Why was he attacking her?
She tried to scream again, but he slapped his hand over her mouth harder, threatening her with his other hand. “If you scream again,” he hissed, his voice low and menacing, “I’ll slit your throat.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she fought to free herself, but her body was frozen with terror. She could see nothing — just the blur of trees and the dirty ground beneath her. The man kicked her, sending her sprawling into the dirt once more.
“Please, please, don’t do this,” Neneh begged, her voice quivering. “Take whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.”
The man, his breath ragged and wild, pulled out a knife from his belt. “The only thing I want from you,” he said, his voice dripping with venom, “is for you to open your legs for me. Or else, you’ll die right here.”
Neneh’s body went cold with fear. She felt the knife press against her skin, the sharp edge of it threatening her. Her instinct took over, and she curled her legs tightly together, turning her body to shield herself. “No! No!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation. “Please! Please don’t touch me!”
The man stood over her, his breath quick and harsh. “You think you can refuse me?” he spat. “You’re just another woman. A barren woman. You have no say.”
Tears flowed freely down her face as she whimpered, helpless and small beneath the man’s towering figure. She had never felt so powerless, so utterly vulnerable. It wasn’t just the fear of being harmed — it was the humiliation, the violation that threatened to destroy her very sense of self.
But just as the man moved forward, something happened. There was a loud thud, a sharp sound that rang through the air, and the man staggered back. Neneh’s vision blurred, and she felt a rush of relief — someone had intervened. She turned to see Modou Pulo, a local woodcutter who had often helped her in the past, standing behind the man. He was holding a large branch, and with one swift motion, he had struck the man on the head, knocking him off balance.
“Leave her alone!” Modou shouted, his voice filled with authority. The man, dazed from the blow, stumbled backward and hissed in pain, clutching his head. Modou stepped forward, brandishing the branch like a weapon, his eyes blazing with anger.
“Get out of here,” he growled, “or I’ll make sure you never see the light of day ever again.”
The man, realizing he was no match for Modou, turned and fled into the trees, disappearing into the underbrush. Neneh lay on the ground, her chest heaving, her body trembling from the shock. She gasped for breath, unable to speak, unable to move.
Modou knelt beside her, gave her back her wrapper to wrap up her naked body, before gently looking away. “You’re safe now,” he said, his voice softer, filled with concern. “It’s over.”
But Neneh couldn’t stop crying. She had narrowly escaped a fate she never imagined. Her body shook with fear, her mind still processing the horror of what had just happened.
“Thank you, Modou,” she whispered through her tears. “Thank you for saving me.”
Modou nodded, his face hard with the weight of what he had just witnessed. “I’m just glad I was here,” he said, helping her to her feet. “We need to get you home. You’re not alone, Neneh. Don’t ever think you are.”
Neneh leaned on him as they walked back through the forest, her body still trembling, but her spirit slowly beginning to return. Modou didn’t say anything more; his presence was enough to offer her comfort in her time of distress. The walk back to Jeswang seemed to take forever, but with each step, Neneh’s heart began to heal, piece by piece.
When they finally arrived back at Jeshwang, Neneh collapsed into the safety of her home, overwhelmed by the events of the day. She couldn’t shake the fear that gripped her heart, but in the back of her mind, she knew that it wasn’t just the physical assault she had to overcome. It was the emotional toll — the sense of powerlessness — that threatened to haunt her for much longer.
In the days that followed, Neneh struggled to regain her composure. She couldn’t share the details of what had happened with anyone — not even Yerro. The shame of it all was too much to bear. Instead, she kept her thoughts to herself, burying the memories deep inside. But one thing was certain — nothing would ever be the same for her again. She had faced the worst of her fears and survived, but the scars, both physical and emotional, would remain.
As she lay in bed that night, unable to sleep, Neneh realized something important: no matter how much she tried to control her world, there were forces beyond her grasp. In that moment, she vowed to never again allow herself to be so vulnerable. The road to healing would be long, but Neneh knew one thing for sure — she would never let anyone take her power away again.
To be continued.
