“Let it come through you,” Luam heard the Sage Adala repeating this chant in her singsong way, over an over in her brain. She felt as if Adala was walking by her side as the sun faded in the distance. Adala always said, “everything worth saying should be sung,” so often her advice came to Luam in lyrics remembered or remixed into song or Hip-hop verses. Luam laughed to herself in joy at the ringing in her head, but halted mid-jump as her womb became aflame. Her womb was on fire, but it was not burning, rather she felt the glowing red spreading from her. She got excited, she was waiting for this day forever. She bowed her head in pray, so moved by the much-anticipated gift she was about to receive. Her ancestors were calling, “its time her spirit” seemed to shout. Her tribe had a long tradition that her body was about to engage in. The elders had talked about this change and she was special. Adala had sat her down a long time ago to explain what she was to do. Glancing at her hand when she felt the tingling sensation, they were shimmering faintly like glitter had been sprayed upon them. Her body was echoing this joy with more sensations of tingling. It was happening, the ripples through her hand and womb were contagious and the sensations were catching. Her heart was beating faster and more voices were faint in the distance, giving her instructions, just like Adala had said they would come. With each beat, there was an echo, “breath breathe,” beat, “breath breathe.” The ancestors’ voices came to her memory breaking through the fast drum of her heart. “Let it come through you.” Her back began to tingle now, as if her back would open a door, a portal. Luam knew what new parts on her body she wanted to grow. She had begun thinking and dreaming about this day since her tribal secrets had been passed to her. She had even planned her outfit that was sitting in her closet in her home. She glanced down at her skinny jeans, white t-shirt, and converses shoes, not what she had wanted to be wearing on this special day. She had dreamed about this day, her shift day, forever, and wanted it to be perfect. It’s as if her Great Grand Auntie and Sage Adala heard her thoughts and her laugh echoed as she continued to sing in her head. Her shift day was unpredictable and crucial. Hers was going to transform generations to come and so her choices of limbs, legs, eyes, mouth, and every other part of her body was important. What would she shift? Why? Where? She didn’t think it would come this early, she was only 13 and it usually came around 16. “You are special” she remembers her Adala whispering to her often.
She lifted her head to let go and shift and joy. She threw her hands in the air in amazement and just as she had been told, generations of stories and song filtered into her being as if a memory chip had been placed inside her. She just knew like the elephants know. Flashes of her mother and grandmother and her mother and her mother’s mother came pouring into and integrated into her knowing. Luam had to sing, her lungs were waiting. “Let it come…” and she swallowed and stopped. The last note was draw out in a long moan of longing and grief, but the last word was forgotten. As she had tilted her head, she froze and her whole body clinched just as she was throwing her hands back. All around her people had stopped their closing market duties and their shadows could be seen in the fading light of the sun. She felt the smells in her skin as if her sense of smell was her whole body. Gasoline, spoiling fruit, and the day’s garbage were hitting the surface of her skin. In her mind, she could vaguely smell the scent that reminded her of freshness and newborn babies. Her body wanted to lean towards shifting and the softness of babies and birth. But the people were staring. She quickly stuffed her hands in her pockets and hid them from view. “Come forth” the ancestors were more urgent now in their call and sensed her fear, “don’t hide.” The people are staring, she wanted to shout. She wanted to shout that they didn’t understand. These people have always judged her, she didn’t want them to laugh or think she was strange. What would they see? What would they say? They always teased her about her hair, eyes, and whole body, what would they say during the shift? Would they hurt her? Had they seen her hands? She dipped her hands deeper into her jacket. “Let them see, Let them know, Let them see, Let them know” Her back hurt now as she began pushing it all to stop. I can’t, they can’t see. They can’t see me, they don’t deserve me. She could still feel the tingling in her hands and the joyful sensation, but her face was turning red and her back was not filled with joy, only aches as if the closing was causing pain. They were all staring and time seemed to freeze, how long had she been standing there. Words and songs kept pressing against her looking for a release and she fell down in pain. Help her mind screamed, but all the people kept staring and the voices were getting louder. Before she fainted, she saw her best friend in the distance, her secret love, she said “Adja” before everything faded to black tumbling her back into her dreams. Back into her birth and she could feel the pressure on her head as if she was remembering her first shift through her mother and into this strange land of strangers.
