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The flies that buzzed around the mango seeds that were carelessly thrown on the ground disturbed the children that were playing under the tree. The sight of the littered surrounding alone, could make a person throw up. Stagnant water was all over the place, providing a suitable environment for mosquitoes to breed. But being the children that they were, they chose to have fun in the dirt. They played hide and seek and ran around, splashing water on the little girl that was sitting on the doorstep of their house. The girl quietly stood up, got a small quantity of water on a rag, and cleaned her dress. She returned but instead of sitting on her spot on the last doorstep, she sat on the first doorstep. As much as she wanted to join the play, she couldn't. Why? Because she was fragile. She was only six. But she was made to understand that she was different from the other kids. That she needed to be careful when she was around children so she doesn't get bruised. She could easily break her bones. She wasn't very healthy. That if she wanted to be at home and not in the hospital all the time, she should stay indoors and if she had to go outside, then she should watch the other kids from a distance. She understood all these things at her age. She understood she was a sickler.

The drizzles of rain that began to drop on her face made her stand on her feet. She turned around and held the door knob. She turned the knob with the little strength in her but she couldn't open it. She was not allowed in the rain. Never.
She made a fist of her fragile hands and knocked on the door continuously.

"Ammie open the door. It's raining" Came her tiny voice.

Ammie was lying on the floor. She didn't know when she fell asleep. And as if in her dream, she heard her little princess's voice, telling her to open the door. She quickly jerked up and ran to the door. She opened it and Arafah was standing before her. She had began to shiver from cold. She picked her up and ran to the room. She undressed her and quickly changed her clothes. She covered her completely so she could feel warm.
Arafah looked next to her and spotted her brother sleeping. He was sick and Ammie took him to the hospital earlier that morning. He was just like her. Ill and fragile.

"Salim is still sleeping" Arafah said and Ammie nodded.

"Did they give him injection at the hospital?" She asked again.

"He was dripped" Ammie replied her. She watched as Arafah moved closer to her brother and felt his temperature. Maybe it wasn't hot. Ammie thought as Arafah lay next to him.

"I don't like those drips" Arafah said sadly and Ammie moved closer to her. She carressed her face and smiled.

"You won't have them again in shaa Allah" Ammie said. Arafah only looked away. She knew her mother was wrong. She would always have a drip anytime she went to the hospital. Yes. At six, Arafah knew what a drip was. If only she could get used to them, then she would have done that by now. She had had drips uncountable times since she was born.
Seeing Arafah look away, Ammie smiled sadly. It was one lie she could not stop telling Arafah. But she had to, to calm her down.

"Sleep dear. Let me go and look for your brothers" She said and Arafah nodded.

Ammie picked up her veil and her big umbrella. The rain had stopped but it was still drizzling. She wrapped her veil and stepped out. Her five older children were out for hawking. She knew they had taken shelter since the rain started so she needed to get them home before any one of them falls ill.
Being a mother of seven unhealthy children, Ammie had accepted her fate. At first, she was worried when she had her first two kids and they were always in the hospital because of their health. Then, she would sit down and cry out her heart in front of her children. Her husband would console her and she would feel better. He would pay the hospital bill and they would go home. They had their third baby, hoping he would be different from the first two. But he was just like them. Her husband became less caring and he began to rant here and there saying he was tired of spending money on her ill children.

'I didn't put them in this situation. You think it doesn't hurt me too?' She had told him that day.

'Neither did I. Nobody has this kind of illness in my family. You better find out where they're getting it from' He had fumed and stormed out of the house.
She had cried herself to sleep that night. It was a devastating and terrible feeling.
The fourth baby came and he too was like his brothers. Her husband became worse. He stopped paying the hospital bills and when she talked to him, he said:

'I'm tired. Your children will not be the cause of my poverty'

'What do you mean? You're saying my children as if I gave birth to them alone' She had fumed.

'Save yourself some breath. Ni aure ma zan kara (I'm bringing in a new wife)'

And that was what he did. He believed the problem was from her. She wasn't educated, but she got to know that her children had sickle cell anemia. And she understood that their father had contributed to the situation as much as she did. So she accepted her fate. She didn't stop giving birth with the hope that one day, she would give birth to a healthy child. So she had her fifth boy, and then the sixth boy. They were all the same. Six boys and they were all sicklers. Then Arafah came. The seventh baby, and a girl. And when she found out that she was like her brothers, she decided to stop and take care of the ones she already had. Maybe she was never going to have any healthy children. So she gave up.
Being the only girl, she loved Arafah dearly. And unfortunately, Arafah was the most fragile of all.

Ammie stopped being scared and worried and embraced her fate and responsibilities wholeheartedly. Their father only beared the name but in action, she was their father and mother. Only a mother could understand the pain of her children so only she, could take care of them. She trained herself to do so.























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