Stalin appears and leans against the doorframe. “You have your work cut out with this Bedu. Look at her chicken legs—and she's not even circumcised!”
Deqo cups her hands around her privates; it had felt natural being bathed by Nasra, as if she was an older sister or mother, but the way Stalin looks at her makes her shrink. The woman's eyes pick her apart and seem to say, “Look at you, no one loved you enough to even circumcise you; you're wild and dirty.”
“You don't have anywhere better to be, Stalin?” Nasra says dismissively.
“Not now, no. I've got a knife if you want me to cut it off, hey Deqo?”
Deqo edges away from her, her legs pressed tightly together.
“You think you looked any better when you arrived? You were followed by fleas wherever you went. Get out of here!” Nasra scatters water at her.
“If you're not careful, I will sell her from under your nose,” Stalin retorts before retreating.
“What did she mean by that?” Deqo asks, her eyes to the ground.
“Nothing, she's just a fool and jealous that you're better looking than her.” She cups Deqo's face and squeezes her cheeks playfully. “Don't let her bother you. I am your protector now and no one gets the better of me.”