NO PADS, ONLY PERIOD

Yaksun sat still, unsure how to cope for the next four days. Her period had just started and as usual, there was no money to buy sanitary pads.

She looked around their tiny room to see if she could get the pieces of clothes she used. Her grandma always kept them safe for her.

Her dear grandma was all she had. Her parents died in a car accident when she was four. She had been with them but managed to survive by a miracle.

Grandma had taken care of her since. She was old but did her best for Yaksun. She had sent Yaksun to the local primary school with the vegetables she farmed and sold on the streets of Kantwa village in Plateau state. But the harvest had not been good this year, so they could barely feed.

Yaksun, now 13, was having her period flow consistently. She used pieces of cloth or paper when it started. That was all she could do. They could never really afford a sanitary pad for 800 naira every month.

She was always soaked. How much blood could a piece of cloth hold? She wasn't sure how she survived the painful cramps and the discomfort of using rags.

During her period, school was off-limits. She had to stay home and wash her napkins when they got soaked. She had five of them, and they could only stay 2 hours at most before her clothes got stained.

She had to wash, spread, wait for the pieces to dry, and repeat. She did this four days each month.

Always in tears, she wished she had never seen her period. Her friends didn't fare better either. They only used pads if their parents could afford them that month.

Menstrual poverty was the norm in Kantwa community. This was caused by economic poverty and low knowledge of menstrual hygiene among women and girls.

This continued until Yaksun got to her final year in secondary school. She was intelligent and intended to make good grades. So she studied hard because wanted to become a Nurse.

As is the Nigerian system, she must make at least 5 credits including Maths and English Language, to gain admission to the university. An excited Yaksun couldn't wait to start and complete her WAEC.

When the timetable came out, she didn't know that her period would start on the day she had a core subject - the English language.

She had written other subjects confidently and was sure she would make good grades.

Alas, the time came. She had studied overnight and prepared her uniform. She slept that night with much discomfort but didn't give it too much thought. It was her last paper so she was excited.

She woke up soaked, and tears flowed from her eyes.—both from the pain and the uncertainty of how she would cope in soaked rags while writing an exam.

She became nervous. Her grandma encouraged her and made new pieces of rags from her wrapper. She begged Yaksun to not give up, that she could always take permission to clean up.

But the poor girl was already suffering from severe cramps. She was screaming, and holding her tummy. Her friends came to call her so they could go to school together but were sad to see their friend rolling on the floor.

They had to leave as they were running late. Yaksun cried, feeling helpless. She had no pad, only blood and pain.

She missed her English papers in WAEC. Although she had written other subjects so well she knew she had to resit her papers again the following year. She could not go to the university as she had hoped.

When the results came out, she made 4As and 4Bs. Only English stared at her - ABS.

She cried to her friends 'Why on the day of my period? Why did my period not wait until I finished writing my English exams?

Her friends had made their grades as well. At least Maths and English Language. They were glad because making your O'level at one sitting in Nigeria was a blessing.

Soon, they will start preparing for JAMB classes, and by next year, they hope to be in the University. But not Yaksun. She had to rewrite one paper she could have passed but for nature.

She remembered the costs of WAEC registration. How is she supposed to raise that money? Why should her period have to stop her from writing her final exams?

Thoughts and questions ran through her mind. At that moment, she muttered, 'I wish I was a boy'.

A young girl whose monthly cycle was supposed to be a blessing felt like a curse.

It ought not to be so.