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Women always talk about the strength a sisterhood has but I have always wondered how true this is. I’ve never really been a person involved in big groups of friends; I always had one friend, they would always become my best and close friend until unforeseen circumstances changed that and then I would be forced to find another good friend.

My cycle of friend hopping changed when I went to university and I met a friend who had a friend who had a friend who eventually became my friend, in the end a huge network of friends was woven and when we met our res rooms would be filled with young women literally on top of each other enjoying each other’s company. I had never felt such a strong bond with so many women- we would wait for each other before we ate, we had our own table, on Sundays we would go to church together and discuss the sermon afterwards and we even developed our own secret language.

I always wondered how far my friends would go for me, I always wondered if what we kindled was a true friendship or a hobby to pass by the time. We shared our secrets, what hurt us most and what our real problems were; for such a huge group our secrets amazingly stayed well within the web. We would buy food, tampons or medicationsfor each other. We knew who had asthma, who was allergic to what, and who had never used a tampon before. We had immense knowledge of each other and our love had no bounds.

One day my friends and I were talking about private parts; which looked better between the vagina and the penis, and of course the vagina won. My one friend recalled a funny incident were her friend had called her in a frantic state asking her to come over to her house. When my friend got there her friend asked her to look at her vagina, my friend was shocked and asked why, her friend replied said that it looked weird that some hanging bits weren’t supposed to be there. My friend being the good sister she was inspected it and assured her friend it was in a normal state. I laughed when I heard the story but then I realised I really did not know what my vagina looked like, not shaving made my problem worse and I really did not know how my vagina looked like.

I felt a sense of loss, not knowing the most intimate part of me was sad and suddenly I understood what my friend’s friend must have felt like. I looked at my friend in a different light from there on, she was truly a good friend, and she went into uncharted territory not out of curiosity but out of kindness and care for her friend who was really worried. I mean how many friends would inspect your vagina for you?

Image from goodmorningandgoodnight.com

I looked at my friends in a different light from there on. There were with me when I could no longer go on with my studies, they supported me when my faith was at its thinnest, they prayed for me and asked for God’s favour to fall upon my life. They are still with me in my heart and of course on Facebook; our bond surpasses all kinds of matter. It turns out it was a true friendship I was kindling and still kindling, it wasn’t something to pass the time, it was something to contain time. I discovered true sisterhoods do exist- I am reminded of this every time I look at my vagina.

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