After our weekend class, I noticed that Fatima's countenance had changed when she was about to go home.

I watched her for a while and noticed how her  restlessness worsened as she placed her books into her backpack.

"What is wrong, dear? You seem to be  uncomfortable about something." I stared at her with such warmth that could melt even the overall best secret service agent to spill it all out.

I realized that some kids feel safe and tend to open up to this gesture (well you can prove me wrong if the reverse is the case).

She took a deep breath that felt like she had just laid down a huge load off her chest.

"Auntie," she avoided my eyes as began to say,   "yesterday my dad called me and my twin to the dining as usual. At first, I had thought it was going to be our usual game time.
It was disappointing when the topic didn't match my expectations.
It went worse when dad started talking about puberty." She finally meets my eye, “Auntie, should my dad be the one educating us about puberty?" She inquired with such pure naivety and without hesitation, she continued her narration.
"...and about the vagina, it's an elastic, muscular canal with soft..." At this point, she cringed, slapping her face in shame. "That moment was so embarrassing and kept me at unease till now. I couldn't even look at his face this morning when I greeted him."

I softly asked, "How did your twin take it?"

She shrugged, "She was clearly intrigued by the exposition. But my father who is sensitive to my emotions observed my uneasiness and took a break by stopping his flow of words to smile which formed awkwardly on his lips making me come to the realization that I wasn't the only one finding this education uncomfortable."

She sighed shaking her head as if to shake off the memory. 

"Do you know that dad had to even mention the V word and how elastic it can be..." It seemed she had gained my trust not only as her teacher but a confidante for the words came spilling, “about menstruation and menstrual hygiene. He said if we don't take extra care of our bodies during this period, we are sure to smell like the ice fish Mama Taale sells," she ended this with laughter and I sure kept her company in it.

The humor subsiding, her face returned troubled 
"Auntie, that's the reason I'm not happy that I'm returning home, as that uneasy feeling is still there." 
Finally zipping her bag, she hung it on her back and sat still to ask,

"Do you think fathers should be the ones educating us about this?" She gave me the inquisitive look that signified an invitation to talk.

What's your opinion?

Could you kindly share too, please?

PS: I shared this in another platform some time but but the response wasn't satisfactory. So please let's do best here. Thank you.

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