The two-story marketplace in Karen, just outside of Nairobi, Kenya, had a single bathroom. My family was visiting the beautiful country in June of 2018, following my graduation from Bishop Manogue Catholic High School in Reno, Nevada.
After an idyllic morning spent visiting giraffes and baby elephants, I had to go. My thighs, damp from the humidity, relaxed onto the wooden toilet seat.
I looked down at a red blot in my underwear and nearly cried out. My stomach fluttered with joy and relief. I exhaled deeply. “Finally,” I thought. “I am healthy again.” … I had originally gotten my period at 13 when I was in eighth grade.
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