I love the soft hum that accompanies the inner workings of household appliances. It is calming. I sit here listening to the drone of my refrigerator as I pen this words down.

• WATER: Water has memory. It never forgets. Water has been from the very dawn of time, so who better than Water to record the stories of the ages past. Water holds the narrative of the long line of women, bodies smooth and supple, on the way to the stream 5 kilometers away from the village even before the first rays of light peak over the horizon. Its silent trickle in the heart of the dry season bears witness to the salient resilience of those who birthed the greats, raised them and supported them all under the suspicion that they were somehow witches to be feared. Its resounding roar when the banks are swollen and overflowing is testament to the crazy courage and fierce love of women who picked up arms to defend their homes without thought.

• EARTH: The Earth as we know her now is not the Earth of a thousand years ago. The Earth has morphed and been moulded by the harsh reality of her surroundings. Breaking, shifting and churning are a regular part of her life, but her will is not bent nor her spirit broken. Through every split, crack and eruption she emerges beautiful, breathtaking and brilliantly glorious. The Earth, this earth has partaken in the blood of those whose soles cracked as they trudged to distant farmlands to ensure their children could have an education they couldn't take credit for. It has drank the salty tears of those who kept going just to open doors to their offspring that they would never have dared knock on. It has silently watched as tripods were mounted and cooking fires flickered and danced in the ultimate test of a woman's worthiness apart from her 'fertility.' The Earth sings a dirge for the bent backs of those whose hopes have been crushed.

• LIGHT: Dappled patterns are formed when sunlight streams through the gently swaying leaves of a tree. Light bears witness to all and so captures the very essence of being. To properly understand and appreciate light we must experience its absence —Darkness; the haunting fear that holds us down. Light and Dark— opposites yet often dwelling in the same location. As bad as darkness seems to be, it sometimes takes seeing our shadow to remind us that we are alive. Light shines and exposes the things that would prefer to hide out. In the dark lives our rage, shame, faults and fears enabled by our continuous deference to them in refusing to flush them out. We have loved the dark for so long because it gives us an illusion of control, leading us to think that by hiding our hurt we are somehow stronger and not just harder. We choose the dark, gradually wrapping its lies around us one strand at a time until we are so trapped in an intricate web that it would take divine intervention to untangle us. We forget that 'it's brokenness that lets the light in'. Light washes out the pain and angst. It illuminates the turmoil within; the abuse, the suppression, the ignorance that makes us feel dumb and worthless. Light gives voice to our struggle. It never stays put, it spreads like a flickering flame lending a hand to others to catch the flame. Light witnesses all and knows even what we hide from the dark.

• AIR: From where does the wind come? To where does it go? There is a faint melody in the evening breeze as it passes by and tussles a lady's hair pulling strands out of her bun. It is a call—to freedom. The wind is playful but not to be trifled with. It is a soothing caress and the fiercest gale. It faces no restrictions and charts its own course. The wind sings a song to remind women that they are free from the expectations that seem to abound in society. It tells the story of Oprah Winfrey and Amelia Earhart, Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth, that there are no barriers to our dreams and we can fight for what we believe in. It whispers 'If you dream it, you can achieve it.' We can do it. The wind sings and when it leaves we are left with the memory of a song so beautiful it was a prayer for those who hadn't heard the call.

• WORD: The beginning of all things. Word; the smallest unit of language that can be expressed by itself. Words tell our story. Over the years, words have come to mean something different from what was originally intended. That is exactly what is intriguing about them; the fact that you hear a word and it has a lot of undertones. Whenever words are used they tell the stories of a not too distant past, wherever we hear them we hear the haunting call of the ancient asking us to remember. REMEMBER. Whenever a conversation holds the air around is rife with the echoes of stories from generations past. Words have the power to heal, give life and set ideas free. All that is needed is a worthy scribe ready to take down on scrolls and safeguard in the archives what is truth.

It has been said that people should speak their truth but the speaking of personal truths has led to the vicious twisting and outright erasure of events that have kept women silent. SPEAK THE TRUTH. Uncoloured by bias. SPEAK THE TRUTH. Without doubt or fear, in spite of doubt or fear. SPEAK THE TRUTH. Unapologetically, in the face of cowards who would rather bury it. SPEAK THE TRUTH.

All of the aforementioned: Water, Earth, Light, Air and Word are the threads that are woven into the tapestry of being. This is my story, the story of millions of women around the globe, past and present. All these tell our story without flattery or censure. To the ones who nurture, who grieve, who give, who smile, who try— our story will never be forgotten. It is woven into the very fabric of life.

A tear trails down her cheek, it catches the light and glistens, she shivers slightly as the wind gently blows past, then the lone tear falls to the earth. In the silence a single word is spoken 'WOMAN'.

#WM2024.