Rise of a Woman: A Memoir

By Edna Sinha

This is a story of a woman from a third world country, to be exact, from Southeast Asia. To learn about her rise, know where she was from. She had to face many challenges as a child, once abused. She was stubborn and acted against her own cultural norms. Her childhood was full of chaos and the first half of the youth was full of achievements. The last half was establishing enmity through her forward thinking and future oriented vision. She was rebellious, honest and loyal to her conscience. She had just entered a more scholastic world when she lost her husband, and did not know how to handle the life’s many challenges. Finally she had to leave her native land with her daughter to live as a migrant in a strange land where no one known to her lived.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darshi Ranmuthu
• Release date: Apr 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310222412

Book preview

Rise of a Woman

Rise of a Woman

By

Edna Singha

Smashwords Edition

Copyright© 2016 Edna Singha

Prologue

The memoir is about my rise as a woman since my childhood. Women have fewer rights in my society. It could be basically to protect them from harm. In the old days they were not allowed to be educated. Woman is born to do chores in the house and raise children. When she is young she should listen to her father and older brother/s that make the decision for her. When women are married, decision maker is the husband. Women should obey their husbands and do what their husbands like. There is no place for freedom anymore. In a way marriage is considered as losing your freedom and free will. Women do not have the same rights as men.

Having faced myriads of challenges from the beginning of life, also being abused, I learnt that the best weapon to defeat social norms and intimidation was to educate myself. With that determination in my mind, I obtained four tertiary qualifications by the age of 46 all of them as a mature student, two of them degrees, two postgraduate diplomas. I have to admit that I have been ambitious. But without that how could one become accomplished, achieved? In a way I am thankful to the society and its people I was born in to. Why? Because, without their intimidation, harassment and mal-treatment I would not earn such courage; I would not have looked for the path to rise.

Childhood

Privilege of being the eldest, being the first in the class

Being the eldest in the family was powerful; as powerful as the falcon I met in a Jataka tale. That power meant (to me) I deserved more than the others. I did not realize that it was unfair because I was brought up to discover that I have privileges of being born so. I was also wrongly convinced that I could punish my younger siblings. I was responsible for doing chores and this made me feel ‘I am like mum’; like a leader. At the same time there was not much awareness about equal opportunities. Traces of feudalism were hidden in the nooks. I got the lion share and the best of almost everything. When my younger sisters did not obey me I had to express my contempt in whatever way I knew. My parents listened to me thinking that I was helping them to discipline and care for the younger ones. We did these things for their own good.

If there was anything that I could not win, negotiation was the last thing in my bureaucracy. I shouted, screamed, and left the house. I had two places to go - my aunty (my mum’s cousin) and my father’s uncle. Both places were my solace as they had books and a large collection of newspapers. Besides they were listeners and would advocate for me. Especially my mum did not treat me the same way as dad did. Dad worked in the capital city and came home once or twice a month (as I remember). I had complaints against my mum. I was daddy’s girl.

Visitors

Ours was a small village in the south, isolated from the fashionable townsfolk and modernism. We knew everybody, everything, everywhere, every backyard secret. There were gossip makers and information sharers of course. Our kitchen with a betel tray for the visitors was a place for it. Our verandah was for the male visitors with political knowledge. The tray of betel was transferred from kitchen to the verandah when necessary. I liked to peel areca nut although cracking required a bit more strength and skill. I used a nut