Because I am a Girl by Tim Butcher

speaking to her in English. It was bizarre for the old policeman to see – his own daughter couldn’t even understand him and Chinda, so how would she understand a foreigner? But the American seemed to be very patient; he made crazy hand signs to the girl and took detailed notes in his notebook. All through this the poor little thing just stared at the foreigner with deep hatred in her eyes.
    Eventually the American left her alone and tried to instruct Dara instead. The foreigner claimed that at the moment, the girl’s intelligence was that of a four-year-old child and that because she had not been living with humans for so long, she would have to be systematically retrained from scratch. The psychologist explained that the girl needed to be treated in a special hospital in Phnom Penh, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to live like a normal human. A special hospital in Phnom Penh. When the old policeman heard this, his face darkened. He could not imagine the girl being sent somewhere even further away than where he had at last found her.
    As the American left the old policeman’s house, he said to Dara, ‘I also think it is necessary to do a DNA test on you and your … what’s her name … Bopah.’ It sounded like the psychologist didn’t want to refer to the girl as Dara’s daughter. But a DNA test? Dara knew what that was; he had worked as a policeman and he knew what it meant. Without saying anything, Dara smiled and sent the men to the front yard, then watched them disappear at the end of the road. Back inside, Dara locked the wooden barrier around his house, shutting himself, his wife and his daughter inside.
    Dara was on his old Yamaha again. He had just left his district after completing a shift with another policeman and was now on his way to a temple in the outskirts of the city. He had heard that there was a spirit healer living in the temple who could help to exorcise the ‘jungle spirits’ from his daughter. He spent a good while there, negotiating the price with a monk. At last, they came to agree that Dara would pay thirty-five US dollars – the spiritual healer didn’t want useless Cambodian currency. Dara’s monthly salary was only thirty US dollars, but he was willing to pay anything to cure his daughter. Anyway, the monk explained, he would find out where the jungle spirits hid within the girl, and he would organise a ritual to get rid of them. Leaving the temple, Dara was full of hope and he rode his Yamaha back home as fast as he could.
    The spirit healing was supposed to take place in the monk’s temple, but Dara and his wife could not get their daughter out of the house – she refused to put on her clothes and she wouldn’t walk on her feet. The next day, Dara had to pay another ten US dollars to invite the healing master to visit them instead.
    The healing process was long and tedious; it took from dusk until dawn. Dara and Chinda were not allowed into the room, so they stayed in the yard under their three pathetic palm trees. Dara drank beer from the bottle, which fell and broke when he heard his daughter screaming in the house.
    After the healing, the girl became quiet, or rather silent. She looked hurt, her huge, dark eyes hidden in her trimmed, short hair. Her head seemed heavy and loose on her shoulders. She was like a lion struck by the forest thunders, suddenly surrendering her wild temper to the lightning. Dara’s wife kept her faith in the Buddha and continued to teach the girl to walk and to dress. Two days after the spirit healer left, the family was surprised to see that the girl could stand on her feet, and slowly, she began to walk around in the house. Her back was still hunched, like someone who had been living for a long time in a small cave. To Dara, it felt like the softest and saddest moment in his life.
    In June, the monsoon rains flooded everybody’s houses and Dara had to move everything upstairs. But compared with a month ago, the family felt calm. One morning,