Desert Flower

I was about thirteen at the time, and living with my family, a tribe of nomads in the Somalian desert, when my father announced he had arranged my marriage to an old man. Knowing I had to act fast or suddenly one day my new husband would come to get me, I told my mother I wanted to run away.

I was running away from my father

Desert Flower is the true story of Waris Dirie’s life, and all the events presented are factual, based on Waris’s recollection. While all the people portrayed in Desert Flower are real, we have used pseudonyms for most of them to protect their privacy.

Her sacrifices have been many; her complaints, few. And all along we, her children, knew that she gave what she had, no matter how meager—without reservation. She has known the agony of losing a child more than once, and still she maintains her strength and courage to continue struggling for her remaining children. Her generosity of spirit and inner and outer beauty are legendary.

A slight sound woke me, and when I opened my eyes, I was staring into the face of a lion. Riveted awake, my eyes stretched wide—very wide—as if to expand enough to contain the animal in front of me. I tried to stand up, but I hadn’t eaten for several days, so my weak legs wobbled and folded beneath me. Collapsing, I slumped back against the tree where I had been resting, sheltered from the African desert sun that becomes so merciless at noon. I quietly leaned my head back and closed my eyes, and felt the rough bark of the tree pressing into my skull. The lion was so near I could smell his musty