Unpopular side with Thomas Oti
Email: thomasoti@qed.ng
My first time was not easy. The fever of anticipation was not funny. I had been looking forward to the day for a while. Everybody had told me that it was such a spectacular thing that I must not attempt it before I was ‘ready’. I didn’t really understand what being ‘ready’ meant. I just knew that I had to do it and I had to do it early before I went crazy thinking about it.
I had had a few opportunities too that I really could not take. I was too timid each time and simply couldn’t ‘pull the trigger’. It was morale bursting; why did I lose my nerve spectacularly each time? I was determined to do it and I knew that if the things my friends were saying had any merit, I could not consider myself a man unless I did it. I wanted so much to stop being a laughing stock! I had to do it or I would go crazy. I had to do it! I had to do it!! I had to do it!!!
My time finally came. And my mum was instrumental to making it happen, thank God and bless her! One day in October of that year, my mum came home with the chick that was destined to make me a man. She was young and tender and had a coy look about her. She felt so lonely when she first came; a stranger in the barn thrown in with the boys and expected to get up and run from the very first day. I didn’t envy her.
My brothers immediately began harassing her no end, carrying her up and down and generally playing rough with her. They flung her from side to side and chased her round the furniture in the sitting room. And then they chased her up and down outside tiring her out and I’m sure making her wonder how the heck did she get here! I didn’t envy her.
I tried as much as I could though to make her life easy. I stopped my brothers from teasing her so or wearing her out early for fear that she might withdraw into herself and then my easy chance would be gone! I couldn’t allow that to happen, surely. And there were the dogs and the cats that didn’t take to her early. They bothered me a lot because what happened if any of these bit her and mutilated her? How would I then be expected to enjoy this my very first time?
Somehow, she managed to survive until December. I had endeared myself to her by turning out to be her constant defender against the forces of my other siblings. She ran to me now more easily if they disturbed her or attempted to manhandle her. I was her ‘friend’, her paddy. I was her lord and master.
She owed me a lot and I had no doubts that when it was ‘time’, I might not have an easy time of it because I was now so attached to her but I definitely would be able to justify it to myself by saying ‘I worked for it’! It was December, holiday time and time for me to become a man. I couldn’t wait.
On the day I chose, my mother had taken my siblings to church. I had feigned a slight stomach upset to escape the mandatory church meetings of the day and I had told them to go on that I would be ok for the couple of hours they would be at church. My mum left me all alone at home reluctantly. Maybe she had a premonition that I had ‘other’ plans because she almost insisted on having one of my brothers stay back with me. I told her not to worry that it was alright. I would be alright. She left leaving me and the chick at home. I couldn’t have been happier!
I knew I had no more than an hour at most to do the needful. I had to move fast. So I began by bringing out my instruments and checking to be sure they would do the job as I’ve seen it done on TV and that they would not fail me at the dying minute.
My implements were fine. They were ready for the job at hand and today seemed like a day that nothing could go wrong. I called her in from outside and watched her amble in; I am sure wondering what I wanted. I immediately allayed her fears by giving her something to eat. She eyed it suspiciously because it wasn’t yet time for a meal but I guess she trusted me because she began eating and enjoying the food anyway. After all, she was with me, her defender.
As she ate away voraciously, I sneaked in and grabbed her from behind. She didn’t say anything initially because she must have been so bewildered. I tried to carry her and begin but she was rather heavier than I had anticipated. Eating so freely and so well over the last three months surely had made her fill out so amazingly.
I almost lost my liver but this time, I was determined to do it. So I held on to her two legs and took her down. I think that’s when she realised what I was up to and let out a fierce yelp and began struggling to get away. Her noise grew louder and louder but I was past caring. She could yell all she wanted; nobody could hear her to save her.
I tried covering her noise apertures but she wriggled free and attempted to bite me. I would not be dissuaded. I grabbed the rope I had ready and tied her legs. Then I tied her mouth. She was now powerless; ready to make me a man. I took off my shirt quickly and got my instrument ready. And then I began. The first cut was the deepest. It felt so refreshing and so real. I was now a man. Let none of my friends or brothers dare to taunt me again. I could do it. I have done it. I will do it again.
Afterwards, I went to lie down. I was exhausted but at the same time immensely satisfied. I had done it. When my mother and brothers and sisters returned, I knew I was going to be in some sort of trouble but eh, so what? I had done it. I had made it. I was now a man.
My mother took one look at the scene that lay before her and could not believe her eyes. Her prized hen that she had been rearing for so long and had taken utmost care to keep alive till Christmas was splayed out there in a pool of her own blood! Her legs tied together and her neck all but severed from her neck! So this was why her 10 year old son had dodged evening service. To kill her fowl! This was painful! Where would she get another hen so robust and well fed at a price she could afford. Her son had killed their Christmas chicken!
After Christmas and throughout the time I was undergoing my heavy punishment for killing the Christmas chicken, I knew I had earned the respect of my brothers and my friends and their friends. At 10 years old and the youngest boy in a family of six, I had certainly showed that age was no more than a number and that when it came to it, I could hold my own like the very best of them. I was now a man.
