A Boy's First Time

Warning: 

The subject of this piece is a reality that we often shy away from and a good number of people will find it somewhat offensive. The part of the country to which the piece alludes is as a result of my first encounter with this sort of stories and where they took place.

This here, is a tale of a boy's first time...a very DIFFERENT boy...(Or maybe he was made different by his first time)...oh well, here goes.

He had had all shapes, sizes and ages of them for as long as he could remember...(there seemed to be a factory that manufactured them because Mama got him a new one almost every 3 months)...so he quickly learnt to detach himself. They gave him his baths, his food, washed his cloths and got him set for school, church, visits and bed...he couldn't remember any of their names; he simply called them all 'my nanny'.

He got back from school (the teacher had taught them about the parts of their body and he totally liked the song that went with it -"my head, my shoulders, my knees, my toes"- he sang it to Big Baba...the only other person who drove the car when Papa wasn't driving it...all the way from school). His day cloths were laid out on his bed, his food smelled good from the kitchen, he threw down his bag and kicked off his shoes and waited for 'My nanny' to come and undress him. Mama entered the room. She hugged him and told him 'my nanny' had to leave that morning but that there was a new one (that's when he remembered that it had been almost 3months since the factory had brought 'my nanny' and so, as always, it was time for a replacement). The replacement walked in...he greeted and said 'My nanny'.

This new 'My nanny' seemed different (he wondered if there had been a factory fault...he had heard Papa say those words when some of his products came out bad)...but he didn't care because he knew that in 3 months, this 'different' 'My nanny' would be replaced.

And so night came. Mama and Papa had a function (as always) and so were not home by bed time. He really wanted to watch some more tv but 'My nanny' came and took him inside (he knew better than to revolt because this 'My nanny' seemed stronger than any other before).

It was time for the night bath.

'My nanny' paid special attention to his 'below-the-waist-and-above-the-thigh' region...back and front...and kept saying "we have to make sure you are squeeky clean". He liked the way it felt, especially when 'My nanny' was cleaning the front (how come the other 'My nannys' didn't take as much care and make him feel so good about baths??).

Bath over, it was time to get dressed for bed.

'My nanny' announced that he would be having lotion on that night. He didn't mind (maybe because he already liked this 'My nanny' and so everything seemed ok). 'My nanny' rubbed lotion on him (he could have sworn that is was oil) and once again, paid special attention to his below-the-waist-and-above-the-thigh' region (it felt even better this time). 'My nanny' spent a lot of time behind (he didn't dare ask why because Mama had always told him to do what ever any 'My nanny' said and though this 'My nanny' didn't say anything, he knew he was meant to remain face down on the bed).

Then 'My nanny' stopped.
He wanted to turn around but 'My nanny' told him to stay as he was.
He did.
He heard a zipper (perhaps it was his new night wear because he knew none of his usual ones had a zipper)...then he heard the rustle of cloths being dumped (maybe 'My nanny' had forgotten to get rid of his school uniform and day cloths)...then he felt 'My nanny' kneel behind him (this new night wear must have a special way of being worn)...the lotion rubbing (or was it oil) started again...with more special care for the back area. 'My nanny's' left hand lifted his waist while his knees were kept on the bed with the right hand (Mama must have ordered this night wear, specially for me...how Mama loves me...he thought)...then 'My nanny' leaned towards his ear and told him not to cry (he wondered why he would cry...afterall, he was 7yrs old-big for his age- and had worn lots of night wears...what could possible make him cry)...

Then he felt it!

A dull push on his behind (or was it 'in'??)...a sharp pain like tearing skin...(His eyes watered...he wanted to cry but remembered that 'My nanny' had asked him not to)...then a dull thrub that went on and on...he felt more lotion (this had to be oil) pouring down his back side...he heard 'My nanny' make sounds (the kind he heard when Mama was in her room with Aunty Hadiza - her friend - or with Uncle Ahmed - Papa's factory friend. He also heard the sound when Papa was in his room with Sa'adatu -the maid and some of the old "My Nannys") ...the thrusting began and continued...the thrubbing ache didn't stop...the lotion (definately oil) pouring didn't stop...the sounds didn't stop...and he just stayed there, on his knees, not letting his eyes shed the tears that filled them or his lips let out the painful screams he so wanted to give in to. He was a big boy..."My Nanny" said he should not cry; he would not.

Then 'My nanny' squeezed him (he almost couldn't breath) and then rubbed him all over...then the thrusting stopped (even the 'stick' that seemed to have been stuck into him seemed to come out)...there was a horrible smell...the thrubbin ache continued...no more lotion...no more sounds (only very heavy breathing and panting from 'My nanny')...he's knees were weak...he collapsed, face down on the bed.

'My nanny' told him he was a good boy (he liked being called a good boy) and that he should not tell Mama or Papa or anyone at all...that this would be their secret and that they would be best friends (he liked that very much. He had never had a friend, talk less of a best friend plus he liked the idea of having a secret). 

His eyes were heavy (both with sleep and tears), the pain he felt was indescribable...he had never felt it before in his life...as he drifted off, he heard 'My nanny' say; "Inna son ka...Barka da dare".

He smilled.