Knowing me part 2 – rated over 21

I joined Nursery school at the age of 4 years,  and  learnt to hate school as soon as my small feet touched the ground of education, a path which many can attest to the fact that education ruins an otherwise brilliant mind. For what is worth I quickly realized that there wasn’t much competition in this school, and I didn’t have to make much effort to be top of the class. I found the teaching content frustrating, wondering why the teachers had to keep on making us draw this abstract doodles in the form of encouraging writing. I’d expected them to immediately teach us higher hierarchy numbers since I’d already mastered all the other lower numbers and the whole alphabet before i joined nursery. See my point hmmm, I was brilliant before I allowed my parents to take me to that dingy European style elementary school where the path towards mental ruin began.

Before I talk about some of the things that made this experience bearable, nay, even enjoyable; lets talk about those nurses with sadistic tendencies to inflict pain to innocent children in the name of immunization and treatment. Back them the ministry used to send a team of nurses every term to immunize us and treat us for any ailment, and there were several of those back in those days of untempered youth. I believe iIwas cursed back then, for there never came a time when the evil nurses (who i suspect were sent by the good devil to torment me) came to school, when I didn’t have an ailment that needs curing. So I decided, even at that tender age, that a man must up rise against a regime of systematic human rights violations. Or in this case, a poor kid with needle phobia hence the “anti phobic kid discrimination policy” came into effect. you don’t believe me, simply take a literal walk through parliamentary archives. So once i spotted their van sneak into the school compound, peter removes his can of spinach, takes a big bite and like lightning, runs faster than Bolt or even that Boit fellow in the radio, and leaves the class stunned. needless to say, the teacher and the other nurses follows suit in a manner similar to that loud lady in the movie “Kung fu hustle.” And no matter how fast i ran, or how many holes I tried to crawl into, they always caught up with me and a big scary needle would go inside the flesh of my young ass.

One of the better highlights of Nursery school was being elevated to big guys class pardon my direct translation from my mother tongue, but it was pretty cool hanging with the big boys while my age mates spent hours doodling and reciting letters. forget school for now but life at this age was awesome, and our spirits were still free, unencumbered by the limits to freedom that come with age and puberty. I wasn’t afraid of anything round this time, not women, or pain, or death. i was free, happy and couldn’t ever picture a different scenario. What perplexes me is the fact that i can’t remember the name of this chic i used to adore then.  She was chubby, i bet she grew up to be some deliciously bootylicious mama. I think this episode had a strong bearing on my taste of women in the ensuing years. I found that all women i went after shared a common trait, they were all bootlylicious, and that became the single stand through which the first elimination was based. But I’m running far ahead of this long story, I just wonder whatever happened to that chic. i bet she got married and has 10 babies, or there about, and is living happily ever after.

This is the time when boys and girls did everything together, and women hadn’t learnt what attitude and petty pride was all about. from football to hide and sick, to playing house. House was a favorite play in our neighborhood, and needless to say i was always picked to play dad. We used to make cookers resembling charcoal cookers and use them to roast, and sometimes fly all manner of fruits and insects. My favorite delicacy was roasted locust, every inch of it was delicious. The flesh would disintegrate slowly within the grip of our eager teeth leaving behind yumminess in its purest of form. memories, my mouth salivates just thinking about those dear locusts. I remember that this is the time we started experimenting on our sexuality, behind the house and amidst the maize plantations. At first i have to confess that the female physique was a bit mysterious, what with the lack of the hanging shrong. But i took my time to study it, figuring out that the shrong must go inside what looked like the logical place to go into; in the area corresponding the shrong’s location in the female body. The truth is that is a lie, because i did know where the damn thing went, but as to how i did, that is a story left for another life.

Needless to say at about 4 and 5 years old, trying to make love was an effort in futility, for the female figure isn’t made to accept such intrusions at such an age. Even if that intrusion comes from small boys with an over exaggerated curiosity and a libido to match a horny teenager. But we must have been aware about the beauty of intimacy between couples, for when we played house, the father and mother always had to make love, or fake the act of making love. Sometimes, when there were less males, and this was most of the times, a guy would have to choose two wives and what would ensue later on, in the cover of tall maize plants, on top of some banana leaves, is a troubled threesome. PS: Do not judge us as having been immoral at such a tender age, we were young and curious, with no one to tell us that there was a time for every thing. But we stopped with our tender escapades when some relas, aware of the perverseness that their young kids are indulging in, traced our orgy hall (which happened to be the empty building behind our house) and gave us a beating deserved only by stray dogs and those tiny creatures which feed on chickens. needless to point out that with the warning that we received, the thought of such acts brought pure terror to our young brains and hence light was again restored to our hearts. It would be over a decade later that such thoughts will sneak back to our minds, forced to our resisting personalities by the fierceness of teenage hood and the sheer voluptuousness that is the high school girl’s figure.

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8 responses to “Knowing me part 2 – rated over 21

  1. Hehehe….very funny! I don’t know where you grew up but where I grew up, we used to call those cooking games “kalongo” and the ‘family’ ones “Cha mama na cha baba”. You captured the essence perfectly! The whooping you guys got cracked me up; I think most kids got *that* whooping 🙂

  2. So miss the good all days of kalongo n that was no immorality rem this were innocent little kids unlike the current generation who are stuck on ps and comps.but i bet u were more than naughty when u were young

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