Walk to disvirginity
Photo: Karim Manjra
No matter how much it burns, don't scream. You can cry, but you must not embarrass me by screaming. Mama’s last words before I was sent to the other room. We had talked about this, she assuring me it would be fine. That it was necessary. That my crown had come of age. That she wanted to help me on my walk to disvirginity. I was just eleven at the time.
We didn't tell my Father. He wouldn't have agreed with Mama, or maybe he would have. When I look back at things now, I realize that my Father exuded some sort of shame when we talked about these things. Later I would come to feel resentment when I look at him. For keeping silent, for turning the other way.
Mama sat on a sofa as I entered the other room; I looked at her, eyes pleading; she opened a magazine, buried her face in it. Ignoring me. The hands that welcomed and led me in there were rough, the face unsmiling. I could taste fear in my mouth. I suddenly felt the need to urinate. But Mama was sitting just outside, and she would be displeased. I let myself believe that she would come barging in to carry her beloved daughter away if she heard me in pain. I didn't let myself think about why she brought me here in the first place
Did you know that the moon has moonquakes?
I was led into a chair. The flowery patterned gown I wore clung to my skin; it felt sticky. My palms were sweaty. I looked around; the windows were the only source of ventilation, and they were not doing enough even in this tiny space. I tried to take note of every detail in the room but forgot them as soon as I saw them. Part of this had to be deliberate, my will allowing my brain to revolt. Because although I wanted to remember, I also didn't. What does one do with the memory of their first?
Did you know humans are the only animals that blush?
The hands took off my head wrap, almost gently, unwounded my covering until there was nothing left. My crown was exposed. Laid bare to the eyes. I could feel myself shivering, and it wasn't from the cold. The owner of the hands wasn't even looking at me.
Did you know goosebumps are meant to ward off predators?
"Such a pity. This one is so full and fine," the hands said. What did that even mean?
Did you know your nostrils work one at a time?
The hands poking around my crown felt rough. I began to whimper. They must have sensed they were being too rough because they slowed down. As they parted my crown, first with just hands, gently kneading, and then with objects with sharp thin ends, I could feel the goosebumps on my skin. The hands held the object firmly and, wave after wave, ripped my crown apart. I buckled; the hands held me up.
"No, no, no," I screamed. At least I tried. My lips were moving, but I am not sure there was any sound.
Did you know rabbits can't puke?
The hands applied a creamy mixture "to make it easier". Easier for what?
“I searched my mind for more trivia. Trivia has shielded me since I could recall things”
My crown itched. I wanted to leave, but I feared what would happen if I went back outside and met mama. I was trying not to think about what was happening when I caught the owner of the hands looking at me in disgust. I am not gonna lie, that baffled me. Here I was, in pain, and there was no room for sympathy? The owner said they could not make it any less painful. They could be gentle at first but would have to go rough eventually. They needed to increase the pace to make it efficient. To leave no room for virginity.
Did you know fingernails don’t grow after you die?
The owner told me it would help if I closed my eyes, asked that I tell them if I started feeling discomfort, let them know when it got unbearable. Not knowing what to say, I nodded.
Did you know that there are more than 24 time zones around the world?
The hands grabbed me, laid my crown bare, again, and entered, gingerly at first. They went slowly, just brushing the surface. I flinched. They apologized. They continued. Kept going slowly, making sure they touched every outer area. I didn't know what to think, how to feel. So I just closed my eyes and thought about other things.
Did you know that the word “orange” is spelt the same, as a colour and a fruit?
The hands were going deeper now.
Did you know that a group of kittens is called a kindle?
They had reached my barrier, couldn’t go through; the hand took the object with a sharp pointed end; I braced myself.
Did you know Thomas Edison, who invented the light bulb, was afraid of the dark?
I felt the push, then the withdrawal, and then the push, until the barrier was broken. I yelled.
"Shush! Don’t you have shame? Big girl like you."
I wanted to say I wasn't a big girl. I was only eleven years old! Eleven was still a child.
There are more twins now than ever before.
The hottest chilli pepper in the world is so hot it could kill you.
Babies don't have kneecaps.
Tears were pouring down my face now, uncontrollably, like a dam had been released within me. I searched my mind for more trivia. Trivia has shielded me since I could recall things; I was fascinated with them: did you know butterflies taste with their hind feet? Or that a group of crows is called a murder?
I was sweating and crying now, trying to forget what was going on on my crown. Trying to remember the one fact that seemed to elude me: what was it? what was it?
My mind seemed to scream!
The hand was persistent, grabbing, twisting, kneading. Spasm after spasm of a burning pain washed through me until I almost passed out. By the time they finished, that one elusive fact came back to me. Drained, I muttered:
Did you know a cockroach can live nine days without its head before it starves to death?
I was crying now. They told me they would give me some time to pull myself together, but I would still need my crown to be washed, "rinsed out". In any case, my crown needed to “done first”.
The hand reached out again; I was so sore. There was a steady burning sensation in my crown that felt like death. The hand reached over touching, feeling, asking me questions: "Are you okay? Does it hurt too much?"
They said they were making sure no stone was left unturned. "In what?" I thought.
Did you know you can't breathe and swallow simultaneously?
They asked again that I tell them when I felt discomfort or when the burning sensation felt too much to bear. It was already too much to bear!
Did you know Muhammed is thought to be the most popular name in the world?
The hand came back minutes later, asked me about that discomfort. When the hand saw I wasn't responding, it bent me back and poured water over me. My crown. What came out was a creamy fluid. It was everywhere. I had to be washed twice, one time with what the hand called poo. It would soften the effect, the hand reassured me.
Did you know you are tallest first thing in the morning?
When the hand was done, I had been washed, scrubbed, placed under fiery heat. I had been folded and now bandaged. Then, only then, was I let out to meet my mother.
I could see her inquiring with her eyes, even as I walked slowly towards her. She hugged me; I push her away. She spoke to me, her voice taking on a forced cheer: "Why are you acting like this? It wasn't that painful na." I glared at her, not believing those words came out of her. "But you know you screamed after I told you not—" I wasn’t listening anymore. I walked towards the car, just stopping by the door, listening for the pop sound that signalled that the door had been opened.
Did you know fake smiles can hurt you?
She was still talking when we got into the car.
“You should thank me, I just saved you a whole lot of stress in the future. Have I told you, you look so beautiful?” She kept on talking. I ignored her, eyes swollen, throat constricted, staring out the car window.
Did you know South Sudan is the youngest country in the world?
Eleven years later, I am keeping a cute teeny weeny afro, and I see my mother eyeing it. She wants to disvirgin this natural hair the way she did when I was eleven. I look back at her now. She knows it is different this time. This time I won't go down without a fight.
Did you know the afro is a God-given halo?
About the author
Faith Nwani is a writer and student based in Ile-Ife Nigeria who thinks she’s the best thing since Nigerian Jollof Rice. A ferocious reader, lover of art, food, comedy, Faith would love to travel the world one day, doing everything she loves, including writing. When she’s not trying to survive school, she can be found co-hosting a podcast called The Writer Sauce. She is currently working on her first book.
