The First

by Michael Santana

  Once my vision cleared, I noticed he was holding a sharp blade in one hand, my manhood in the other as he made a sawing motion with his hands. I howled and jerked trying my best to free myself from his grip.

  They all started laughing again. I had no clue what was so funny. Then the skull-faced man moved his loincloth to the side and waggled his own manhood in my face. It was very strange looking. It had been cut, with the head showing like an unsheathed knife.

  I still didn’t understand why it would be so funny to them, then a group of boys all came up to me doing the same as skull man, waggling their little penises in my face and laughing.

  The chanting and drumming abruptly stopped. I looked over fearing the worst, and I noticed all eyes were on one of the huts. An elderly woman emerged to the sounds of oohs and ahhs. She was topless, and her large breasts sagged on to her belly. As she came towards me, her breasts kept hitting the bowl she was carrying making the contents of the bowl slosh. I tensed up.

  Squatting in front of me she dipped her fingers into the pot. She brought out two covered in red muck and proceeded to rub them around my eyes. She then reached down, grabbed some dirt from the ground between my legs, and added that to the mixture in the bowl. She ground the soil into the mix then dipped her fingers again. When she brought them out, they were now a sandy color that she used to make a symbol on my chest. I couldn’t tell what the symbol was because of the way they had restrained me. She started chanting, raising and lowering the bowl in front of me.

  The heat from the bonfire was now starting to make me sweat, which caused the muck over my eyes to start sliding down into them. With my eyes burning and barely able to see, a loud yell came from somewhere behind me. The piercing screech startled me so much I wet myself. Once more hoots and hollers from the people looking on. They took pleasure from my cowardly reaction. I felt a soft cloth gently rubbing the mixture from my eyes, and as I opened them, again, the old woman was staring at me intently. She caressed my legs as she slowly took off my loincloth. She said something to one of the young women who were near, who quickly disappeared into one of the huts only to emerge a short time later with what seemed to be a bowl of water.

  The young woman came and knelt in front of me. She was beautiful. Her eyes were the color of flame, and her dark hair fell around her shoulders in a tangle. She dipped a cloth in the water, then reached out to take my penis in her hands, and softly, started to wash me. Her soft caress and the warm water caused me to stiffen. Apparently, my manhood had no concern for our situation. As I looked into her eyes ashamed of what was happening, I could tell she wasn’t embarrassed. She seemed quite pleased with herself. I stared at her for a moment more, until I realized that I couldn’t feel her touch. I looked down to see that she was still holding me in her hands, but I couldn’t feel it. She squeezed and smiled at me. Once again, I felt that little sting on the side of my neck.

  It was a blissful sleep. I remember I dreamed of my family and the village. I was running through the fields with my sisters, with father and mother chasing us. We all were laughing, having so much fun. We stopped by a creek, and my sisters jumped in and started splashing each other. It was a wonderful time. I remember in the dream of looking down into the water at my smiling reflection. It will always be like this.

  I looked up at my sisters again, and they slowly started changing before my eyes. They were no longer happy, healthy and robust. They had become forlorn, sickly and fragile. I turned to my parents who had been sitting by a bush feeding each other berries, now they weren’t. Now my mother lay dead with maggots crawling in and out of her eye sockets, my father knelt over her grieving. I screamed!

  Awake. I once again found myself restrained, but this time I was on my back, spread eagle on the ground. My legs and arms were tied to stakes that were driven into the ground. My head was held down firm by a cord that had had stakes driven through on either side of my head. I couldn’t move. I once again tried to say something only to find the familiar cloth in my mouth. The men were dancing around my body while the women were chanting something I couldn’t understand. There was a scraping sound coming from my left. I tried in vain to turn my head to no avail.

  That scraping, scratching sound continued. I was becoming more and more afraid. It was one thing to be tied up right, but to be laid out in this manner with that noise, that horrible noise. I thought I would go mad from terror. Finally, someone was coming into my view. I was shaking uncontrollably when I felt her hand on my head. She looked down on me with those beautiful eyes, her tangled hair brushing my cheek.

  I felt all the fear drain from my body as I gazed up at her. Her soft hand slowly trailed down my stomach as she peered as if into my very soul with those eyes. I almost didn’t see the knife. “Skull-face” was back and was standing behind the young girl. Looking over her shoulder at me, I was able to see the tiny sharpened teeth of his smile. I started struggling against my restraints only to find them tied in such a way that moving and jerking just made the binds tighten.

  Skull-face put his mouth next to my ear and spoke. If the gag hadn’t been in my mouth I could have explained to him, I meant no harm, I wasn’t there to cause trouble, that there was no need to kill me. It didn’t even occur to me at the time that even if I could speak, he would no more understand me than I understood whatever it was that he had whispered in my ear.

  The chanting grew louder and the drumbeats faster as he raised the knife over my head. I thought to myself “This is it. All the running was for nothing. Living through the screaming death meant nothing. I was about to die a horrible death with this beautiful girl looking on.” I am not ashamed to tell you I started to cry.

  The tears fell down my face in large drops as I looked into her eyes pleadingly. She placed her fingertips on my eyes and gently pulled them shut. I thought of struggling again but knew it would not do any good. I stilled myself resigned to my fate.

  “If this is the end, then let me enter the afterlife as my mother would want, like a man.” I thought.

  The world fell silent. There was no chanting, no drums, just the thump of my heartbeat in my ears. It seemed like hours had passed before a loud scream rang thru the night, then the pain.

  Oh, the pain, it was horrendous. I screamed under my gag. I saw the bloody knife raised in the air triumphantly. It was once again dark. There were no dreams of my family, no happy romps in the fields. The blackness was all there was, all there ever would be for me anymore. My life was over.

  *********************************************

  Pain! I wasn’t dead. They hadn’t killed me. Oh, but the pain was excruciating. I had no idea what they did to me? I had never felt such pain. Then there was a whisper in a singsong voice in my ear.

  I opened my eyes and turned my head towards the voice. I tried to rise, but a soft touch gently pushed me back down. As my eyes came into focus, I could see it was the girl with the pretty eyes, she was talking to me. I had no clue what her words were saying, but the eyes, the eyes told me to be calm, I was safe, and all would be fine. I didn’t feel safe. I felt pain, and once again, I tried to find the source. I tried to rise again, this time she let me. I looked down my body to see my loincloth was gone and some sort of poultice had replaced it.

  It seemed as if pretty eyes could see my fear and she smiled. She gently undid the wrapping to show me my now swollen, bleeding, yet still there, circumcised penis. She reached her hands into a bowl and started slowly applying more salve to my poor injured manhood. Her touch even through the pain, felt so good.

  Circumcision wasn’t practiced in my village, and it seemed the site of my uncut penis was something to behold and to mock. Then I understood to these people that it was a rite of some sort, maybe of passage into manhood. Since I hadn’t had mine cut, I wasn’t a man to these people. Many things about me would change.

  As I once again started to stiffen from her touch, her eyes showed alarm. She q
uickly took her hands away and poured cold water on my groin. The stitches stung from the water, and I slowly started to go flaccid. I looked up at her now once again smiling face and understood. This was no time to be getting excited. That would tear my stitches. I also realized that for the first time since arriving in the village, I was unrestrained. Nothing was holding me in place. No twines secured my hands, legs or head. Then again, how much trouble could I cause in my newly altered state? I couldn’t run. Hell, I couldn’t even walk.

  On the second day, I woke to the smell of meat cooking on a hearth. My mouth started to water from the sweet aromas that permeated the air. Old mother came to me (this is what I started calling the elderly woman with the big breasts) with a plate of food and berry juice to drink.

  My hands moved without thought, shoveling the delicious food in my mouth. The juices dripped down my chin onto my bare chest. While still sopping up the juices from the plate with my bread I wondered what was to happen to me. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know? Up to that point, it had been anything but a pleasurable experience.

  Old mother tapped her chest and said “Auta.”

  I didn’t understand. She repeated the gesture and once again said “Auta,” then tapped my chest. She did this three more times before I finally understood. Her name was Auta, and she was asking me mine.

  “ Manzili,” I said tapping my chest.

  Auta smiled. She called for “Pretty eyes,” whose name I learned was “Kanoni” to come and sit by my side. Auta then spoke something to Kanoni to which she nodded. The young girl then took my hand and helped me to my feet. It seemed that it was time for me to do some walking, and we did. Kanoni took me out of the hut I had been recuperating in, and out into the village.

  Chapter 2

  I spent the next three months learning the ways of the village, with Kanoni and Skull-face as my tutors. I had all but forgotten the nightmare of my first night. I spent my days learning the language and the customs of these tiny people. My nights were spent around the campfire, where I was mesmerized by the legends of the village. Stories of great battles and bountiful hunts were told and revered. The village was composed of about thirty or so huts for the people and one large hut where Old mother kept her counsel. High up in the tree line, were six lookout perches facing the forest. These lookouts were used to warn of possible attacks or to spot animals feeding nearby.

  When Auta had decided to let me stay and be part of the village, there was dissension. This decision didn’t sit well with all the men. “I was an outsider, I hadn’t earned my place, and I hadn’t gone through the rites of manhood and most of all I wasn’t a pygmy. I would grow to be like other giant men,” they said.

  I understood their apprehension. I too had seen what men would do, for a little more land or one more wife? Old Mother told them that if taught their ways, I also would learn as they had. I too would go through the rites.

  “A man is not to be judged by his tribe but by his heart.” She said.

  One of the tribesmen couldn’t accept this. A debate ensued. The tribesman’s name I cannot remember, but he was very adamant about me not being allowed to stay. With neither giving quarter, it was decided that the decision would be determined by combat. At first, I was worried. I mean how could the old mother fight this man. It was explained to me that Skull-face seconded the Old Mother and would fight for my right to stay. The match was set to happen at sunrise.

  I was nervous, what would happen if Skull-face lost. Would I be cast out? Would I be killed? I went to see Kanoni to ask. She had been with Skull-face helping in the sharpening of his teeth. This is why their teeth were filed; they used them as weapons. Kanoni explained to me that the filing of the teeth is a ceremony that only the men go through. That it starts after their first hunt. Four teeth would be filed after every hunt two on top two on bottom beginning with the canines. This filing begins on the child’s tenth birthday.

  Usually, by the time the child reaches adulthood, all his teeth would be filed into sharpened spikes, if he had participated in the hunts. Which as it turned out was not an option. Every man in the village partook in the hunt.

  After being chased from my village by everyone including my own father, it was hard to accept that someone was fighting for me. I asked Kanoni why Old mother was fighting to allow me to stay. Kanoni told me that there was an ancient legend about a child who wanders into the village. This would be a child, who would bring prosperity and an end to the droughts. She said Auta believed I was that child and wasn’t going to let anything happen to me. I asked Kanoni if she thought I was the child that was spoken of in the legend. She just shrugged and said it wasn’t up to her to make such judgments, that only Auta could know.

  Sunrise came faster than I would have wanted. I hadn’t slept well, thinking about the events of the coming day. A stone circle was made in the center of the village, with both men standing on the outside of it. The rules it seemed were simple. The two men would step into the circle and fight until one couldn’t continue or gave up. If a combatant wanted to give up, all he had to do was to step out of the circle. If he was in, the fight continued.

  There was no preliminary pomp and circumstances, the two men immediately started circling each other watching every move the other made.

  The air was thick with anticipation, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. Skull struck first with a fist that sent the other man sprawling. Before Skull-face could advance, the other rolled to his side and flipped to his feet, before kicking out in a wide arcing blow to Skull’s ribs. They grappled each other to the ground. Fist and feet were flying everywhere. It ended quickly as Skull bit into the back of the shoulder of his opponent. His teeth sunk deep into the flesh, the other howled. Skull pulled him in closer and bit even deeper. Blood spewed from Skull’s mouth as he bit down a third time. There was a ripping sound as the flesh gave way and was torn off. There was more howling from the other man.

  Skull’s opponent screamed his concession and left the circle. Auta rushed to the fallen man’s aid. She immediately went to work on his wound, stopping the flow of blood. She did this by cauterizing the wound with a blade that glowed red from the blaze of the fire.

  The moment she touched the knife to his skin he dropped to his knees. His flesh seared and bubbled around the edges. A bandage was put over the now blistered, but no longer bleeding shoulder. Then as if on cue, everyone walked up to both men, congratulating them on a well-fought fight.

  After that day, I stayed very close to Kanoni and Skull-face. Since it seemed I wasn’t wanted by some of the tribe, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Skull-face came to me one early morning and invited me to join the weekly hunt. The men of the village went out every week so the village would have meat. I had seen them go out many times, but this was the first time they invited me. He said that before we went, there was something that we needed to do. First was to speak to Auta for her blessing.

  Auta, the matriarch as she was, decided who would go on hunts, who would marry who, and she was the judge in all disputes.

  The hunters and I gathered around the morning fire. They with their toxin-tipped arrows and me with my stone knife. My job was simple after they shot the animal I was to stalk and make the kill. They hunted in groups for more than one reason, but I am sure their size had a lot to do with it. They would stalk and chase the smaller prey, and if attacked by the jungle’s larger creatures they would fall on it in a pack.

  We moved out in silence. By midday, we had caught and killed three or four rabbits and one monkey. We were still in search of our primary target. A large boar was seen wandering near the village on the nights prior to the hunt. We followed the tracks on the ground and the scruffs on the trees tracking her. We found her right before nightfall just as we were talking about calling off the search. She was nestled by a small pond under some foliage. She was huge. The meat from this one animal would
probably feed the village for a week. We slowly crept up within range of the arrows. Suddenly from the left side, there was a thunderous crash.

  As the ground shook and the trees swayed the hunters scrambled for cover.

  I followed behind Skull looking for my own tree to scale. Through the brush he came, her mate. He was at least 350lbs with tusks a foot long, he charged straight at the group. One of the men zigged when he should have zagged and was gored through his side, blood spurting onto the beast’s back. Still, with the writhing pygmy impaled on his tusks, the boar turned his attention on another. Me!

  He charged full speed as I tried in vain to find a tree to climb. From high above my head, I heard the pygmies’ screams as the arrows started to fly.

  The toxin wasn’t going to save me. The Boar’s charge hadn’t slowed one bit, even though he had three arrows sticking out of him. I drew my blade and launched myself at him, barely missing his tusks as he slashed the air with them. I slashed in turn. Savagely and without mercy, I dug my knife into his flesh. Howling, he ripped into my right leg with his tusk. In agony, I screamed and drove my knife deep into his now exposed throat. I threw myself onto his back as I forced the blade deeper in, twisting and turning, ripping and tearing at his neck. Finally, he fell to the ground dead.

  Cheering, they descended the trees. Skull rushed immediately to my side as others went to gather the body of the dead tribesman. As Skull looked down at me, I could tell he was as proud of me as if I were his own son. He started to tend to my wounds. After wrapping my leg tightly to slow down the blood flow, he helped me to my feet.