am sharing last two of my FB wall stories from my growing up. one day I hope to compile all of my 22 entries and share with a larger audience. The underwear Inspection, Khwawa school, standard 5: Have you ever been through an embarrassing situation where you pray that the earth open up and swallow the whole you? That you wished you changed schools? It happened one morning in the middle of the second term of my standard 5, I was 10 then. Mama made me an underwear from old Chitenje material. I should admit, it was the ugliest underwear, but it served the purpose. The elastic used to secure it was a black plastic rubber band which mama cut off from the elastic used to tie bags on a bicycle, traditionally knows as Mphira. The unevenly cut Mphira was inserted in the seam of this underwear on the waist, the uneven jagged shape could be seen marking out the seam, Mama had cut the mphira stripe with a knife. The relationship I had with this underwear was purely official, to show to the teacher who inspected us if we were wearing the under wear or not. I reluctantly wore it to school. I could feel the tight mphira around my tiny waist, giving me the most uncomfortable feeling, but my options were limited, If I took it off I could be spanked by the female teacher who every morning inspected us if we were wearing our under wears. To ease myself of the discomfort, I used to take it off and hid it in my book bag made from empty sugar packet, walk all the way to school without it on my body. When I was meters away from the school, I could get in the bush and wear it, when the inspection was done, I would remove it again. One day the schedule for inspection shifted from early morning to midday. I rushed to the girls pit latrine to put it on, after the inspection we went straight for first break. I was with my friends during that break playing fulaye and I did not take off my mama’s made underwear. When it was my turn to jump inside, something unexpected happened, the elastic of my underwear burst, loosening it and I could feel it almost sliding down. I stood in my trucks, my mouth wide open, my eyes popped out, expressing my shock, not knowing how to respond, I stood still as if someone was about to drive a bullet through my skull. Everyone stood still, not sure what was happening. Being an asthmatic, my friends assumed I was going to have an attack, they helplessly stood by. I could feel the underwear almost starting to make if to the floor. I spread my legs to try to contain it but I failed and I could not hold it with my hands, in case they saw me . And in that moment when everyone had been holding their breath, complete silence engulfing the air around us, my underwear slid down to my feet. Suddenly, like a movie played from a pause, I heard a loud jeer from the other kids, thoroughly enjoying my unfortunate incidence. I felt like digging the ground and burying myself, my other instinct told me to run, but the cool me stood there trying to find the best way of getting out of the mess. I decided to call the shots, I did not let the situation get the better of me. And that was the special strength of mine. I started laughing along on top of my voice, more louder than anyone else and in one courageous move, I moved my legs from the underwear and bent over, swiftly picking it up like it was a precious diamond. I tossed it into the air, kicking it like it was a ball, the rest of the children joined in kicking it. Minutes later the bell rung and everyone rushed back to class. I hanged around a little longer, and in that craziness of everyone hurrying off to class, I gently picked what remained of my mama’s handmade underwear, stuffing it in my sugar paper book bag. Later at home I told my mama my experience, making it sound like I was traumatized. Mama promised to make another one with a stronger black plastic mphira. In the last academic term of standard 5, I entirely avoided the hand sewn underwears mama made when I discovered that the female teacher no longer inspected us. One morning out of the blue, the teacher called for an inspection. All girls from standard 4-8 were summoned. I panicked like I was under an attack, we all lined up as usual, like we were about to cast a vote, one at a time entering the small room. It was a room I linked to spanks. Girls came out crying, the woman spanked their bare buttocks. Home was far, I could not sneak out to look for my handmade underwear. I consulted my friend Gifi who was behind me. Unlike the panicking me, Gifi stood with her shoulders high as if she had her underwear on. I searched her face for clues, she whispered to me that she equally was not wearing hers. Gifi was smart, I admired her courage and instant response to any situation. She told me not to panic, she said we had to borrow from those who wore, who in our case were very very few, and most wore handmade ones just like mine left at home. The thought of it sent goose bumps all over my body. I imagined the body lice crawling all over the borrowed underwear and into my skin, the dirt underwear from my fellow 10 year old was not definitely a good idea. Gifi had to act fast, as if she had read my discomfort with borrowing the underwear, she told me she had another idea. Just hearing the word idea, my face lit up, my eyes burgeoning out with expectation. We were almost close to the teacher, about 7 girls between us and the teacher. Gifi had worn a green jersey, she looked at her jersey and looked at me, then she smiled, I knew she had a glorious idea. She whispered in my ear to follow her to the pit latrine. I did sneak off a minute after she was off, almost falling over with fear, I knew if the teacher saw us leaving together she would suspect we were up to something. At the pit latrine, Gifi took the green jersey and with much expertise, wrapped it around her waist, taking the sleeves of the jersey as the waist band. It was loose, she told me she would walk carefully towards the small room where teacher was and I should wait at the pit latrine area. The good part was that we were not supposed to pull up all our uniforms to our belly, but just lift a little bit and show a bit of the underwear. Gifi successfully made through the inspection, she came back breathing heavily, she had made it. We jumped around, hugging each other, part one of the mission was accomplished. She did the same with me, wrapping the heavy jersey around my waist, crisscrossing it, making out something like an underwear. It felt really heavy, I had to walk very carefully, otherwise the trauma of last term where my under wear fell off still haunted me. But that was not my primary concern, I was more concerned with the cheating that we had done. Cheating pulled heavily down on me, guilt had been written all over my face but the thought of the spanks cleared off the guilt instantly, I needed to save my tiny buttocks. I walked like I had contracted some deadly STD, each step forward bringing me closer to being busted. I knew I could cover the physical nakedness, but I could not cover the emptiness that engulfed me as a result of guilt, my heart was heavy, my mother had always advised me never to cheat out of a situation because she said the temporal victory attained through cheating cannot compare to the satisfaction of knowing you made it through your own efforts, but I walked on, ignoring Mama’s wisdom, feeling like mama was besides me asking me not to cheat my way out. I kept going holding my head and shoulders high, trying to import some courage and confidence which I so much lacked in that moment. The teacher observed there was something strange about the way I walked. She asked me if I was ok, to which I just nodded my head, afraid that talking would contribute to more loosening of what I had wrapped around my waist. She looked at me with her famous narrow look which we all became so familiar with, meaning she had her eyes on me. When I was finally near her and it was my turn , she asked me again if all was all right, I lied that my lymph nodes were swollen due to the sore on my big toe. She bought in the lie. I pulled my uniform a little, showing very little of my jersey made underwear. I was dismissed. I walked off holding my breath and biting my lower lip. I increased my pace, almost forgetting that I was faking a swelling leg. In that instance, the teacher called after me, I realized I had given away my secrets, why did I have to hurry off? I asked myself. I stood frozen with fear, not knowing what to expect. I could feel the jersey loosening up, almost coming down. I held my breath, my mind racing with a million explanations which I could give the teacher in case she asked for one. “Lili, tell your mother I will see her this afternoon” the teacher said, passing a message to my mother through me. I released the breath I had so much held, drew in a deep breath and I breathed out as if I had been hiding under water , now getting to the surface to draw in more oxygen. That was close, I though. “I will tell her”, I said softly. I walked off as if I was stepping on hot charcoal, when I was sure I was out of sight, I pulled off the jersey and run fast towards Gifi. She had been hiding behind a STD 8 class block observing everything. I could tell she equally had been holding her breath. We hugged again jumping and striking a hi-five, feeling like the most accomplished crooks of our generation. Good news was as I begun standard 6, mama bought me my first factory made underwear with rainbow colours. how I handles myself with that beautiful rainbow colored underwear during soccer cheerleading is a story of another day...........
Posted on: Wed, 09 Jul 2014 10:38:23 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015