A Tale of Two Foreskins

Traditional vs Modern procedures

Terence and Bulelo hugged for a little longer than usual. The best of friends since nursery school, they were to spend the holidays participating in the Xhosa rite of passage into manhood. They were going to get circumcised.

Among the Xhosa people, this was an important event. For the boys, it was a statement of becoming a man, and no longer being a nkwerekwere or uncircumcised boy. No lady would marry an uncircumcised man. She considered him a child even though he was an adult, and he was certainly not someone she would want to have sex with.

Only their paths would be different. Terence’s parents wanted him to have the procedure done in his uncle’s clinic, where everything would be clean and sterile, anaesthetic would be used, and modern medicines used to fight against infection. Bulelo’s Dad was a traditionalist. To him, it wasn’t just about getting your foreskin removed. The journey into manhood started with enduring the pain and persevering through the month-long healing process, in the bush, with other initiates.

Today they bid each other farewell. Bulelo was travelling to the bush of Mthatha, while Terence would stay in Port Elizabeth. While being only two hours away from each other, it would be long before they would reconnect. Traditionally, Bulelo would be isolated from family and friends for one month; even his cell phone would be taken from him, which meant that it would be after Christmas that they would see each other again. Terence watched the car, waving to his friend until it disappeared from view, his eyes getting misty.

Two days later, Terrence lay on the surgical table in his uncle’s surgery. His cousin, William, who was nineteen, joined him in going through this rite of passage. He was excited and nervous. He shifted his bum to relieve the coolness effect of the steel table. His Dad had shaved off his pubic hair and he often scratched to relieve the itch. All he had on was his favourite t-shirt which had a picture of his hero, Nelson Mandela. He turned his head to look at his cousin and chuckled.

“What’s so funny,” asked William.

“You look ridiculous with your balls hanging out,” said Terence.

“Yeah?” responded William. “Well, I don’t know if getting circumcised is going to do you any good with the women with the size of your rod.”

Laughter ensued. Terence’s thoughts went to his best friend Bulelo.

Bulelo huddled with four other candidates for the traditional circumcision. They waited for the inkankatha or traditional nurse to arrive to perform the procedure. They sat outside the hut where their foreskin would be removed. Bulelo tried taking silent, deep breaths to stop the thudding of his heart. He wished his best friend, Terence, was with him.

The hut had been built out in the bush, specifically for the five young men. They were to stay there for one month, which is about how long it takes to heal. No family members or friends would be allowed to visit.

When they arrived, they were met with singing and dancing as other members of the Xhosa community celebrated the forthcoming initiation as the boys became men. After shaving their heads, they were stripped naked, covered with white paint, and clothed with a blanket. Then they were shepherded into the hut to await the arrival of the inkankatha.

Terence’s uncle filled the syringe with the local anaesthetic that would numb the pain caused by the scalpel cut. Terence braced for the needle prick and took deep breaths as the plunger forced the nerve blocker at the base of his penis. The doctor repeated the procedure with William. After a few minutes, he tested that the anaesthetic was working by pinching the foreskin with a scissors-like clamp. Satisfied, he took out his scalpel and surgically removed the foreskin.

Terence never felt a thing. Seeing his uncle move on to William he asked, “Are you done?”

“That’s it,” replied the doctor.

The inkankatha entered the hut, knife in hand, and approached the first boy. He pulled on the foreskin and skillfully sliced it, separating it from the penis. The boy did not flinch. Bulelo was next. As the nurse cleaned the knife, Bulelo prepared himself. He tried to look calm but inside he was a duck paddling underwater. He thought he was going to faint. The nurse yanked his foreskin and quickly cut it off.

It was all Bulelo could do not to scream. He now knew what Nelson Mandela meant when he said it felt like fire shooting through his veins. His fingers dug into the sandy floor as he willed himself to hold back the tears. He didn’t notice the inkankatha leaving the hut, and when he looked down at himself, he was surprised to see that he had been bandaged up. He looked at his co-initiates and the silence told him that they were doing their best to bear the pain.

Terence and William were released from the surgery an hour after the procedure, with a bottle of Panadol capsules for pain. They gathered at his parents’ house, where a goat was slaughtered and a few friends joined them to celebrate their journey into manhood. They were allowed to drink their first beer as men and they took full advantage of that opportunity.

Bulelo and his party were not allowed to drink water or eat any foods high in water content. The urine, being wet, would slow down the healing process. They were given a corn mixture as sustenance for about a week. The process grew them closer together as they fought dehydration and ensured that infection never set in their wounds. Bulelo had been introduced to the boys when he first arrived but never gave their names a second thought. Now he found himself calling them his brothers. Now Andile, Themba, Sipho, and Vuyo were his fellow soldiers, and they were going to get through this together.

A week later, Terence visited his uncle for a checkup, to follow up that the dressings were being replaced properly and to ensure that he was healing well. He was. He wanted to send Bulelo a text message but knew he wouldn’t get it. He went home to watch television.

Andile did not fare well during the week-long water ban. They all suffered symptoms of dehydration but his were severe. He became delirious, had diarrhoea, and was very weak.

“He is very hot,” said Bulelo. “He has a high fever. He has to go to the hospital.”

“No way,” said Sipho. “You are not from these parts so you don’t understand. He has to live here. If he goes to the hospital, he will never be accepted here as a true Xhosa man.”

“Who cares if he’s dead,” Bulelo retorted.

“If he goes to the hospital,” responded Vuyo, “he might as well be dead.”

“Seriously?!” exclaimed Bulelo.

Silence revealed how grave the situation would be for any boy who did not complete the journey into manhood. When they were finally brought water to drink, Andile was barely alive. As the other boys slowly sipped their beverage, the traditional healer came in and tended to their sick friend. A few days later, he was removed from their tent.

Terence started thinking about what he was going to buy Bulelo for Christmas. His best friend was always so difficult to buy for. He wanted this one to be well thought out because this would be their first Christmas as men.

Bulelo’s strength returned as he and the others were given fruits, vegetables, and meat to eat. Elders visited them to teach them about what it means to be a man. They were counselled to put away childish things; to finish their education; be ready to marry a woman and provide for a home, and to be a worthy husband and father. They must also contribute to the community they live in as good citizens, respecting those in authority, and valuing their traditions as Xhosa men.

Terence enjoyed Christmas with his family. After church, they feasted on succulent turkey and cranberry sauce, with mashed potatoes and gravy and corn. After exchanging gifts, they savoured rich plum pudding with caramel sauce poured over it.

Bulelo was surprised on Christmas day when the village men burst into their tent to release them early from their exile a few days early. The white paint of a boy was washed off, and they were shined with sheep fat, anointing them as men. Singing and dancing escorted them back to the village, where others joined in the celebration. Once they reached their homes, the fat was cleaned off and red clay applied to his face, marking his new status. They were then given seats of honour in the village square, and the celebration continued into the night.

Three days later, Bulelo’s cellphone chimed. It was Terence. Bulelo hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to talk to his friend. He felt guilty about not calling him sooner. His phone had been returned to him on Christmas day so he had plenty of time to call or send a text.

But he didn’t. He had changed. He had gone through a journey with others who he now considered his best friends, his fellow warriors. They had suffered and persevered together. They had even lost one, as Andile had not been seen or heard from since he left the tent, and no one was speaking his name. Bulelo felt that he was more of a man than Terence was. And he felt bad that he felt that way.

“Hello, my friend.”

“Hey,” responded Terence. “I wasn’t sure if you had completed the process. I guess you have.”

“We were done yesterday,” Bulelo lied. “There was a big party here.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have loved to celebrate with you.”

It would have been the last thing Bulelo wanted. He did not doubt that it would have come out that Terence had had the non-traditional procedure done and he would have been shunned. That would have been awkward for Bulelo and would have ruined the whole month for him.

“I will be home soon,” he said, evading the question. “I have much to tell you about my experience here.”

“See you then my brother,” said Bulelo. “I will have a beer waiting.”

Terence wondered if their relationship would ever be the same.