The first time I asked my mother where women push out children from, she said from the mouth. The second time I asked, she said from the anus. I asked again and she raised her left hand to bleach my face with slaps. I gave her space and avoided her left hand for the rest of the day. That hand-worked miracle on my face each time I decided to be stupid. The testimonies are uncountable.
So, when I got to secondary school, I walked up to our integrated science teacher and asked him. He looked at my inquisitive face and threw back a question at me: who sent you?
Haba, why is this thing too heavy to be said. I told him that I sent myself, so he walked away while I followed him. He saw the resilience that I exhibited, sat on his desk and said: it is from that place they use to urinate. So I asked him if women urinated children. I mean, was I urinated? He raised his cane and I ran back to class.
A few days later, I was helping my mother to squeeze sieved cassava, and I told her that I had finally found out where women shoot out children from. She turned, her hands covered with the whitish smelly thing, twisted my ears like a tired naira note and said “if you ever bring shame to this house, I will skin you alive. Since you don’t see any other thing you want to learn at this age but where women shoot out babies from, I am ready for you”
I went to wash off the cassava from my ear and she told me not to move an inch as that is my punishment for being nasty.