If I could cue a sound to play when you opened this page, it would be that cheesy thriller-movie BUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMM.
Actually I'm pretty sure that's possible, but I'm way more interested in doing other things than figuring out how to do that.
SO. A warning: this post will include graphic images and photos. Knives. Penises. Blood. It's kinda like when they play Schindler's List on public TV and they say "we're showing this unedited 'cause it's important" and whatnot. But, I mean, I went through this 25 years, 1 month and 1 week ago, so no big deal to me.
On with the show.
In Kapchorwa is one of the only three or so tribes (out of ~40 in the country) that practices male circumcision. The ceremonies only happen every other December, and only for the month of December. As per my last post, I was up in Kapchorwa to meet with a potential partner. When he noticed my interest in the pre-circumcision parades we were seeing around, my host (the head of the organization) invited me to attend the ceremony for fourteen boys in his village the next morning at 7am. I was leaving for the States the day after, but decided that this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, as well as build my personal relationship with this potential partner. I've had very few opportunities to experience real "cultural" experiences since I've been in Uganda - so I accepted his invitation.
One of the pre-circumcision parade. The 16-18 year old kids who are going to be snipped sing, dance and walk for 24 hours before their ceremony. My guess is that the idea is to get them so exhausted that they couldn't even be skittish if they wanted to come time for the ceremony.
The to-be circumcisees are marked by being painted with a special type of white river mud
The next morning, I walked out from my hotel at 6am and, unable to find a boda-boda that early, footed the hour trip to Kapchesombe village.
On the walk...
I found my host at his neighbor's compound, looking a bit worse for the wear. Apparently while the boys are out parading all day and night, the village men are boozing and partying it up at home. Hah!
The setting. My host's neighbor's compound. Fourteen patches of dirt - one for each boy.
And the tools...
barley interlude...
Back at the compound, I was ushered front and center - they wanted to make sure the muzungu was primely placed for photography.
The surgeons and their setup
Probably a couple hundred people watching. In the words of my host: "they're all here to see who is weak". Yeesh.
The surgeons would quickly wash their hands between each operation, and use a different knife for each. Interestingly, the surgeons had some special, fine dirt that had apparently been sterilized by burning which they would throw on each boy's penis in order to give them grip. Charming.
A few minutes after being cut, each boy was brought a chair and a blanket. It was pretty impressive to watch them just sink into the chair (and then put the blanket over their heads to inspect their wounds) - they were clearly massively exhausted. I can only imagine after 24 hours of singing, dancing and parading then the massive adrenaline boost of the deed itself.
The audience
The village men congratulate some seriously shaken-up boys
I like this picture - mostly the boy in the foreground
The monkey-tails in the air are a group of boys who will be doing the deed the next day.
Congratulatory collections
On the walk...
I found my host at his neighbor's compound, looking a bit worse for the wear. Apparently while the boys are out parading all day and night, the village men are boozing and partying it up at home. Hah!
The setting. My host's neighbor's compound. Fourteen patches of dirt - one for each boy.
And the tools...
each boy has his own knife.
My host told me that the boys would be marching up from the village soon, so I should walk down and parade up with them. Apparently they were on their way back from a special (cold) river in which the boys are made to soak for a while to numb them and lower their pulse a bit.
On the walk, I saw rural electrification in process
And here they come...
On the walk, I saw rural electrification in process
And here they come...
This is a video, click to watch some parading
barley interlude...
Back at the compound, I was ushered front and center - they wanted to make sure the muzungu was primely placed for photography.
The surgeons and their setup
Probably a couple hundred people watching. In the words of my host: "they're all here to see who is weak". Yeesh.
Each boy would walk in, one at a time, holding a stick with a monkey's tail in both hands at about nipple-height, and with their eyes plastered to the sky. The boy is led to his place, and the surgeons do their business remarkably quickly. The boy then steps forward one foot at a time, puts his hands high above his head and says (in his local language) "I am a man of this tribe and I will defend this land". And none of them even flinched. Pretty impressive.
This is also a video. Click if you're feeling brave
The surgeons would quickly wash their hands between each operation, and use a different knife for each. Interestingly, the surgeons had some special, fine dirt that had apparently been sterilized by burning which they would throw on each boy's penis in order to give them grip. Charming.
A few minutes after being cut, each boy was brought a chair and a blanket. It was pretty impressive to watch them just sink into the chair (and then put the blanket over their heads to inspect their wounds) - they were clearly massively exhausted. I can only imagine after 24 hours of singing, dancing and parading then the massive adrenaline boost of the deed itself.
The audience
The village men congratulate some seriously shaken-up boys
I like this picture - mostly the boy in the foreground
The monkey-tails in the air are a group of boys who will be doing the deed the next day.
Congratulatory collections
If you've made it to the end of this post, then I congratulate you on your tenacity. It was pretty funny how many of the villagers approached me after the ceremony to ask what I thought - clearly thinking this must be something completely foreign and terrifying to me... I casually responded that I'd been through it all yeeeeears before. Hah!
Afterwards, I had a nice cup of tea and some toast with my host and some of his friends, and then hit the road back to Mbale for a meeting, then on to Kampala, and then home!
I'm stunned! Almost 2 months later & no comments to this? Where are all the guys? Are they speechless in the corner somewhere, guarding themselves as they would for a shot on goal? The absence of comments is pretty funny!
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