I was barely 14 when it happened. It was that time of the year when the excited me left the village to pursue higher learning after humiliating the national exam council.
Two weeks in Chesamisi School and the reality dawned on me.... Here it was prohibited to drool at a skirt..... it belonged to your teachers if not their daughters! Catcalling was the cousin of death.... Fantasizing was a Taboo... A sacrilege, where cleansing would be conducted using serious strokes of the mapera cane if not nyahunyo on your bare behind.
After a busy Saturday, cleaning the Hostel,I met Tony Bikala , a senior student by then who successfully conned me a whooping 8 shillings (that was like a dollar now. It could buy a 1/4 loaf of bread and Royco). While trying to salvage something from this horrifying occurrence, the chap was called towards the administration block and he saw it fit that I accompany him. We found the sister fresh from God knows where wearing what I can only imagine while taking the law in my own hands( vaseline session ). The girl smiled at me and gave me a warm hug. I lost my network .....
I would replay the hug on my mind all through the day until bedtime. I planned, strategised, prayed,yearned and hoped for a second moment to just stare down her cleavage and possibly squeeze my athletic chest against her twin towers of Babel,her city of champions.
The next morning which was a Sunday, I woke up late,breakfast was almost over,the DH was fast emptying, as I rushed out of the bed I felt some cold sensation on my kapedo, there was some wet patch on my mattress and my maroon cowboy panties told a different tale. "Nimejikojolea?" I asked myself .... I took my arm and slowly directed it here and there, especially there,and to my horror I realized that I had lost my innocence. Yes I was no longer a sex novice .... I had enjoyed the thrills of a wet dream on a Sunday morning. I blessed the day and made it holy.