Don’t ask me what kini is…
Those of you with dirty minds have already probably figured it out. Kini is kini.
This happened when I was 7 years old…yes, 7 years old. This is not a narration about abuse, because far from anything, I lived a very boring life while growing up (I still live a boring life).
But some experiences you go through them and they stick with you forever. I can still remember that day in sharp high-definition color.
It was just us kids in the house, my younger sister and I had been left alone with the house-maid.
We viewed her as an “egbon” because my mum insisted on treating everyone who passed under her guardianship as her child. So, the house-maid was our egbon, although she couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old herself and was still in essence more of a child.
My baby sister had slept and “egbon” was indulging me by allowing me stay up late watching TV.
I did not notice when the florescent lights in the sitting room went black, after all, my whole being and essence had been packaged and transferred right into the TV.
Egbon came and sat close to me on the sofa. This is not unusual, it was the norm in fact and it was the simplest thing in the world for me to lean back and rest against her warm body.
I’m not going to regale you with lies of how I noticed that she was breathing faster than normal because I was yet unschooled. I knew nothing.
At some point, egbon started to play with me, she knew I liked to be tickled and started to tickle me.
As my laughter rang out more and more from being tickled, I gradually became totally engrossed in the “tumble” play that egbon was leading me into.
Suddenly, she said “Oya tickle me back…”
As I made to retaliate with the tickles, she adjusted herself and guided my young hands up her vest. My young mind then encountered what felt like a “rubber ball” and as I squeezed the ball in curiosity, egbon let out a soft sigh.
Her response to the squeezing baffled me and I stopped.
“Oya, press it again, don’t stop until I tell you too”
So I pressed it again and still the curious sigh came again from egbon but she had told me not to stop so I continued to press it.
Soon, I began to enjoy the pressing, it felt very much like when I would pour water inside a balloon and tried to burst it by pressing.
I got carried away and pressed hard, burying my fingers inside her soft flesh because just like the balloon, I wanted to burst whatever it was that I was pressing.