Pain and the Making of Men in Our Tribe   

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How we Became Men  

            The night was freezing cold, and the chill cut through the soft fresh of our naked bodies like a sharp knife. It was the night before circumcision, the ritual that will mark our passage into adulthood. The hardest test, though, was not enduring the burning pain of the circumciser’s knife, but surviving through the chilly night lying face-down on dewy grass. Our mouths kissed the wet earth, and our nostrils absorbed the fresh scent of rained-on soil. We remained still, aware of the watchful eyes of the adults around us. The bravest of us will not stir until dawn, and whoever did as much as wriggle a leg would be sent back into his mother’s house, and thereafter live in shame for being a coward. The night-out experience and the cold were intended to harden and prepare us into tribal warriors who will protect the community from its enemies.   

            At the crack of dawn we were aroused from our numbness by the chorus of chirping birds and croaking frogs. We were ordered to rise and stand facing east, gazing beyond the far horizon as we waited for the sun-god to show its face. When a halo of orange rays washed over the distant hills, the oldest man in the village filled his mouth with fresh milk, which he spewed out in a jetty splash towards the rising sun. “God of our fathers,” he intoned, “we seek your blessings and protection from evil, today and in the days to come.” The men stumped their feet in agreement, and the circumciser unsheathed his knife.   

            There was no anesthesia, for it would have defeated the purpose of the occasion; transforming us into men through the experience of pain. We gritted our teeth and tightened our butts, flinching in pain as the circumciser’s knife cut through our numb foreskins and severed the underlying arteries. Warm thick blood spurted out in tiny rivulets that trickled down our inner thighs. As it seeped into the wet earth, it completed the symbolic ritual of connecting us with the spiritual world and guaranteeing our place in the community.    

            The elders gathered the severed foreskins into a little mound and lit a fire upon it. The air was filled with the charcoal-like smell of burnt flesh, and dense fumes of smoke floated and meandered up into the sky. It was a sign that the gods had accepted the ritual and the sacrifice, and now we were warriors under the protection of supernatural powers. The men chanted the names of the tribe’s dead heroes, and the women sang and ululated from a distance. The tribe had added into its ranks another battalion of warriors, who will keep it safe from its adversaries. The sun emerged from behind the hills, sending forth bright rays through the morning fog. The elders smiled knowingly; the sun-god was pleased. Our spears will hit their targets, and our shields will repulse the sharpest of our enemies’ weapons.