Of Circumcision and the Very Buxom Nurse
To some, the mere mention of the word "circumcision" conjures up images of a particular piece of flesh being sliced into bloody bits by a rusty carving knife. The sort of thing you'd see in B-grade zombie movies.
I recall being nine years of age, laid down spread eagled on a cold operating table. I was draped in dark green surgical cloak that covered almost entire body save for my that particular piece of flesh, hereinafter it shall be referred to as my brother, out of sheer respect. Thank you. There was actually a hole in that cloth so that my brother could protrude out of his hiding place to take a good look around.
And look around he did. You see, coming of age, I was to be circumcised at a clinic of a Certified General Practioner (yes, if you are wondering - not those creepy, dark and shady medicine man that goes 'Hoonga! Hoonga!'). Everything was gleaming and shiny, from the syringe that is to be my preferred mode of torture and to the doctor's head. You see, according to my mum, Dr Tahir lost all of his hair by the tender age of 20.
I was so petrified, I was wailing aloud any verse of the Qur'an I could recall and for some reason only the young me can understand, supplications to ward off the devil. Shivering more because of the cold temperature of the room than fear, I must have knocked down the doctor's surgical set and broke some vials. Very calmly, he called for his nurse to bring in replacement kits.
This was when, for a reason the young me could never understand, my shivering little brother stopped shivering and stood upright at attention. Because in came a very buxom nurse and to say that she was quite a sight would be a understatement. Now, having exposed my upright thing to the buxom nurse, she whispered candy-coated words like "relax" and "it will only feel like an ant bite".
There was a slight pause so I could take a breather. And the next thing I knew, the doctor had driven his pneumatic drill into the foreskin of my poor brother who was still standing at attention. My legs kicked out like a bucking horse in reflex and struck the terrified nurse in the chest, which was in truth, very difficult to miss. All the while I was reciting aloud Qur'anic verses for some kind of help from above.
The only thing was that, there was really no copious amount of pain involved, not even for the nine-year old me. After a while I stopped seeking for divine intervention and stared at the doctor as if to say "Oh, like fuck, that was it?" And then I passed out.
A day later I received $100 from my dad for my bravery in undergoing the procedure and a whack on my head for humiliating him in front of the doctor.
[Note: Circumcision is a procedure of removing some or all of the foreskin from the penis. Circumcision is not mentioned in the Qur'an, but Muslims everywhere regard it as an essential practice. Source: http://www.netdoctor.co.uk/menshealth/facts/circumcision.htm, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circumcision, http://www.circlist.com/rites/moslem.html]
And look around he did. You see, coming of age, I was to be circumcised at a clinic of a Certified General Practioner (yes, if you are wondering - not those creepy, dark and shady medicine man that goes 'Hoonga! Hoonga!'). Everything was gleaming and shiny, from the syringe that is to be my preferred mode of torture and to the doctor's head. You see, according to my mum, Dr Tahir lost all of his hair by the tender age of 20.
I was so petrified, I was wailing aloud any verse of the Qur'an I could recall and for some reason only the young me can understand, supplications to ward off the devil. Shivering more because of the cold temperature of the room than fear, I must have knocked down the doctor's surgical set and broke some vials. Very calmly, he called for his nurse to bring in replacement kits.
This was when, for a reason the young me could never understand, my shivering little brother stopped shivering and stood upright at attention. Because in came a very buxom nurse and to say that she was quite a sight would be a understatement. Now, having exposed my upright thing to the buxom nurse, she whispered candy-coated words like "relax" and "it will only feel like an ant bite".
There was a slight pause so I could take a breather. And the next thing I knew, the doctor had driven his pneumatic drill into the foreskin of my poor brother who was still standing at attention. My legs kicked out like a bucking horse in reflex and struck the terrified nurse in the chest, which was in truth, very difficult to miss. All the while I was reciting aloud Qur'anic verses for some kind of help from above.
The only thing was that, there was really no copious amount of pain involved, not even for the nine-year old me. After a while I stopped seeking for divine intervention and stared at the doctor as if to say "Oh, like fuck, that was it?" And then I passed out.
A day later I received $100 from my dad for my bravery in undergoing the procedure and a whack on my head for humiliating him in front of the doctor.
[Note: Circumcision is a procedure of removing some or all of the foreskin from the penis. Circumcision is not mentioned in the Qur'an, but Muslims everywhere regard it as an essential practice. Source: http://www.netdoctor.co.uk/menshealth/facts/circumcision.htm, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circumcision, http://www.circlist.com/rites/moslem.html]
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posted by The Reluctant Chauvinist at
7:27 PM
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