I followed her without hesitation. We stopped at a shop where wares were sold. She priced almost all the cloths to ascertain which of them was cheap. She knew I needed it. I had grown so big and outgrown the stage of dangling my penis around like a small child. Sometimes I cupped it when slight winds blows aside my tattered cloth. She was not happy that I was only using cuts from her old cloths to cover myself. However, she only withdrew into silence whenever I raised it up and I did those reminders whenever we were having a mealtime at home. Such reminders usually ended our good moods. She would ask us all to either go to sleep or to do some duty while she stared fixed in thinking. She reasoned that at least, buying me a khaki wear would solve the problem.
Eventually, Mother priced the one I had eyed all through and paid for it with nearly half the money we realized from our sales. I was very happy. It was the happiest day of my life. I would be in to enjoy a rare privilege. I would be a man soon. It was a well-cut khaki wear with a grey color. Without wasting time, I put it on. Mother praised me and everyone laughed in happiness. She called me dimkpa , my son, dim and her hero. These were bigger and wonderful titles I got for owning a new short.
I had been lifted and all eyes, especially that of children of my age, looked at me as I passed. I became their conversation in stream paths, market and farm paths at least for that day. I never cared to know if anyone was eyeing me or not as I put off the old rag I had worn all around my waist. Mother had dignified me. Henceforth, I would be respected and recognized as a young man. I was proud of it. I felt like a grown up and many girls selling at the market were happy and made passes at me. They talked in whispers, sized me to fix me up, pointed at me and greeted as I passed. Everyone wanted to identify with me.
Mother had saved me from many things and in that moment I decided in my heart that I would do anything to make her happy. I was close to tears, tears for Mother honoring me for the first time since I knew her. It was tears of joy. I hugged Mother in the eye of many onlookers in the market. She was all joy.
I walked ahead of my mother proud that I was now a young man and that my youth was slipping away and the price I was to pay for it is to be hardworking and useful to Mother. I followed all the routes and footpaths, visiting and greeting friends in their homes and farms. Some envied me and acted rebelliously to their mother, making an instant demand, while some were happy and escorted me thanking Mother on my behalf. They looked at me over and over, torched it and praised me for having such a wonderful and generous Mother.
The last boy, I met was Udo. He was not my close friend, but we were of the same age, though he was older than me, we all grew up in our village and could tell many things about our childhood. He was a bad egg for his age, rotten in character and nobody in the gathering of our mothers.No mother in the entire villages speaks about him with happiness in the face. He was neither happy nor excited about my new khaki wear. That day my new Khaki sowed seeds of jealousy which later led to a big quarrel between our two families.
* * *
The next morning, I went to the stream proudly wearing my new khaki. Now, Mother could not tell me how and when to put it on. It was now my personal belonging and I decide when to use it. On my way home alone, I was walking fast to join Mother in the farm, I knew that walking alone would make people see and praise me. I remembered Mba who went in our company to the stream the day he bought his own khaki wear.
That day we stayed out long swimming and evening caught us unaware. Towards evening, Uzor and Mba went into the bush to empty their bowels and in a hurry to join us to walk home forgot their wears and walked home naked. When they got home, they realized what had happened and ran back again to pick it. They found it exactly where they had left it. This story was told around the village and we laughed over it. The short could not be stolen. It was like a gong which could not be beaten in the neighborhood from which it was stolen, for anyone that hears it would know whether it was the owner or another beating it.
What happened to Mba and Uzor happened to me too one day. I made for the bush with a plan to come back to carry my water pot home. When I was through in the bush, I forgot my short but did not realize it and walked home. I got home only to be reminded by Mother that I had left my khaki wear at the stream. I cupped my manhood with my two hands, smiled and shouted. Mother engagged herself in smile too. It was as if I had learned what was good and bad. Introducing this new khaki wear only taught me one thing – that I was now a young adult. I ran back to the stream path in search of it. I laughed at myself, that what happened to Mba and Uzor had finally befallen me. I feared that I had lost it and buying another one would not be easy. I went back to the bush and found it. No one had taken it. I put it on and ran home.
I washed it every day and exchanged it with my old rags. To make it firm in my waist, I used a rope made from plantain lines, which then served as my belt to hold it firmly.
What a time it really was!