I was about eleven at the time and I was spending my August holidays with my dad in Kwakwani. I had a group of friends made up of most of the races who make up Guyana: My Amerindian friend David, two Dougla ( mixture of Indian and African ) brothers Egbert aka EG (e gee) and Roger aka Lilly Bunch, Owen Chung aka Meaters, a mixture of everything, Edmond aka Eddie Banks and myself both Africans.
It was in the afternoon hours about five, we had just finished hunting and playing, we had sling shots and we would shoot Pigeons, we called them bush Pigeons, Toucans, Doves and the occasional Kiskadee careless enough to sit still. We did a lot of fishing too, caught mostly small fish like Patwa which is a Cichlid in parts of the USA they are known as Blue Gill. Kwakwani had lots of creeks and swamps, lots of white water creeks and rain forest, it was paradise. Life was good for me; it was all a boy could ask for. My dad was the church organist and he had a good job with the Bauxite Company; he was a Surveyor. The gang would get together after the hunt and talk about the birds we missed and where we knew had Iguanas; we ate those too. We would discuss all sorts of things.
Mmm, now EG who was one of the older boys, he was about thirteen, said he heard that if you wanted your penis to grow bigger than it is all you had to do was hit it with a roasted Eggplant, we were in awe. I mean here I was eleven with my little family jewel which I thought at the time was only good for urinating, thinking about what he was saying. Anyway EG said he heard your “thing” will get bigger if you hit it with a roasted Eggplant, we decided we would see if it worked.
Two days may have passed and one afternoon about six I saw David, he said EG had the Egg plant and he wanted to go try the thing. We both left and gathered the rest, and we proceeded to the Primary school which was located at the foot of a hill and had a bushy area. A fire was lit and the Eggplant was roasted, roasted a little too much. EG took out his penis and like in slow motion set the Egg plant down on it. The problem was, the Egg plant was over cooked so it burst opened on his penis; it stayed there like glue, hot glue.
To this day I have never heard anyone holler like that, for a small mouth to belch out, OOOOHHH GAAAAADDD! Is still a source of wonder to me. His penis was burnt, plus the Egg Plant splattered all over his pubic area and scald there too.
When you are boys you can be cruel, the situation soaked in for about five seconds, then there was an eruption of laughter, I was in stitches. EG headed for home, with all off us in tow, I was way behind because the laughter was too much for me. EG had to explain to his mom. He could not tell a straight story and when I reached where he lived they had him in the bathroom. His mom asked and we talked, with the guffaws and all. He was taken to the Kwakwani hospital where he spent about two days, without any underwear. I still laugh when I remember that day and it is a memory I hold dear. I hold most of my memories dear.
Well, we are all grown and life took its toll. David is still in Kwakwani, used to be an Obeah man till his wife left him for another man. Owen is dead. EG lives in New Amsterdam, a town one hundred and thirty six miles down the Berbice river from Kwakwani, he is a security guard and a grandfather. Edmond lives in the USA and last time I heard he was a barber. Roger became a bandit, Ganja farmer and pusher man. Last time I saw him he was in the papers, he was caught by the police with guns and ammunition, he is currently in jail. Me? Well I can be found in Georgetown where I live, still dreaming of writing that book, can’t blame me, books are hard to write. My dad died and I inherited his house and the piano and the memories that are there. If November comes and I do not go to Kwakwani it would have been four years since I visited. As for our penises, well they grew with time and without any help from the Egg plant.
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Contributed by Peter Sam
