![]() He silently stared ahead.Ībout a month before, a traditional surgeon, or ingcibi, in Pondoland in the former Transkei, circumcised him. His uncle demanded: “Who did this to you? How is this possible?”īut Pungulwa was not in the mood to provide answers. The plastic encased a pitch-black, rotten chunk of flesh. ![]() Then I knew, this situation is for real,” said Pungulwa. “When they looked into it and they saw what was inside, they were amazed – and angry. The next morning, he handed the plastic bag to his brother and uncle. “Am I alive?” he recalled asking himself repeatedly, during yet another drug-induced haze. Just thank God you are still alive.”īut Pungulwa was “numb”. She whispered: “Try not to think about what has happened to you. ![]() He remembered a nurse trying to comfort him. He had something to show them – something that required careful storage. Pungulwa’s uncle and brother were to visit him for the first time the next day. He had been in hospital for two “pain-filled” weeks. He asked a nurse for a plastic Ziploc bag, the transparent type used to transport laboratory specimens. It was day 25 and Xhobiso Pungulwa* (18) slowly pushed himself up in his bed. The campsite where the initiates stayed is burnt after the initiation is completed. The youngsters have successfully completed their initiation and are now regarded as men.
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