I’ve been hearing complaints about the current generation dressing skimpily, ladies that is, and some call it walking ‘naked’! It’s fashion. It’s a trend. An in-thing they call it. Personally, there’s nothing so worrying about all this – in my perspective! Why? I grew up when civilization (according to the western culture) was just about getting to my village or our small world then. The only clothes or dresses akin to us then was a piece of beaten or softened goat or cowskin cut in a triangular shape with all the tips having a rope extension. The ropes aided in fastening it around the waist after placing the cloth like an inverted triangle below the waist at the front. The hanging rope then passed between the legs, through the butt-crack and fastened at the waist on the one around the waist. It only helped to cover our manhood. Does the description sound a bell? Looks like the ‘thong’ aka ‘G-string’, dah? Yes, we wore thongs back then.
Enough of all the noise!
Now, all this took place one evening around 1946.
I was sixteen years, strong, healthy and masculine. The boy of the home. My dad’s favourite son. Reason? I knew how to look after cattle and ensured they ate to their fill and well watered. For this reason I was never sent to school (education had already been introduced by the white missionaries in the village). That is where weaklings were taken, those who added no much value to the home. They were sent to school as punishment.
One fine afternoon, bright and calm by all extensions, I decided to take the cattle for watering at a nearby stream.
At the stream after the cattle had drunk water, they set out grazing along the banks. Since it was fairly hot, I took the opportunity to bathe. I gave my ‘thong’ a fair wash and left it to dry up on a rock. Water caressed my skin and gave my body some bit of relief I badly needed. Finished, I sat on another rock as I let water drip out of my body as I watched the cattle graze.
After a while, I decided it was time to walk the cattle back home. I turned to the rock where I had spread my ‘thong’ to dry but to my shock, it wasn’t there. Where could it have disappeared to? I kept checking and turning dry leaves as I moved closer to the herd. It’s then that I noticed a cow chewing but not dropping it’s head down to pick up grass. Something like a string hanging from the side of her mouth. 
. On close inspection, it was my ‘expensive ‘thong’.
How was I going to walk home ‘naked’? Walk with my manhood swinging like a pendulum! I just looked at the cow not knowing what to do to her. I sat back on the rock and thought of what to do. At this instant I heard some monkey chattering. l looked at the direction of the sound, and something caught my eye, a banana plant. Scanning the leaves, an idea struck me. I went and plucked a leaf and tied it around my waist. My problem was solved, at least for nom till I can make it home and retrieve another ‘thong’. I directed the cattle back home but all the way I felt naked, not used to the breeze hitting me from below. My balls felt like they were freezing. Lucky for me, back then you could walk for miles before meeting another walker.
Don’t be asking yourself how old I am! This story was narrated to me by friend of mine who is 85yrs now.
How I wish I was born then. But never getting old and wrinkled.
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