I'm back!!!

After a brief hiatus, I realize my mind races if I don't write my thoughts down. Its called my "Mind Dump". And you all know that if you don't empty out time to time, things can get really backed up. So I promise a weekly excerpt, even if it doesn't make sense. But does anything in life make sense when push comes to shove?



Tuesday, July 2, 2013

The Sheik(h)

Ok, by far, this has to be one of the MOST EMBARRESSING moments in my elementary career. And yes, I am about to share it with all my blog readers. It took many years to get over this incident, but now I can look back and fondly reminisce about this innocent experience. Really, its ok. And quite funny....

It was Grade 7. I was 12 years old. I was still unpopular at this point but slowly gaining acceptance and respect for my rebellious ways. While my parents begged me to stay under the radar, I continued to believe that being myself would win people over in the end.

It was a sunny spring day. A gaggle of girls ran in from outside, talking incessantly and running past me to their lockers nearby. I noticed their excited expressions and secret giggles. I gathered something had happened outside. I walked over nonchalantly, trying to extract the gist of their conversation but they spoke in low tones and ignored my looming presence.

"Did I miss anything at lunch outside?" I asked innocently, looking at my nails and then back up at them.

The ringleader of this group was Amazon Wendy, who towered over me and was built like a linebacker. She was about to brush me off when suddenly a lightbulb went on. She first eyed me suspiciously but then smiled a big, toothy grin. She leaned into me as if to share the secret I so longed to be a part of.

"Did you see it?" she asked.

"See what??" I inquired, with wide eyes and a smile to match hers. My ears were pricked. Her cohorts moved excitedly behind her.

"The Sheik. Its outside. We saw it with our own eyes. I can't believe it!" Wendy exclaimed.

My mind was racing. I stood dumbfounded for a good minute, smiling gleefully, with no idea of what she was talking about. Wendy grabbed her books from her locker and spun around for class. I looked at my watch. I had exactly five minutes to work this out in my brain. The girls were laughing and shoving each other, either proud to have seen what they saw outside or from the fact that I was about to be duped. They all left except for one girl who overheard the conversation and was watching from behind her locker.

"Did you see (the) Sheik outside," I asked her. She nodded slowly.

"Do you want me to show you?" she asked.

I stood with trepidation in one spot. So folks, here is the picture my brain presented me with:

An Arab Sheikh was outside, with flowing white robes, a long beard and a keffiyeh tied to his head.
I thought to myelf, why would he be outside my elementary school at lunchtime? Was he someone's father, grandfather or was he visiting the school to decipher whether or not he should donate his millions?

The girl grabbed my hand and led me outside. She took me to a wall and pointed.

"There is the Sheik!" She covered her mouth as she gasped with laughter. I stood staring at a rubbery substance stuck to the wall, not comprehending what I was looking at. The girl ran off and I was left alone grappling with uncertainty. I am sure some of my male readers are now smiling a sly smile. But of course, what was a 12 year old girl, with limited experience, to think of the situation at hand?

I spun around, figuring she was pointing at the wrong attraction but my Arab Sheikh was nowhere to be seen. It dawned on me that the girls were referring to this object, stuck to the wall. I scratched my head and took a closer look. I remember thinking to myself that it looked like a mini-net for catching fish. I stepped back and turned to go to class. I was already ten minutes late. As I sat there for the rest of the day, I looked out the window, looking for the Arab Sheikh that was never there. After school when Wendy asked me if I saw it, I noddedly slowly and displayed a crazed smile, emulating their actions from before to show some kind of solidarity that I yearned to be a part of.

"Mama, I have to ask you a question!!" I yelled as I bounded into the house. My mother was not stunned or affected by my outbursts because there were so many at spontaneous times that she had grown accustomed to my style of inquiries.

"What is a Sheik?" She looked up from her sewing machine with thread coming out of her mouth.

"Its an Arab man who is usually from the Royal family. He is rich and wears a white robe," she responded and went back to her sewing.

"Does he carry this?" I opened up my Math book and there lay between the pages the very condom that was stuck to the wall.

I have never seen my mother turn the colour of scarlet red until that day. I could have sworn she was close to fainting. She ran like a mad woman discarding 'The Sheik(h)" from my Math book into the garbage and then scrubbing me in the bathtub until my skin was raw. I pleaded with her that I did not touch it with my hand and used a protractor to peel it off the school wall, but she would not listen. Instead, she invoked the name of God and mumbled prayers under her breath to bring me back to a purified state.

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, was my introduction to my first condom.....

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