Self-discovery and ‘The Adventure’ by Guest Contributor Eleanor T.K.

From the time you were three you knew not to touch yourself or let anyone else touch you ‘down there’. You weren’t even supposed to acknowledge that there was something ‘down there’. When Julie the house help bathed you behind the house on the concrete slab not far from the tap with a Bebe Hygiene soap, a cup drawing water from the Maggi gift bucket, she would stop short and tell you to stoop down and wash your toh-toh pouring water from the cup in between your legs while you sent your hands into the unknown looking at her face for direction and in discomfort at what you could not pinpoint. Even then you understood, sensed from the way she said it- that low hurried voice that to-to was not a word, or not the right word for what was down there. And that what was down there was not to be advertised or touched.

Years later and cursory biology lessons later, you can name the three orifices between your legs; vagina, urethra and anus. You know their functions and can recite them in point form as is necessary to get promoted to the next form. One is for birthing, the other for peeing the last for pooing, no additional info is necessary. But additional info comes when Lorretta the Assistant Religious prefect is caught with the Senior Refectory prefect Hassan in the vestibule of the chapel. Her moaning attracted the canteen master to the coupling pair and after the disciplinary action taken the next morning gossips tell you one of those orifices can make you scream- both in pleasure and in pain. And more info; from the chanting of a song twisted to suit events

“When Jesus enter Jerusalem Halleuliah,

Lorreta shouted Hosannas o! O Hassan O!”

You learn another name for toh-toh, Jerusalem.

A year later during the school break wherein you turn fifteen you discover your cousin’s collection of romance novels. The front covers remind you of the Filipino telenovelas all of you anticipate by eight pm every weekday. But they are more than you had expected. They tell you what you never knew you had wanted to know.

With lines like^[1]:

…The way he made her feel, however, was anything

but simple. She was conquered and powerful, needy and generous, a

pauper and queen of the world…

He murmured praise to her breasts, to her small feet, to the

damp, dimpled backs of her knees. He told her how hard he was, how

badly he ached. He urged her to rock with him, then swore when she

obeyed. It seemed a blessing when he slid like satin inside her, strong

as a bull, gentle as a lamb….

Each thrust drove him to his limit, hard but slow, so slow she could scarcely bear his long withdrawals. He seemed to be entering her anew each time, ravishing her anew, as if his cock adored that claiming stroke.

“Don’t rush,” he pleaded when her body grew impatient. “We’ll only have one first time.”

You read and imagine the pleasures of Jerusalem, you can understand why Lorretta could be heard moaning but still can’t believe it’s a part of you. Something in your hold, something so accessible. You think perhaps it needs awakening, a man’s awakening. Like Arthur removing the legendary sword.

But sometime in your 19^th year and first semester of University you read a blog Adventures from the Bedroom of African Women it is called. And with a single post and the comments which follow you are given permission to unsheathe your own sword. You are given pleasure to go beyond just washing your toh–toh to discovering the possibilities of self-pleasure. You enjoy the way you feel when reading those steamy scenes, your thighs press together- hard squeezing your clitoris and encapsulating a humming pressure in your loins. Is that an orgasm? Probably not but close. Your fingers stray downward now more confident and your clit stretches to meet the index and each circular brings pleasure rising to the tip.

Arthur might come, but Excalibur is already in your hands you can choose whether to give him or not. Invite him on the Adventure or not.

[1] Beyond Desire by Emma Holly