Jack and Sim by Marius

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Jack's heart raced as he stepped into the hills near Sim's tribal village. This would be no ordinary journey—it was a passage to manhood.

Sim, his best friend who called him J, walked beside him. His skin bore the rich hues of the Xhosa people, and his eyes held a wisdom beyond his years. They had grown up together in rural eastern Cape sharing secrets, dreams, and laughter. They both attended their first year at university, and now they took this path together.

Ulwaluko—the ancient initiation rite—loomed before them. It was a tradition an integral part of the fabric of Xhosa culture, a bridge from childhood to adulthood. J respected it, even though he was an outsider—a young, dark haired man with a heart full of respect for the customs of his friend's people.

Sim's parents had bid their son farewell. They knew their tradition and respected the choice Sim had made. But they also insisted on hygiene and qualified surgical experience.

J's own parents didn't quite understand. They worried that their son's commitment to Sim's tradition might harm him. Yet J felt a calling—an inexplicable pull toward Sim's people.

They walked with a group of ten young male adults. The sun beat down, and sweat soaked their brows. J's shoulder-length curly brown hair clung to his neck and forehead, a reminder of what he would soon lose.

Late afternoon arrived, and they gathered at the ceremonial huts. The ground was bare, and gray blankets now wrapped around their shoulders. J sat cross-legged, his gaze fixed on the elders who stood before them. These attending men held the key to J's transformation.

Sim leaned close. "We honour our ancestors," he whispered. "We shed our old selves and emerge anew."

J nodded, he knew what awaited him—the shearing of his hair, the stripping away of ego. He was terrified.

The elders spoke, their voices echoing through the stillness. They explained the rituals, the test of courage, and the lessons that would shape them into men. J listened, his head bowed in submission. Sim sat beside him, silent but steadfast.

They were instructed to set aside their gray blankets covering their naked bodies. And so it began. The elders stood in a solemn circle, their eyes reflecting the weight of tradition. Each initiate seated and bowed on the dusty ground readied themselves to shed not just hair but their youth.

J, knew the elders stood near him. Two feet materialized before J, and he kept his head down. He had no way of knowing which elder would wield the blade. It didn't matter.

J felt a tug on his hair and the first lengthy lock fell. Large strands of chestnut curls removed by the persistent razor's edge. He could feel the tears forming but he gulped back the emotion.

J's scalp prickled. The elder worked in silence, his touch firm but gentle. He stripped away J's thick mane one clump at a time, revealing the contours of his head.

The razor traced the side of J's head, the scrapping sound echoing in his ears. He clenched his jaw against the sting, feeling the heat rise from his skin. The blade moved to the back, then the other side, leaving behind a naked trail.

Finally, the blade moved to the crown. J felt the blade as it moved over his head. The cold mountain air touched his nearly bald scalp, he shivered. He wondered if Sim's ancestors approved of this brutal transformation. The elder's hand remained steady.

J was completely bald. His scattered hair on the sandy floor. He tried to imagine how he looked and if he was recognisable even to himself.

J was told to rise and the wiry elder stepped forward. It felt awkward, invasive but the elder was quick. The hair around his manhood fell to the floor between his feet. The blade scratching uncomfortably. The feeling was foreign, his groin now smooth. He sat with his now bald head down.

And then came the water—a shock of icy clarity. J braced himself as it washed away the itch of severed curls. His entire body tingling as water dripped freely to the ground. Sim, shivered beside him. Sim looked so different his thick black intensely curly hair erased, his pale brown head reflecting the light of the fire.

Around the bonfire, the elders tossed in the shorn locks. The flames consumed the hair hungrily. J's scalp ached in the cold winters air. His naked body, again wrapped in the rough blanket, desperate for warmth.

Tomorrow the surgical scalpel would take centre stage and complete the contract. Agony awaited the group of young warriors as one by one they would be circumcised. This would be the final step towards leaving childish things behind.

Sim's gaze met J's. Sim hardly recognised his friend, the transformation severe. As the bonfire crackled, they stepped into the night to find their place to sleep.

The ancestors whispered in the wind, comforting them, preparing J and Sim for what was to come.

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