Every boy's first memory

I saw little Divul running around in a skirt the other day. Strange, I thought to myself. Had I mistaken this infant for a boy the whole time I’ve been here? I interrogated his mother about this. “No,” she chuckles, “he just had a snip snip down there.” She lifted up his skirt and sure enough this little guy’s little guy was scabby and sore from a recent circumcision. But why now, and not right after he was popped out into the hands of the rasazy (mid-wife)? By Malagasy custom a young boy age 3 to five undergoes a very painful rite of passage: circumcision. All of the child’s relatives are invited to attend the ceremony. The foreskin is later eaten ontop of a banana. If there isnt a banana its simply chased by toaka Gasy (home made liquor, think of moonshine) by the grandfathers or if they have already passed the uncle on the mother’s side. I later on asked some of my male friends if they remembered when this happened to them.
“Of course…it was my first memory,” says my buddy Gaeton.
“Really, why,” I question.
“well because ummmm…it hurt so much.”

The other guys confessed that this was there first memory too because of its traumatizing affect on them.