Khitan

My family, especially my grandsons, call me Eyang Brata (Grandpa). I have three grandsons and one granddaughter: Bayu, Sukri, Anto and Ayu. Today, I am 65 years old and this coincides with the day my grandson, Bayu, enters manhood through the khitan process (circumcision). He is the first grandson to undergo khitan. He looks a bit nervous, but also happy because the rest of his family are gathered around him. It is difficult to get my big family come together because they are busy with their jobs and families. I also feel happy because in my old age what I want is to visit by my children and grandsons and granddaughters. When we grow older we have more time for ourselves but people have little time for us. I feel lonely, most days, even though I have the company of my wife. It was very different when my children were young and we could hear the children laughing or crying every day. I think it was the finest time of my life.

I saw my son Toni, Bayu's father, taking him into the middle of my house where the mantri (paramedic), who will carry out khitan, is waiting for him. I don't know for sure what is going on in Bayu's mind right now, but I guess he must be scared. I remember my own experience when I went through this process. In the late 1950s, when doctors and paramedics were rare and my parents' house was located far from the city, it is hard to believe that I had my "little brother's skin" removed using an ancient and risky procedure. I was about ten when my parents decided my turn come to be khitan. I felt mixed up about this when they let me know the time had come. I talked it over with some friends. Well, some of them told me scary stories. "They will cut it again if they chop it too short the first time. Or "It will feel very painful and you might bleed a lot if you move too much while khitan is going on."

I felt I was losing my confidence as the time drew near. I had bad dreams and pleaded with my father many times to postpone it until next year, but he said I was old enough to have it done now. I almost cried to hear how set he was; his mind was made up. I had no choice. And when I did cry my father assured me by saying, "It will not hurt."

Finally, then came the day I had worried about so much. I was awoken early in the morning, five am. I was stripped and taken, by my father, into a small river near our house. He forced me to get into the cold river. I had no choice. I stayed in the river for about forty fives minutes, shivering with the cold. I know now why my father did this. It was the old way of anesthetizing me so I would not feel pain from the wound. My cold skin would not lose so much in the process.

At five forty fives, I was taken back to the house where Wak Dukun (traditional medicine man) was waiting for me. I was lain down on a bed. I remembered all the bad stories told by my friends and I felt crippled with anxiety. Suddenly Wak Dukun took my genitalia in his hand. I felt as if he was tickling it. I felt very embarrassed then because my "little brother" stood up; uninvited. I did not know what caused it but I guessed Wak Dukun's hands were warm. He said to my father, "We must make it go back to sleep." They tried pouring cold water around my genitalia but this didn't work at all. I got a full erection.

I still don't know who said to Wak Dukun: "Cut it all." That had a profound effect on me. My genitalia went back to normal size immediately. I think that fear stopped the blood from flowing to the area and made my "little brother" go back to sleep. Then Wak Dukun quickly did his job. My father whispered in my ear, "All over, son."

It just felt like an ant bit me. That's not so bad.

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