This morning my mother gave me a boiled egg for breakfast. I hate having boiled eggs on Fridays because that is our swimming day. And now as I enter the car to go to school with my younger sister Lisa, I know that something bad is going to happen to me. Bad things always happen on Fridays. Our coach instructor told us that if we ever need to go to the toilet that we should go before we leave the house in the mornings or just before the swimming lesson. He said that the swimming pool is like God's drinking water and if we make it dirty, then God would get sick and die. I knew that this could not be true, however, but what if? I have this huge feeling that my body will do something bad in the pool today. And what will I tell Flower? What will she think of me? Flower is the girl I am going to get married to after I have become a famous writer when I am twenty one. I have written thirty two poems for her in a blue exercise book. I always keep the book under my bible. I have even written about how I shall kiss her for a whole hour in church after saying our vows.
Oh No! Now God is going to get sick because of my bad stomach. It is funny. I sat on the toilet seat for so long after breakfast and nothing came out. I heaved and closed my eyes and held my breath and nothing came out. I even tried to widen my buttocks with my hands but still nothing came out.
Oh Lord, hear my prayer. I do not want anything bad to happen to me in the pool. Please Lord. Let me not get embarrassed. The coach said that a brown ring forms around any one who does something in the pool. Please let no brown ring form around me. Please Lord. Thank you.
I am standing at the edge of the pool. My knees are wobbly and knocking against each other. It is cold. Jim, the class bully has already swum three laps butterfly stroke. He is such a show off. Just because he is the tallest and (I regret to admit) most handsome boy in class. Well, at least that is what the girls think. Well, I have a better name than his. My name is Yesiimye, meaning he is blessed. And when I get married my wife will be called Flower Yesiimye. My latest poem is called Mrs. Flower Yesiimye.
Yesiimye, it's your turn now!" the coach yells at me from the other end.
I am petrified. I climb up the short diving board. My stomach begins to rumble. I feel it. I can no longer hold it in. I climb up the five stairs while squeezing my legs together. I hear one or two giggles from below. Standing on top and looking down I feel it. As soon as I part my legs, I feel the warm wetness flowing freely down. And then I feel the soft mushy lump. Should I end this as a hero or a victim? Posing for the dive, I look at the coach and then I look at Jim. This one is for you Jim. With arms stretched, I incline towards the water and dive headfirst.
Splash! Into the water. I manage a long marine glide underwater. The boiled egg oozes out with ease. Bit by bit. It is first thick and then it becomes watery. I feel it slide down my legs. The urine feels warm under water. I swim under water almost half the length of the pool. While I am under there, I know that I shall get up and see a huge brown ring. Maybe God will fall sick even. The coach will punish me. Jim will take Flower away from me and marry her. Just before my head bobs the surface, I say another prayer. Don't leave me God.
I hear people shouting. I cannot make out what they are saying. The coach is clapping. I wonder what is going on.
"Congratulations Yesii!" my friend Bob shouts.
I glance back at the pool. The brown ring! It isn't there. There is no brown ring. I swim back to shallow end and climb out. Bob and other friends give me a hug.
"That was a great dive Yesii,' the coach says.
And to God, I say a special thank you in my heart for hearing my prayer. For keeping the brown ring away. I see Flower walking towards me. God, how can I thank you enough?