Pipi and House - A Lesson in Stupidity

I have just been to check out Lebo’s blog (you should do the same http://www.serendipity.gustoprojects.co.za/ – she’s not half as lazy as I am with this thing) Anyway, as I was saying, have just been catching up on her blog, and nearly peed myself reading her article about how she tried to straighten her African noise as a child:) But, laughter was very short-lived as horrible memories came rushing back to me concerning my very noise…………….story goes a little something like this:

I was a quiet child – you know the type that lives insides books and their heads? (the genius was visible from birth you see) So, being the introspective child that I was, I spent many hours making up fantastical games, the kind of games that sooner or later get you in trouble – Personally, I blame Enid Blyton.
As to be expected, Trouble manifested himself one sunny Zimbabwean day. I had designed this absolutely marvellous game that I had cleverly called…"Pipi and House" – wonderfully simple really, it involved me shoving up a small seed up one nostril, accompanied by the chant, “Pipi goes in the house”, then blowing said seed out of nostril, chanting, “Pipi goes out the house” This sequence would repeat itself in my 2nd nostril, and thus I spent many an hour, playing with bogie-covered Pipi!

One such typical day, Pipi and I were hard at our favourite game, when Pipi decided to flip the script on me. It happened after Pipi went in the 1st house……….he didn’t come out………One blow…..nothing……..another, slightly more nervous blow……..Pipi insistently stayed in the damn house! Aaaaaaaaarrrrrghhhhh, it wasn’t in the rules, not even in the small print! The panic immediately set in, and I started shoving my finger up my nostril in a rather stupid attempt (I see this only now) to coax Pipi out the house. But with every shove, Pipi got even cosier, and I got closer to tears.

After what seemed like an eternity trying to sneeze, blow, and yank Pipi out the house, I decided that a liquid intervention was needed. I dashed into the house (Pipi and I generally played in the garden, conveniently situated next to the plant that bore him!), hand over nose, and started pouring water up my nose. It didn’t take long for me to realise that this too was not working, and it was then and there that I realised that I was well and truly screwed…………..

My strategy was simple: don’t tell a soul lest you want a seriously bruised behind – so shut-up is what I did. For more than a month! I think it was after 2 weeks that a definite smell started to emanate from my nasal region, and my poor mother, thinking that her unfortunate daughter was suffering from halitosis, sent me to brush my teeth on average 5 times a day. The brushing and fermenting of Pipi continued until even I could take the stench no more – I caved and told Older Sister the whole disturbing ordeal.

Forget being supportive and all the rest, the child howled and hissed with laughter, and then promptly went to tell Mother (and the rest of the neighbourhood) about my gross stupidity. Mother screamed, hopped up and down and spat, but it made no difference to me at all – I was feeling a greater sense of loss, a betrayal of the worst kind – Damn you Pipi for flipping the script!

One visit to the ENT specialist and one swift yank later, Pipi finally came out the house looking decidedly fuzzier than he did going in. I looked at him in disgust and hurt – twas that very day that he and I sadly parted ways. We have yet to be reunited.