When I saw this picture,  I remembered how boyhood hurts. How we were planted in the hands of abuse; loosed sisters and uncles.  How our parents thought we were old enough to man ourselves, to find our ways;

so they gave us a weak freedom .
They gave us freedom to our doom.
The freedom that would kill us later in life.
Those pains still remain part  of me.

The pains of those BoyChild endangered in the hands of Auntie Amaka.  Those boy children tampered like broken glasses and they were strong enough to hold their shattered bodies, thoughts,  feelings and emotions together without breaking them. Without telling their parents because  the society stereotyped them.  The society foisted a heronic names on them.

I wonder why parents always thought we are stronger when the other part of us seek for help and support. I  wonder why they take much consideration in keeping  the GIRLCHILD together.  Teaching them how to sit properly.  Teaching them how to rebuke a man that touches their body anyhow especailly their private part.

Teaching them how to avoid premarital sex.  Teaching them how not to go to that boy’s house alone but,  the BoyChild  is neglected in that hole of self confidence. In the hole of control of himself. We forget that those boys have feelings and weaknesses also.

We sing more of those girls from paradise than the boys from the ghetto school of hard knock.  Remember, we are part of the struggles. We face same thing that girls face in the lonely room.  Auntie Marie  still stroke our dick in the dark blind room.

Uncle still makes us cum. Auntie Uche still shows us the hole between her thigh and tells us to touch it.  She still tells us to scratch her erected nipples. She still ask us to plant a kiss on her lips and make us spend hours touching her here and there and watch her groan in an unknown tone. we didnt tell anyone because if we do,  she won’t buy us that Chrismas shoes she promised us.

We should be careful whom we send our boys to.  Whom our boys go visit alone. We should be careful with home teachers,  pastors in the church,  Sunday school teachers  and those we leave our boys with.  The BOYCHILD  are also prey to sisters in Christ. The priests and those people who we trusted with our lives. They are not stones. Boys are not stones, why neglect them to be abused by those loosed sisters?

John Chizoba Vincent is a cinematographer, filmmaker, music video director, poet and a writer.  A graduate of mass communication.  He believes in life and the substances that life is made of. He has three books published to his credit which includes Hard Times,  Good Mama, Letter from Home. For boys of tomorrow  is his first offering to poetry.  He lives in Lagos

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