Of Doctors and Penises

I have just returned from Nchelenge, on the shores of Lake Mweru. It is a trip that took me through Mansa, Musonda Falls and Mwense. And once again, and perhaps for the millionth time, may I simply say Zambia is beautiful.

However, for all the beauty I saw, the one image that has stuck in my head is a certain Dr Popaneni’s limp penis, lying in his palm while his face tries to will it to grow so that he could prove to us that a certain penis enlargement powder he was selling actually works. I can still see his crestfallen face as Brian and I laugh with derision as we tell him that there was nothing special about his penis and that it was to be honest, average to below average.

“You should see it when it is erect”, he pleads. We just laugh at him.

It was one of those mundane mornings, as me and my colleagues were on our way to Nchelenge on official duty. Making our way through Mufulira to Mokambo border post, nothing could have prepared us for what we would meet at the border. It all seemed normal, we cursed under our breath as our vehicle hit pothole after pothole, grimaced at the sight of small ungainly men pushing bags of charcoal several times their weight. Life can be tough” one of us said, to a chorus of “yeahs” from the rest of us.

Once at the border, Brian and I got out of the vehicle, leaving our driver to take care of immigration clearance for the vehicle. We too decided to have our documents examined and made our way past the Congolese authorities, having been warned never to let them see our wallets. Once on the other side, while waiting for our vehicle, we got approached by one Dr Popaneni. Now if the name seems offensive and luridly suggestive, it is probably because it is, although to be honest I did not have enough time to prove whether that was his real name.

Wielding a small bag he took one look at us and briskly made his way to where Brian and I were standing. He must have seen that we eyed him curiously as he approached us for he immediately broke into a wide smile, opened his bag to reveal a number of assorted medicines all aimed at enhancing sexual performance. I have no idea how he could tell the difference because they all looked like a silvery powder to me, but there was something for everything sexual related. And he was adept at explaining, without any second invitation.

We had barely finishing laughing at his name, when Dr Popaneni got out a wad of business cards, some from some well-known political figures. “See” he said, his eyes gleaming like a fish, “I am not a fraud.  All my products are 100 percent genuine and they are guaranteed”.  Brian pointed at a sachet containing some grey powder and asked what that was for. Once again Dr Popaneni embarked on a spirited explanation, while pinching a bit of the powder and throwing it in his mouth. “That my friend”, he said eyeing us triumphantly, “is penis enlargement powder. Instant results, two centimetres in two days”.

His face was beaming, but so were ours because in our curious world, seeing is believing. What was left was to ask the Dr whether he had ever used the medicine on himself and his response in the affirmative merely strengthened our resolve to satisfy our curiosity with regards to what we considered now the monster residing in Dr Popaneni’s loins.

Brian started it first, reading my mind he announced. “I can only buy this if I see your penis. I want to see whether the medicine works”. Dr Popaneni pleadingly looked at me but all I did was confirm Brian’s demand.

And so that is how we found ourselves trooping to the gent’s toilets at Mokambo border post, paid the fee and went inside to witness the unveiling of Dr Popaneni’s penis. When he finally undid his fly and took it out, Brian and I almost at the same time burst out laughing. “You call that a monster penis?” Brian asked, barely able to mask his disappointment. I had to agree that what we saw was simply an average sized penis, nothing special, to Dr Popaneni’s obvious chagrin and vigorous protestations.

Me and Dr Popaneni

Suffice to say that by the time we were leaving the border, poor Popaneni was still vehemently trying to convince us that he had a big penis. The only problem is that the evidence to support that assertion was deficient.

Come to think of it, if I was one for motifs, I would probably say my latest trip revolved around doctors, both formal and informal. In Nchelenge, I met a Dr Konesha, whose canoe we used to explore the waters of Lake Mweru. We also met a boy by the shore, who we immediately christened Brian, seeing he seemed to have developed a liking for my friend and colleague.

We christened him Brian

Before I left Nchelenge, a certain Dr Mubanga managed to infuriate me by taking the liberty to pour half my bottle of coca cola over his car battery terminal just to prove a point. In the end we ended up having one of those annoying conversations with him and his assistant who had such terrible skin, I was sure she was playing a cruel game of Emperor’s New Clothes when she announced to all of us that being vegetarian had allowed her to have flawless skin. If that was flawless, then I shudder at the thought of how the skin was before she became vegetarian.

On our way back, we gorged ourselves on goat meat again, clearly not heading Dr Mubanga’s vegetarian advice. Should I punish myself just so I can live till I am 90? I asked, to derisive laughter from colleagues. Someone had a Koffi Olomide CD and we played it all the way, mumbling familiar tunes and humming along to unfamiliar ones as well.