I ENJOYED feeding on my mother’s breast milk. I liked the taste and the softness of her skin, which provided me with warmth, comfort and security.
I never allowed my mother to go anywhere far without me. She had to be close to me always. She was mine and mine alone.
I think my mother allowed me to feed on her breast for about four years. I was old enough to remember everything including when she fought off my father when he tried to get close to her.
This, she told me later, was to punish him for allowing her to be flogged in public for not bearing a child soon enough.
But there came a time when I had to stop feeding from my mother’s breast. It was generally felt that young boys who were influenced too much by their mothers would get killed easily on the battlefield and be subservient to other men.