I was five years old when saw a lot of blood for the first time. My parents had rented an upstairs unit in a large compound owned by my aunt where I spent most of my time with my cousins, all boys ranging in age from twelve to five. Needless to say we spent most of our days engaged in mischievous and dangerous pursuits. One particular day our mission was to find and exterminate the huge rat that ran rampant around the compound. We finally had him cornered when my eldest cousin raised the broom in an attempt to crush him. Unbeknownst to him I was in the direct path of his swing. With as much force as he could muster he swung back and caught me in the right side of my face just above my eye. I remember a dull pain, falling backwards and everything going black. I awoke to screams and blood oozing from my forehead running down into my eyes, from my mouth and even my ears. I was probably in shock for I did not cry once. My cousins ran around in a state of panic blaming each other. They knew there would be hell to pay for this accident. My mother rushed me to the hospital where I remember sitting in the doctor’s office while he covered the stitches with an eye patch. He said I was going to be pirate for two weeks. I was forbidden from playing with the boys but that latest for only a couple of days and . I saw the admiration in their eyes as they fussed over my scar and I have never felt more included. I still have a gap in my eyebrow, I call it my battle scar. I don’t remember what happened that pesky rat.