A Bold, Unsolicited Anatomy Lesson
December 12, 2024

Dear Diary,

Life always throws me the strangest experiences, but this one tops the chart. And yes, you read the title right. I could have gone with something formal, like “the male reproductive or urinary waste disposal organ,” but honestly, let’s not play coy—it’s a penis story.

So, here’s what happened—just moments ago. I was at the Biblioteca NOVA Medical School/Faculdade de Ciências Médicas, surrounded by the intense, almost radioactive energy of medical students. You know how they are—absorbing anatomy diagrams like they’re trying to memorise the human genome before lunchtime. The room felt stuffy, tension-filled, and buzzing with chaotic energy from these superhumans. (A professor must have been having a good time creating this atmosphere, or these students must have done something to summon Hades.)

It was downright uninhabitable for a mere mortal like me, whose greatest ordeal in academic history is the image of Carlill inhaling carbolic smoke balls three times a day for two months, only to still catch influenza in the famous Carlill v Carbolic Smokeball Company case. I needed air.

I decided to take a walk and headed for Jardim do Torel, a picturesque spot where you can enjoy Lisbon’s chill vibes and stunning views. If you’ve been there, you know it’s not just scenic but also full of quirky shades of life—clusters of same-gender folks, minding their very European business, scattered around. Naturally, I thought, “Perfect spot. Peace and quiet. What could possibly go wrong?”

Well, everythinGGGG.

I picked a corner that seemed both scenic and empty. The cold bit into my face, but I tightened my jacket, feeling the comforting presence of my phone in one pocket and my keys in the other. With a dramatic flourish (because why not?), I stretched my little body, raised my chin so my nose could get as cold as a dog’s, closed my eyes, and tilted my face to the sky. It was bliss—I had never felt so much contentment.

I hummed a shaky rendition of Schubert’s Ave Maria, laughing at my own vocal failures. If I’d died in that moment, the angels would have greeted me with applause for passing into glory at peak serenity.

But no. Just as I’d reached that magical phase of “nothing is going to make me move,” a shadow interrupted my zen.

I thought, “Oh, probably just someone passing.” But the shadow lingered. Annoyance bubbled up. “Who stands over someone like this?” I fumed. Still, I tried to let go of that ten-second irritation.

Then, I opened my eyes—not with a scowl, but a forced smile.

And BAM! There it was. A penis. A fully extended penis, staring at me like it had its own sense of entitlement.

I blinked. Shut my eyes. “Toyo, I know your brain overreacts sometimes, but what in the name of the seventh hell is this?” I blinked again. Nope, it wasn’t a mirage or a brain glitch. That thing was still there, firmly occupying my field of vision. What is this bold, unsolicited anatomy lesson?

In that moment of sheer disbelief, my mind went into overdrive:

Option 1: Scream, but to who?
Option 2: Channel my inner ninja and use the keys in my pocket as a makeshift weapon—somebody’s got to die today, or maybe two.
Option 3: If God gets me out of this, I don’t care if all the medical students are having a bad day; we’ll all share the misery together while I join them in studying anatomy.

While weighing my options, I heard muffled laughter from a corner. Two guys were snickering, and the owner of this unsolicited… presentation was mumbling something incomprehensible. My heart pounded, and I made a thousand promises to God:

“God, I swear I’ll never leave the library again. I’ll read medical textbooks for fun if that’s what it takes. Just get me out of this. Please. I’ll even skip lunch and do a novena. ANYTHING!”

Gripping my keys tightly, I summoned the courage to adopt the deathly Nigerian blank face—Ursula from The Little Mermaid would have been proud. I stood up, shot the man my fiercest “don’t-mess-with-me” glare, and walked away. (Inside, I was trembling from the cold, fear, and the primal urge to drive my keys into his throat or dismember that offending organ.)

Not a word. Not a scream. Just a fast, calculated move that said, “Try me, and it’ll end badly for you.”

I walked back to the library with feet so swift they could have won a marathon, typing this with an adrenaline rush that could fuel another one.

I swear I WILL never venture into random quiet corners of this city again.

MANY ARE MAD, AND FEW ARE ROAMING FREE.

Yours sincerely,
Toyo – The Waka Dube!