Samson, known in the village as the crybaby, sat trembling on a rickety wooden stool, his swollen feet resting on a dusty rock. His face twisted in a mix of fear and pain as he eyed the sharp needle in the hand of the dejiggering expert. This wasn’t his first time, but it never got easier.
His left foot was the worst—bulging, tender, and infested with heavy jiggers that had made walking an unbearable task. The tiny parasites had buried deep under his skin, forming hardened, crater-like sores. Each step felt like stepping on burning coal, yet today, relief was within reach.
The needle tip pressed into the flesh, carving around the jigger’s burrow. Samson yelped, his hands gripping the edges of his tattered shorts as he fought the urge to pull away. The onlookers chuckled, used to his dramatic reactions.
“Hold still, Samson,” the expert said, steadying the foot. A thick, yellowish fluid oozed from the wound as the first jigger was hooked out, writhing slightly before being flicked onto the ground.
Tears streamed down Samson’s face, his cries echoing through the compound. More jiggers followed—each extraction met with whimpers, jerks, and gasps. The work was slow but necessary.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last jigger was out. His foot, though raw and sore, was free. A generous splash of disinfectant sent him howling one last time, but soon, he would heal.
For Samson, this was a painful rite of passage. For the villagers, it was another battle against a relentless enemy.
To watch the full dejiggering process, visit
