This was a skill learned from his junior days when he accompanied his father on hunting expeditions to feed his tribe.
He did not know the date of his birth, only it was a quarter moon.
A cowhide shelter was his birth nursery.
Early eighteenth dawn he was still a youth too young to join his family clan on raiding parties.
Practising his horsemanship while they were foraging, he was displaying his presence in bloodthirsty battle, fell and grazed his knee, the leg festered for a few part moons, the time he did not walk, his body got a high fever.
No hocus-pocus, witchdoctor or shaman was able to make better and all efforts since had been failures so the leg must go.
His bed was made from cowhide where he was laid.
Elders looked at his wound, left his shelter and mumbled with one another.
He lay there frozen in terror fearing the words he heard whispered.
“Get the knife, the one with the sharpest edge.”
The woman dressed in goatskin dress were wonderful telling him it would soon be over and your pain will be gone. Try and sleep through the operation.
A bit uneasy, he slept on the eve of the operation believing that his leg would be no more.
The next day he is given a liquid kind of premed. It makes him drowsy, he notices burley greater age men come in and watches their advance only to witness a gentle lift from the bed and place his sleepy body on a flat concrete slab which lay in the middle of the hut.
Several elders are in attendance, the tall chief of this group had his surgeons, white stallion hide, already stained in blood, investigating a saw on a nearby stool.
A goatskin elder whispers into his ear that he must lie as still as possible.
It will soon be over, as a broad leather strip is fastened around his body. His poor leg is bared. Someone grips his thigh tightly, someone else steadies his foot.
There is an agony, all his wisdom gone.
He screams and bawls. His cries fill the hut. In sheer terror he snatches at the straps and hands that hold him.
The pain seems everlasting.
When will it stop.
Bloody agony, until, twenty long seconds later the operation is over.
And his leg.
No longer his.
Is being held by the youngest of the elders.