The NBO-Kenya vs. Addis Zega (Gay) Scene.

By Victor Geta

Prologue

Cole: Really been tempted to share these pictures we took thanks to the adorable Kamal. Maybe I should give him a kiss next time (smiles) Gosh, I'm such a camera whore too but why aren’t you showing your face in this room? Bitch, aren’t you fly!

Geta: I knoooow. Kamal is definitely gifted. Hey, you do realize I don't want to go to prison here in Addis. Unlike your prisons, they don't rape you. Where is the fun in that?

Cole: (Giggling uncontrollably) No comments. How far have you gone with that Habesha husband issue I proposed you look at?

Geta: Cole baby, I told you he’s taken, don’t push it.

Cole: Since when did that become a problem?It's not a big deal to seek for a sperm donor you know...besides since you got back there I have 5 new friends from Addis on my Timeline (sighs)

Geta: Hmm...maybe we can arrange for the sperm donor bit BUT as the resident bitches here, we are fighting for the small amount of 'men' available...we don't need neighboring countries taking our men....BACK OFF!

Cole: Nkt, you better start your thing. It’s Friday and some of us don’t have the whole day…I’ll save this talk for Addis.

  

Recently I was invited to visit the great and beautiful city of NBO. I was so impressed with its lush, green view and tidiness especially the suburbs. I devoured all kinds of yummy cuisine that normally you wouldn't find back here in Addis including crocodile and ostrich meat at Simba Salon. 
I equally loved how Kenyans particularly Nairobi guys take their coffee or tea: in big cups or should I say bowls? 
 
I wonder if they like 'everything' else big...                          

Ed’s Note: It’s called getting value for our paper, alien!

Anyway, we did go to the park and into the wild (Oh and there was this couple making out in some lonely part of the park in a prado we interrupted, I still hope they were men!) and also got wild at night. Got to see all those look-alike goat thingies (still can’t decipher which one is which) and also some giraffes which somehow have something in common with me: Fine and too high to reach ass. 

Last but not least I got to meet this really nice Kenyan guy with a great smile and smart mind. I also got to taste Ugali. (One of the most common Kenyan traditional foods) It was not that bad but I definitely wouldn't eat it every day. 

What amazed me were the big a**es everyone seems to have (What! I’m still a gay man). All you Kenyan bitches could be skinny but you are blessed with this fine a**, Damn! I loved it. Maybe it’s the Ugali. In Addis you get skinnies (lots of them), chubbies, fats, muscular, athletics…one in a million. Maybe it’s our Injera.  

But what I was looking for so eagerly was to visit one of those zega night clubs where I could just declare my ‘zeganess’ and feel free. Me and my so generous and good pal got sexified and went to the club right about mid night. Gypsies is fine but what I expected was one of those pinky-kinky night clubs with a hyped illumination system and some pathetic excuse of sophistication. Well, for some reason Nairobians like the outdoors. The crowd was fine, so many cute guys, but with so many similarities (like that feminine flag that we all seem to have). What I couldn't take was all that house music. What’s up with all that? All Kenyans were doing was jump and jump. That’s not called dancing, it’s just jumping. I tried to show them how we bitches do it in Addis but got somehow uncomfortable because every man in there was looking at me in some kind of petrified look that says 'Bitch, cut it out, you are making us too horny'. 

  

Let’s just say it was not that liberating as I’d initially thought. Even though I was given all these tips on how to pick a guy, flirt with him and how to attract the Kenyan alpha male by Cole, the only time I was asked to stand up and turn around was by the Kenyan police. (And not in a good way)

The fact of the matter is that there is no real difference between the gay scene in Addis and NBO. We may not have a gay club but we do have clubs we often patronize. You guys don't dance body to body even though you have a zega-friendly club (Just to be clear, the zega club I was looking forward to see was an all zega club. This one just had a partition.)

We zegas in Addis may be too blind to see that we are somehow free. We go out, we have fun, we flirt, we dance (in a so not provocative way) and yet it’s in the enemy’s (those straight folks) club. Believe me; you don't want to see us dance. 

 

One true difference I could find was that you got the body and we got the moves. Suck on that!

 

Till next time, as we say it in Addis: CHER YIGITEMEN!

Regards,

Victor Geta

 

Victor Geta is a 25-year old Addis-based zega (read as gay) guy working for gain in Ethiopia and beyond as he gets to travel in various cities across the world. He recently toured Kenya for the first time and had a lot of admiration not only for its people but also places. He also got to interact with TSR’S Cole Mutahi courtesy of a mutual friend they share.

MY QUESTIONS ON KENYA AND MARRIAGE EQUALITY

By Jacob Adams*

In the words of Aristotle “I have gained this from Philosophy: that I do without being commanded what others do only from fear of the law.” Fear is a vital response to physical and emotional danger. Law on the other hand is a regulation enacted by the legislative branch of a government and signed into law, or in some nations created by decree without any democratic process.

The laws in Kenya prohibit homosexuality, and forgive me I will not go into detail explaining those boring statutes enacted into operation. Rather I will task myself with asking questions, Questions that have been burning in my soul or mind, rather.

Do I have to fear?        

Should the law not protect me? Boohoo I am a Kenyan citizen with as much rights as anyone else. But this is not the case here. Fear has travelled from my soul right to my legs as I seek for a breath of life.  

 But why do I remain quiet?

Why haven’t I stood up for my rights?

Human rights to be clear are rights inherent to all human beings, whatever our nationality, place of residence, sex, national or ethnic origin, color, religion, language, or any other status. Before you raise your hand to correct me and tell me that homosexuality is not a human right and rather a crime and is comparable to acts such as robbery, murder and should be castigated equally, maybe you may try to explain how homosexuality violates your rights or does mischief to another entity.

Crime can be defined as an action or activity considered to be evil, shameful, or wrong. This is where the debate tends to heat up. Because we live in a world with people of different cultures and religion people tend to think differently.  But we live in an era of liberty, the state of being free. But free to do what?

How can a state claim to have full human rights when in fact this is not true?

                                               

How do I start fighting a law enacted by a state, to have it changed without backlash from the society that may not understand human rights so well as to retaliate against me and maybe even murder me?                                                                                                                                                                                       

How do I show affection towards the person I love without getting expelled from society? Maybe I am weak? Maybe what they say about homosexuality being a state of mind and a teenager experience is true? But alas! Could I have been in transition for all these years? No, I don’t think so.

Comparing a murderer to a homosexual is just plain and imprudent. Even as much as a murderer may choose to kill, levels of Monoamine Oxidase A play a great role in risk taking. But murder is just crime, plain and simple. Because with murder, another human’s right is violated. But what about homosexuality, whose right am I harming?                                                                                                                                         

Does having an affair with a person of the same sex lead to the annihilation of another entity, biotic or abiotic? And no, I am not talking about the spread of HIV here.

What about morals? One may ask. But who chooses what is wrong or right. One man’s meat is another man’s poison. What may seem wrong to me may seem right to you. But who is to judge in this case then? Who is right and who is wrong? In this case the party whose actions do no mischief to another entity is right. It’s called liberty, friends!

In this era then, I have a right to move arm to arm with my loved one without having stones thrown at me, or have my bedroom pleasures (sorry I forgot to mention parental guidance) without having the police knock at my door. But that is not the case. It is very much different. Not with all the witlessness my fellow Africans have about homosexuality. With talk that homosexuality was brought by white men. This is just a conspiracy. Homosexuality is not new. But when mentioned, heads are turned in awe and disbelief.  

“How can people of the same sex sleep together?”

Call it an abomination. Call it blasphemy. But I call it a right. I may not have the power to change the law in one day, besides Rome was not built in a day. Not even did New York attain marriage equality in a day, it had to take them years beginning with the stonewall riots.   

Much as I would love to be in a relationship with the man I love. Maybe this is not the time.

                              

Do I have to hide my sexuality? This brings me back to fear and the Law. Fear could be real or imagined. The latter is not true in this case. Because soon Kenya will have its very own stonewall riots, but for how long till then, I don’t know. Much as I would love to be a part of the victory I would say am a bit skeptical because of the distressing emotion aroused by the fact that I could get killed and my family looked down upon by my actions.

                                                                 

But what does the law say about killing? Maybe until the society fully understands homosexuality can we be ready for a next move. Maybe when the society learns to respect us as human beings that didn’t choose the path of homosexuality because we wanted it but rather we were born this way is when fighting for our rights will make sense. Wait; do not take off your armor because I said we are not ready for war! Because, in trying to educate someone to rid them of ignorance always expect violence. Then you will need the armor. A battle you should be prepared for. Sadly I am not prepared for one. So maybe wake me up in the year 2030. Vision 2030 they say will bring Kenya to economic heights. 

  

But my vision 2030 is for Kenya to have marriage equality.

Jacob Adams*

19-Year old Jacob Adams* is an ardent writer and reader of almost anything that touches on the LGBT community. You will realize that the two links (Acknowledgments to Identity Kenya and PLOS One)he considered herein have some wealth of story and/or reinforcement behind it. This is his premier article on T.S.R. He also has various other articles he has worked on and is currently working on a novel whose thematic concerns inter alia include the ever complicated queer scene.

Balanced dating opinions, Caprice, sperm towels?

By Cole Mutahi

You people do you remember that couple I told you I usually run into at the mall? Guess what? I ran into them today again. I know a gay mind always has a clouded judgment anytime the sight of two guys in a manner likely to suggest they are ‘couplish’ comes into play, but what would you think if you saw two definitely hot guys and one carrying two face towels…Oops they are called sperm cum towels in the words of my friend Sage.

The weekend has had its fair share of drama and it’s barely 6 on a Saturday evening. I know I have some dinner coming up shortly but then I pause here and ask: What the hell is wrong with me?

The better part of the morning was spent cat napping, reviewing the last two articles for this month by two great guests, watching some series called: ‘Why am I still single?’ and having a bite at the goat eating revelry my neighbour downstairs has been having the whole afternoon just on my way out for a coffee date. I just love my sleep on weekends especially when I’ve shut off everyone from it including would-be boyfriends and/or bed buddies.

What a strategic waste of hotness...

So here I was at the mall -again- having my usual large mug of cappuccino (Geta, my Addis ‘sister’ already has an opinion on this, make sure you read his article on Friday) as I wait for this blind date I feel obligated to attend(pretty boys always have some accurate intuition).4 P.M was the agreed time. I made sure I looked simple and at home since I was just in the hood. I have one rule when it comes to dating. After 10-15 minutes of unexplained delay I definitely swallow the hard pill I’ve been stood up hence my mind shuts off completely. So now I’m juggling between this Eric Van Lustbader novel and my beverage. He finally shows up. Tall, not dark but undeniably handsome. He declines to order for anything and advises the visibly fetching waiter that he’s just on his way out. Hmm…back to that series I was watching in the morning. The guy is certainly not excited (well, that makes the two of us), a student by profession as they come, believes he can’t waste money having anything in a coffee house though says he’s hungry (Honey, I definitely waste money on my fine self) and juggles between making calls to friends who are obviously too busy. I only make one call. ‘Hector, I’m done here please come pick me I go back home!’

To cut the long story short, this was my shortest date in history (a record 30 minutes with 10 minutes conversation that felt like some sort of interview) and definitely it’s going to be the first one since I want to start this circular dating thing again to have a balanced opinion in men since I’ve been advised I’m losing focus by some fellow bi*ch whose opinions I really should stop listening to. You won’t believe Jo-C had already sent me one of those brief be careful texts. This was definitely a warning.

Now Hector was taking ages thanks to the unusual-for-a-Saturday- Ngong Road traffic but thank God I’d already seen him off. (Isn’t it interesting how you feel relieved to see off people you just didn’t connect?)

You people know what Cole Mutahi does best when he’s thrown off balance and has that emergency cash the pretty boys’ dating code (somewhere in this blog) states. I get into a supermarket to do some uncalled for household shopping. That’s how I ended up seeing that couple I mentioned earlier. One of these days I should just say hi. Besides, it’s really awesome to see two guys doing something worthwhile on a Saturday. Pretty boys don’t forget that lecture I gave you. There’s always a big difference between a man who spends his Saturday and Sunday with you and the one who only wants you for Friday night. If it’s the latter you are dealing with and it’s just not your thing: Run like hell!

Back to this balanced opinion on dating gospel. In a week I’m supposed to go stay in central province before taking up some new assignment I was offered this past week. I will definitely associate myself with the sentiments of the last guest who visited T.S.R and say I also have my biases when it comes to men. One of the deal breakers is someone has got to put the pants in any of these dates’ interactions. I’m not going to help anyone do it. I mean, really.

Regards,

CM.

SPHERES (Final Part)

By J. Sisulu Mwanga

I am a better gentleman than what Sauti Sol and P-Unit sing about. I call Gillo, the watchman and send him to the supermarket. Waiting for him to lumber up the stairs to fifth floor, I peer into the fridge and they have ransacked it; opened cans of desiccated coconut milk – both the yellow colour label sweetened and blue colour label unsweetened- pure shagzmondoz (primitive people)! And both bacon packs – beef and pork – are slit open. I pour myself a glass of scotch and light a Dunhill. 

They frown, and say ‘Sigara!!!’ Na pombe, itakuua!’ (Cigarette and liquor will finish you) Well, its scotch bought by my own money and yes, I can read the placards on my cigarette package, duhh! I wrote the tobacco legislation working at the A.G’s! I know my choices well, what are yours? Sprawling on my couch twitching my remote while the bed I left you in at 9 a.m. is not spread?

You are not and will not be a mboch (househelp). I intend not to make you my mboch. But dear, clean after yourself, the plates – coconut milk, cereals and bacon and Nidos, the soda bottle – you drunk directly from a bottle, yuck! And you feign class? - And water glass and desiccated coconut milk cups are seducing flies on the coffee and dining table. My precious Dutch oven porcelain, is unwashed, rotting away soaked in salty Mombasa borehole water. The pan that fried varied bacon still seats greasy on the burners! My stand alone Simfer electro-gas oven and burner is unwiped! Dude, even if you are the dream bottom, wacha ikae (let it be)!

 Your usual musical treat is in order at this point I guess...

In this sewage of queerdom, I will fuck around and grow old alone and lonely. I will keep my sovereignty. Fuck the idealistic gay love I imbibed fearing I will be labeled ‘mtu wa ngozi’. I am grown full circle. I have preached and mis-preached at the temple-Tacos Balcony; screwed pre-prime meat, kept and paid school fees for a man; gone to someone’s nyalgunga -the grandma remembers me five years down the line -; I have had that gay men ‘fighting-for-me’ drama on my door step at 2 a.m. – the hour of leopards-; and I crave to take ngwaci and bananas and whatever else rucacio entails. Now, here and with no apologies, l conclude nothing concrete comes from being gay. Nothing but disillusionment and emptiness. 

Final sentiments

And if we get to talk on F.B, don’t be pea size brained. Don’t ask after the basic ‘hi’ if I am ‘t or b’? What the hell am I doing chatting with you! Some due diligence please, it’s all on my profile info. Expand your brain capacity, it’s an old fag over here you are transacting with. Sample some previous chat F.B. administrators are paid to maintain.

‘What is the latest read and flick you watched?’ An intellectual stimulant. Note: It’s read then flick. Any wannabe with fifty bob can get any flick, not a book though. That takes some special energy.

The Gathering by Anne Enright is what I am currently reading; New Yorker’s article on the conviction of Christopher ‘Dudus’ Coke the lord of Tivoli Gardens, the protector of the neighborhood Denham Town of Kingston, Jamaica is my smoking read; A.S Byatt “Possessions” is the toilet read.’ I typed back.

Response, ‘Starting on Chika Ungwe’s latest Last Night Dancer. A preview copy though. Can you get me the Kenyan classic, Down River Road, Meja Mwangi?’ Now that is a challenge, I am still looking for the first edition!

He chats like someone we can find a ranch in Laikipia and make a home and just read and write. Someone rocky and founded, something exciting beyond gypo, some worthy exploration if you ask me. Sad, he is in Lusaka. Get it?   

Kindly let's cut the hypocrisy, the double standards, the pretender classiness and idealism of queerdom. Let’s create a realistic queerdom to operate in. Maybe the dream catcher is still out there.

By J. Sisulu Mwanga

 J. Sisulu Mwanga is a writing enthusiast and established barrister. His short story ‘Motel Ngara’ appears on the ezine Storymoja. Storytime Africa has long listed one of his stories 'A Married Man' for African Roar 2012. This work is dedicated to his last clandestine partner whom he really liked and wanted to learn to love.

SPHERES (Part 1 OF 2)

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Grey, Grim and Smokey...

By Steph_Ben 

I am sitting in this Porch of a poky hotel in West Africa, watching how the rain is causing some struggles to the city. I'm safe. I'm protected. The city looks like it is on fire. There's no burning happening. People are running around trying to defend their fine selves from the storm. Yet again, I'm safe, I'm protected... I have to confess though; I like the sight of it! 

I'm trying to think what makes people different on how they feel, how they perceive things in life. Why are people running away from the rain? Why do I feel safe and protected?

There was a time in my life that I did run too. I tried to hide in many corners trying to avoid to be rained on. Until you realized that in order to survive, sometimes you need to be rained on. What makes people special is how you deal whilst you are under...and more importantly, how you deal with it later on... Resilience.

I have to confess that I've been in all kind of situations. Some of them I wouldn't dare to confess openly and publicly, it will be too harsh or even too embarrassing. Others could be as fun as embarrassing, yet again, to confess. However, there is a bunch of experiences that 'age' provides besides the best possible advice.

I keep listening to people say that 'age' is a number... I hate to break it to you (and your therapist) It is not! This does not work in the 'scene'. Unfortunately, in some 'civilizations', more specifically in the gay western world, after 30, you are dead. No matter how well you keep yourself, no matter how skilled you are, no matter how rich you are (well that latter bit is not entirely true).

This assumption has a negatively impacts your self-confidence – an impact that has more power than the fact that you are still breathing-Self-worth has become a utopia more than a right. We are always talking about the stigma inflicted by the 'straight guys' without realizing that we are our own worst enemies. (Please, let's not talk if you are fat and or ugly).  Honeys, I have been there and bought the T-shirt!

  

From this end, Age is a collection of experiences that make you wiser or, if possible, more naive or stupid but it is definitely imperative to go through. I have to point it out that being in my early forties; I have been naive and stupid, yes! And some people might think that I am wise (this remains to be proven) What is clear to me is that some of my past experiences, have helped me to understand who I am, to understand how stupid I have been and, ultimately, to understand how experiences, as bad as they can be, can help you to find yourself in a situation that you would have never expected in a million years.

Yes, life can be grey, grim and smokey sometimes; as grey as overlooking Freetown on a rainy season, as grim as having to deal with demons from the past on your own, hiding from yourself, and as smokey as enjoying being in a cloud delighting yourself  on a blurred day taking the responsibility away.

Then one day you wake up. You don't have any other option than waking up or just let life to consume the little that is left on you. That is when it comes your point of inflection. What are you going to do? (WTF do I know?) It is then when you realize that life will be as grey, grim and smokey as you decide to be.

It sounds easy, I know. Then, I think is when 'age' comes in to play a crucial role in this part. Not because I think 'experiences' have made me wiser but because despite being grey, grim and smokey outside, it is bright and glowing inside. I learn not to complain and moan about my situation and just decided to install new software called 'urgent remedies'. Urgent Remedies consist of taking the damn horns of the bull in your hands and to be honest: Deal with it!

You would never imagine how surprising this is. Suddenly, I realized by doing this I have never felt in love before. Suddenly, I realized that the love that I feel today exceeds all my expectations. Suddenly, I realized that I am, actually, as happy as I can ever be. Suddenly, I realized that I have been stupid for so long that this has made me wiser. 

In usual T.S.R fashion, let me say great weekend bitches. As honored as I am to contribute to the Situation Room thanks to Cole Mutahi, this does not pretend to be a lecture or else. Just rumbling thoughts and self-reflection influenced by the grey, grim and smokey that today feels bright and sparky.

...the first person that is in your mind the moment you open your eyes after a long sleep, is the reason of either your happiness or pain...

I feel safe. I feel protected.

Regards,

Steph_Ben

Steph_Ben is not only a great friend to TSR but also an established psychologist and expert on some key/pertinent areas in the modern society. He currently lives with his partner and their adorable Txauri. This is his introductory article to TSR. He introduces us to a month long of guests whose articles will be largely based on very solid observations.

YOLO (You Only Live Once)

By Robyn Leaky Riri

CM gave me a chance to grace this week's End of week segment.I feel humbled to do so as TSR just hit 3 months after its inception. HAPPY -3 months- BIRTHDAY SITUATION ROOM!

I know and am pretty sure a lot of us have been able to live again through the articles and the guests.

The article about Abdul* this week is still fresh in my mind.It’s painful and disturbing that one has to go through such hell in the name sexual orientation.Just how wrong is it to love a different person? How wrong is it to be homosexual? I don't want to go there...a gay man's most important moment is when they decide to come out-identify himself as a gay person,meet other gay people,feel good about their gayness and perhaps adopt a gay lifestyle but in the society we living in? This is not an easy road-it’s an uphill climb, a long rough journey that leaves most of us hopeless and desperate. 

There are even times when every door will seem to be shut...times you will hear even your own self denying you...you try a step or a move you feel lost in direction...Abdul's* case and many others there are an example but do you have to worry? No one chooses to be gay and if it were a choice I believe you would choose it because it’s the life you are happy in...

 (Oh, your usual music treat is in order)

 

I know there are many of us there who are even in worse and mostly suicidal situations but babe letting anything put you down would be the worst injustice to your fine self. There’s an adage that goes: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger and I subscribe to this maxim. Some challenges have a purpose and impact in our lives. It isn't a smooth journey but you can go the distance without caring how far.

Be strong, let every mile be your while and mostly go anywhere. Do everything to find where you belong!

There is life beyond sexuality: Work hard, achieve your goals and show the ever available critics the best they can see from the little they think you have.

And as they say YOLO(You Only Live Once)don't take chances; chase your dreams and compete with the rest of the world...

 

Have a great weekend babies!

 

Robyn Leaky Riri


The writer is a burgeoning Journalism and Media enthusiast. Founder and manager of a vibrant  Facebook group: 'Palz Junction'. He loves arts, writing and having quality time with his friends.

 Twitter: @rhe_charlz

 

It could be any of us...you just never know.

You know, at times when epithets and homophobic slurs are hurled at us like Molotov cocktails, it becomes hard to put that convenient heartless bitch shell we always put without feeling irked. So, when Jo-C first called me regarding today’s guest, I had mixed feelings. I’m not an activist or a rights enthusiast but what I know is that I’ve sipped some ‘not-so-cheap’ coffee with a good number of them and also have a valuable category of them on my cellphone. You just never know when or where homophobes may strike. After a series of postponements and avoiding the whole dialogue I'd to make up my mind. 

This is a great kid with dreams just like yours truly and in as much as the emphasis may be largely monetary, there is need to look at the social bit of it. How many kids at his age have embraced social evils and practice them as fulltime jobs? I’m sure T.S.R has a wealth of avid readers who have ideas to move us a little bit forward. I’ve also spoken to some of our very own individuals who have a hint of how to go about it. I’m patiently waiting for their respective rejoinders.

I thought this could be wholly an interview (the way we do questions and answers) but then during our almost-an-hour phone conversation I’d to let him do all the talking with some moments where he had to collect himself after breaking down so I only asked a few questions for purposes of clarity.

  

The Situation Room introduces to you Abdul:

My name is Abdul*.I’m 20 years old. It was on Friday 20^th April, 2012 at 7p.m thereabout. I had a date to grace with this guy I was really getting a hang on. It was our second date. I was at The Soga Plag (sic) on time. We shared a great bonding time before we retreated to a room in a different location. We ran into a member of staff who was known to my partner but he assured me not to worry (I’m not living openly) and affirmed that we were safe. We never locked the door to our room. In the process of our rendezvous, the door slammed open! We attempted to take cover under the sheets but it was too late. The police were here. My friend and I were handcuffed and accompanied to the police station in our boxers. This was about 10p.m. I gathered that the staff member might have seen what we were up to and had called the authorities. There was nothing much the police could do being a weekend. The following day my mother called me to find out where I was since I’d not reported back home the previous day. The police explained to her the peculiar circumstances they had arrested me for and advised her to come on Monday.

Monday                                                                                                                                                                      

We are at a room and the police are recording statements from us. My mother arrives and gets further explanation on my arrest. She cries bitterly, she says that I’m a disgrace to the entire family and that I should look for another family! I have been disowned!

In the process, I sought some permission to go relieve myself at the washrooms. I escaped by taking advantage of some minor oversight of the station. I went to my best friend’s place. Apparently, the police had already been sent to look for me here earlier and I gather it’s my mother who had directed their search efforts here since he’s well known to my family. He gave me some money and advised I get out of Bujumbura to my sister who lived in a small town out of the capital.                                                                                                                                                                       

I did this the following day. When I got to my sister’s place she was surprised to see me considering it was a school day. She sensed I was hiding something but she never labored to probe further. On Wednesday my mother called her asking my whereabouts, she graciously disclosed to her I was staying at her place. I was within earshot of their phone conversation. She sent me away. I was evil and she couldn’t condone such activities in her abode.

I had hit a dead end but was still in communication with my friend who suggested I go to Rwanda to my brothers. I requested him to go to my home and get me some pocket money I’d kept and/or a few personal effects. He had to do this discreetly and pretentiously. He went like a normal friend would and asked my mother whether the police had traced me. He got my bag, a few clothes, Identification and some pocket money I’d kept in my room(He’s well known in my family and can access my room as he pleases, he’s like my second brother). He left without bidding my mother bye who was occupied in the kitchen.  

                                                                                                       

When I got to the bus station at Rwanda, I ran into a cousin of mine. He told me I was being looked for. I was convinced my brothers had already been called and briefed of my evil. I got back into the bus which was Kampala bound. I alighted in Kampala. At the Kampala Coach stage I saw buses heading to Kenya. I remembered I had a distant relative I call ‘sister’ in the Northern part of Kenya. I got to Nairobi very late. My ‘sister’ lives and works for gain in Kakuma Refugee Camp. I’d run out of money. I met some lady at the bus station and explained to her my situation. She offered me accommodation at her place for the night. The following day I called Jo-C whom I’ve known for a while since we met online. He was travelling out of jurisdiction on official duty. He was kind enough to lend me some fare to Kakuma. When I got to Kakuma I started asking around. I sought to know the refugees’ section. I found her at the reception where she’s stationed. She was shocked to see me. I saw no need to hide anything from her. I had to come clean. She insulted me and since then she has distanced herself from me. I am still stuck here in the camp. I’d just joined Varsity back at home after finishing my college and that’s my major concern. What I appreciate though about this place is the security I have from the people I fear finding me. I’m at the moment under the weather, been trying to seek medication through the help of a few contacts. What is provided here are just painkillers.

Cole: Have you been in touch with any LGBT organizations back at home? 

                                           

Abdul: No. As I’d pointed out earlier, my family is deeply religious and I wasn’t living openly at all even before this happened. I can’t go back home because I recollect a while back one of my cousins died in mysterious circumstances after being seen actively participating in affairs of the queer community. The burial was a very complicated affair and revealed the general feeling associated with being queer in my country. I don’t think I’ll be safe there anymore.  

                                 

Cole: Any new developments in your search back home? Have your parents tried to reach you or anything? 

                                                                                                                                                    

Abdul: Well, I’m still in communication with my best friend who helped me flee. He says my parents are still in pursuit of me. They have even reached out through the media. My partner whom we were arrested with is still in police custody. I’ll be grateful if this could really work for me since my major wish is going back to varsity at least to put my life in perspective through the Economics Science Degree I’d commenced. I haven’t achieved the refugee status yet, too much bureaucracy involved here. I have no idea even how to go about the paperwork. All I have now is a ration card (the one you get after the first interview) and some other necessary document to get me going. I’m openly up to my lips in water.                                                               

Cole: Okay, I may not promise much but I’m sure my forum has a wealth of readers who may have an idea on how to handle this; I’ll do this story just to see how far we can get. I’ll withhold your name and phone number but only provide it to those who really matter since I don’t want to expose you to any opportunists out here. I’ll let them reach me through my mail…if that’s okay with you.                                                                                                                                                            

Abdul: I’ll be more than grateful and thanks for your time listening to me Cole.                                                        

Cole: No worries, hang in there.

T.S.R Thoughts 

At 20, one is still young, susceptible, got a whole life ahead of them to figure out. My only concern in this story is the part where he says: ‘I’ve reached a dead end.’ When one reaches a dead end, they are capable of anything. Just like parents -affluent or poor- even relatives can fail you when they are the ones who you need the most. I’m aware I may be opening a flood gate to all the unreported situations. I pause here and ponder. This kid is a reflection of what could happen to any of us in this kind of society we live in as queer persons.

All I need is ideas here not the pity parties and sad smileys. I think we are technically his only brothers and sisters who won’t judge him. For his contacts or anything you'll first reach me(I have to shield him from opportunists who are commonplace online) on:

 

E-mail: Colemutahi@gmail.com

Twitter: @Cole_Mutahi

Facebook: Cole Mutahi

Or contact any resident LGBT Organization and/or individual here in Kenya since I’ll still have to deal with them regarding this.

Regards,

Cole Mutahi

 Abdul* is a native of Burundi; a burgeoning young man in his prime. He’s currently seeking refuge in Kakuma after being on the run from his homeland. He ably deciphers his mother tongue, Rwandese, French, Swahili (which T.S.R used for purposes of this story) and only some little bit of English.
*  (Real name withheld for discretion purposes)