Perhaps What You Need is an Ivy League Qualification (Then a Man)

There’s a new man in my life. The concierge tips his hat as I walk into the sprawling space that defines the Intercon foyer. I slightly nod my head in acknowledgement with a broad smile to recognize his aptitude. The establishment is slightly busy but in a decent way. The artificial lighting is grandiose despite the illuminating sun I’ve left outside. I make my way to the raised waiting vestibule. I take a seat in one of the antique chairs, look at my wrist and appreciate I’m on time. He always likes that. I fish out my phone from my jacket. I make a mental note of the luxurious wall hangings and works of art as I wait for my call to be answered on the other end. ‘I’m at the waiting lobby.’ I say then I stash my phone away…

******

Behind The Scenes

 BTS 1: Whoa! Haven’t I missed you? I’m itching with desire to share a lot of things. Did I tell you about the Karuru falls experience at the Aberdares in details? I don’t think I did because the last time I was here, I was one furious bitch but hey, it’s all in a day’s work right? There is also my first time experience watching a 3D flick in a cinema with a gentleman (fans himself). He’s just been spot on maybe I should turn tables and pursue him. OMG what about the  lunch date with a Chinese man at a place where waiters were absurdly insane for tips, no? Foreign men! *Rolls eyes* Let’s do this: How about I get my thoughts organized then we’ll try make up for the lost time. I guess I now have time on my hands until December (where I already have a cliff hanger to end the writing season) so I’ll endeavor to feed you with my escapades and see whether we make a lesson out of it. Tarry a second, I will be out of jurisdiction for a substantive part of next month but you’ll be in very capable hands. Someone wants to unmask me on my own turf. Yeah babies you will love him I’m sure.

BTS 2: In the recent past my trips to the theater have been on an incremental trend. From Birthday Suite, Killing time, For Colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow was enough (I’m still reeling in the honor of having met the Environmental minister in this one), Backlash etc. I’m no expert but my point is thespians in Kenya are doing us proud. The local arts are just so bold lately. Broadway material even! I urge you to spend some moments visiting the theaters sometime, take your baby (beau that is) there on a random weekend especially those rated Over 18. You can thank me later.

BTS 3: Some weeks ago I was at City Hall’s inoculation centre to get a yellow fever jab. Let me be honest with you. I know I’m a grown ass man but I fear pricks. Okay, that came out wrong. Let me rephrase lest my superbly matured gay orientation comes into disrepute. I dread hospital needles ever since I was very young. So when I finally walked into the room and the nurse administering the prick injection was ready, I told her to be gentle for her own sanity. She was done in seconds and I hadn’t realized. My face: Priceless! While at the clinic’s lobby waiting for the paperwork to be finalized, it really got me thinking. It’s interesting how when I first lost my virginity at 8 I managed to take D without wailing or even fidgeting and! I know I have confessed somewhere in this blog that ‘I can’t sit on it’. The ordeal a pretty boy has to go through. I think if I was to choose between a needle and man meat. The latter would have my total support but then ever had that scenario where you went on a first date, the guy was charming, you took somebody home, pretended to be watching some Queer As Folk before he got all touchy. You responded and the next thing you realize is that you are down on your knees - of course not to thank Jesus for finding him - then just when you have unzipped his pants and his tumescence finally springs free you start thinking Oh No, I’m protective of my man pussy! Okay, I don’t know where this is really heading to; let’s go to the business of the day, I got a project that has literally screwed my brains for the past two months and I got to go present after this! (Remind me to finish this next time)

******

David and I are seated at the Tribeka lounge on a random Tuesday afternoon (Note: I’m supposed to be at work) He’s having his pint as I sip my cold glass of tonic with some lemon pieces in it as we try catch up through small talk. The conversations range from me asking him why he was calling me the previous Sunday at midnight saying that he will marry me in the future to him talking about his ailing mother and ex who’s been hounding him. Men! I look at my watch and realize it’s 15 past five. Sensing my discomfort. ‘Babe, you want us to leave?’ he asks me. I agree almost immediately. He signals the waiter who responds immediately. Guys who at least observe working hours have started streaming in and so the place is getting busy. ‘Your bill has already been settled.’ He says. David thinks it’s one of his drinking buddies. When the waiter finally points the generous stranger who took charge of our check; ‘Isn’t that your boss babe?’ David asks. I almost piss in my pants. It’s the good Dr. Fuck!

*******

…I’m at a disadvantage here. I think to myself while waiting for him to come pick me. Is there a problem? Shouldn’t we have just done whatever is to be done at the office? What did I do wrong? But then this is a five star place. I’ve never been here before, maybe it’s nothing. A tall, dark and almost handsome waiter interrupts my wandering thoughts. I’ve been sent to come and accompany you to Mr. Tosh’s table. I almost choke on saliva. He’s being as modest as he always is. He’s a Dr. for crying out loud! My conscience wildly affirms. He leads me through a corridor that’s donned with pieces of Art whose price tags must have to be obscene. I notice a couple having their lunch at a deserted Bhandini restaurant. He’s probably rented the whole place for her. My conscience opines. The Speaker of the Senate is in a deep conversation with an affluent looking female companion on some table. I mean the bag is shouting Dior, no? We pass a banquet like looking area and walk into an open setting next to the swimming pool. He’s busy keying in on his iPad while talking on the Bluetooth device on his left ear. His long fingers that I have since concluded are a subject of my fantasies on a dry day are as always well manicured. The gold ring on his marriage finger glitters in the Thursday afternoon sun. He reeks of some not so cheap cologne. It’s a mild male scent. Designer I’m sure. As I approach the table he rises steadily, I notice the polished buckle of his belt. It’s a Gucci. My conscience warns me to get my eyes off that area. He shakes my hand motioning me to take a seat which the waiter has pulled for me. He takes his seat. His soft hand plants some not so godly ideas in my head. Don’t you just love a man with beautiful manners! ‘Do me a quick email, I’ll float it to her later today then furnish you with a response ASAP. Thanks.’ He disconnects his call. ‘Sorry Collins, thanks for coming. I hope I never interfered with your program or anything.’ He says in his deep American English brogue. ‘Not at all Dr. Anthony, I’m sure you summoned me here for lunch.’ I respond grinning and he smiles almost immediately. ‘You are the one person who insists on calling me Doctor in the office and now everyone seems to be taking a cue from you.’ He observes. ‘You earned it daktari and I have to recognize that.’ I respond matter-of-factly and he instantly beams. His plastic smile is priceless. How comes toothpaste companies haven’t made an offer?  I notice he only has a tall glass of some untouched white guava juice. He says he’d already eaten at the conference they were hosting from earlier with visiting guests and since he still had time and food had been catered for, he felt we can use the afternoon to patch up the work plan document in a neutral environment. I excuse myself to go to the buffet area from earlier. He rises! OMG I’m honestly reconsidering my dating patterns from today. I mutter inside to myself. The waiter accompanies me to the immaculately laid out buffet area we’d passed earlier. I see an exclusively Kenyan section and that’s where we are headed. After showing the waiter what to serve me, I head back to the table where he’s seated busy typing away on his gadget. My conscience takes me to the gutter. Admit it Cole, He’s bangable!  But… Fuck. He’s straight and he’s my boss!

Tosh Dr. Anthony* is a 6’2, athletic-bodied (probably from his soft ball interests at Tennessee), light complexioned, well groomed, (did I say tall?) man of African descent. Oh he’s Kenyan. He’s married (yeah, it’s that depressing) to a mixed race Kenyan girl from one of those champagne-sipping-when-welcoming-any-guest families. He equally stems from one of those well known names in the country’s legal system. At 29 he’s already armed with his PhD that is a year and a half old since it was bequeathed on him. A very spot on research consultant he is with a very vibrant social nature. Perhaps it borrows heavily from his mid town Nashville and Houghton Street exposure. He’s one of those privileged guys who never had to hustle for a job like some of us do after High School to chart our way forward through college. In fact (from my little online stalking expertise) I notice from his CV and LinkedIn profiles that while I was graduating High School in 2006, he was attending the Harvard Summer School seminar program on International Law and Human Rights! Jeez he was 22 for Christ’s sake! Oh and from his YouTube videos, someone is very passionate about social Justice, Human Rights and has a very fertile mind in Politics. An alumnus of Strathmore school (The guy scored an A), LSE (Masters in Law, Anthropology and Society), and clench your butts: Vanderbilt University (First degree in Law and his PhD)! Oh and just in passing; the soon to be defunct KSL. Yet he still remains humble and likeable! Honestly how the hell does one become a doctor at 29! He was introduced to me by my boss three months ago and the idea is that I’m to work under with him to ensure a smooth run of the office. He’s one of those guys I instantly clicked with and as soon as I got alone, got out my laptop and sent him a quick email that I’m honored I’ll be working with him. He thanked me almost immediately. ‘Thanks Collins, the feeling is mutual. I’ve heard lots of positive things about you.’ Read a section of the email. Aww!

This new man is probably influencing a lot of my decisions within and without the office in very positive ways. It is from him I got the inspiration to finalize a Degree course I’ve deferred for a year or so. Graduation is later this year. I’ll be turning 25 later this year so if I ever want to be a Doctor by my 29^th birthday then this may as well be a starting point. The dates I’ve had to cancel, the rushed dinners with friends just to rush and go edit that Literature Review paragraph due to some new information etc. It is from these two months I’ve learnt men are at large and won’t go extinct anytime soon.

How big are you?

After some deep soul searching, it is with a very heavy heart that these happenings provoked my thinking. ‘You’re a big shot’, is one of the comments we make when we meet someone we think is successful. In fact, I was very humbled to find out one of you is actually a real shrink recently over dinner. I’m no saint but some of us need to get schooled. I’m talking about the zega men around us who have got nothing to bring to the table other than their massive tools and/or endowed asses. I know in the past I’ve talked about gay diggers, professional students, high maintenance boys’ et al. I’m addressing those guys who sit at Envy or Gypsies and the moment they are aware that the guy they are cruising has actually done something outstanding with their gay selves, they look at him as a potential gold mine and strategies to get him are immediately drafted. The guys who when a guy breaks up with you, throws you out of his apartment along Manyani East road, advises the guard never to allow you in and feels nothing and then you have to locate where a jav is taken. The guys who are given some fare to make it back to the city centre from Westlands after a moment of sex. I even hear there is a French man who gives guys 20 bob to find their way back to the CBD after deflowering ‘em. Is it true? Surely, is it worth it?

Ours is a society when asked how big you are, your mind automatically starts estimating how many inches you have down there when the question only had something to do with the strides you’ve taken in life. We make fun of Hon. Kiraitu Murungi yet he boasts of a First Class in Law at Harvard while we are still stuck at the Hospitality or Beauty course we did eons ago and have never pursued it! We dream of getting cruised by the ilk of DJ CK who's living his life not realizing the guy lost a huge chunk of his youthful life making his billions! We want to be screwed by prime man meat in Karen or Runda but ever noticed you are still a visitor to these places and head back to your dingy one room dungeon that has posters of a shirtless Usher Raymond at the end of the day? Fine, you only date guys who drive a car. Bitch with tremendous respect, when will you also enjoy rummaging your man purse looking for your credit card at a gas station?

If the bar is that high when it comes to choosing successful men when we are in essence needy, what hope is there for that Dandora dude who’s struggling to make ends meet and still makes an effort to look for some man pussy or D? You do know they say when you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree; it will forever live its life thinking it’s stupid.

The curse in being gay in the modern century (forget the crap in Law and these seed sowing preachers) is that the competition is stiff. If you consider your pretty self the submissive partner or ‘honorary woman’, I hate to break it to you (and your therapist) honey, you’ve got to fight just like astute and sublimely talented women like Hon. Gladys Shollei. Same applies if you are the one who does the banging and you think you are the next best gift to bottoms. The days of a guy leaving you in his apartment watching series as he goes to work are spent. I’m particularly more concerned with how a guy you’ve been seeing for a while introduces you when you accidentally run into his boss or one of his professional acquaintances who’s not gay at the mall? What does he associate you with? If he only uses your Romeo or Man Hunt name then it’s a wakeup call.

Upset the Status quo

You may be a top great waiter, great actor, a prolific writing enthusiast, popular as fuck in the zega scene, an office assistant who serves tea to the bosses, a humble young man like yours truly who has the opportunity or goes through the agony of sitting next to a Dr. in a boardroom meeting and see him make the dissenting voices retreat on a document he authored! The status quo must be upset. A fully fledged gay man should never be comfortable. We are attacked from all corners but ours is a society when you build an empire, the gay side is automatically overlooked because everyone not only feels you are a force to reckon with but you can change their life. In as much as I fear growing old, the society releases fine, wet behind the ears pretty boys every year. I don’t want to be one of those characters who realizes when my time in the man market is spent I have nothing to show for it except a senseless disease or living in a ramshackle. Successful people never apologize for their success and that’s why they choose partners who can complement them. All the by the way ass or dick is just a minor distraction for them to get to the ideal guy.

Mr. Dr. Gakeri once mentioned to us in a Law class that Education changes how you perceive almost everything around you. How you think, how you eat, how you relate to people - almost all spheres. I know there are the occasional drop outs that have built their empires e.g. successful businesses and hired educated guys to make them look good. This is because they equally understand the essence. The rest of us who have to struggle to make it in life have no choice but do something about it. The best pride lies in the fact that you have a sore man pussy but it’s on your own terms!

*******

We step out of the Intercon. It’s 3.40p.m. The valet pulls over at the entrance in a silver metallic X5.  He steps out handing Dr. Anthony his keys, comes round the other side where I’m still glued to the car in front of me and is courteous enough to open the passenger door. ‘Please.’ The doctor tells me. I fasten my seatbelt. He engages the gears and we are soon on our way back to the office. He tunes into X F.M and MKTO beams on. I Know Right?

Peace Out!

Next week on T.S.R

“You look different. As in good different. We should be meeting on weekends.” He says as we head to the IMAX popcorn point. 

Cole Mutahi.

 

RIGHT OF REPLY: The Nairobian Article on Gays was Ill conceived and equally Derisory.

The weekend was phenomenal. What else does one yearn for after whiling away Friday afternoon at the breathtaking Karuru falls shouting on top of my lungs like I’m experiencing an orgasm and concurring with my friends that if a man proposed here, you’ll be damned for not accepting? I’d bought my copy that same morning as the gaudy gay headline was not something to ignore. 

Speaking of  gay, that Nairobian article on gays was a piece of crap. Okay, that was wide of the mark. Let me rephrase.

In shrink school they’ll teach you two things: Silence is a powerful non verbal cue. I use it not just when the ex calls a day after he drunk dialed me in the middle of a Saturday night but often enough. Just ask our immediate former President. You are also taught that sometimes you have to speak out your mind lest the feelings burn you within. As I was cut off from civilization (a.k.a Twitter, Facebook & extended conversations on phone) for 19 or so hours, I didn’t get to know the reactions it evoked but when I finally did, I was glad my opinions were accordingly shared. I was diffident to do this rejoinder as it’s not my style but after the third read, I was itching with desire…to write!

Over the recent couple of days (particularly last week) the number of times I’ve seen the word gay and/or Homosexual in mainstream media is impressive! I mean from the captions that ran across my screen during prime time News to respectable Newspaper(s) carrying out a story on the community! What more would you ask for especially in a society where minorities seek recognition year in year out? I momentarily pause here and do note that I’m cognizant of the Bible wielding – you should rot in hell – they should be locked up and burned – Kenyan views. It’s even a matter of public record that a Deputy Presidential candidate (as he then was) has in the past labeled gays ‘dogs’. Do pardon my language but there’s something about an opinion. An anus is her immediate sister so by default, everyone is entitled to one! But then, it is equally good to have all this rage against gays spewed online or wherever because it means it’s a debatable issue and people can no longer bury their heads in the sand pretending that it doesn’t exist. Just the same way the media enlightened you on women shooting porn flicks with dogs, two men in separate circumstances getting busy with a dog and a cow respectively etc. It also gave the recent cases of gay bashing some airtime. This emphasizes how the touchy gay topic cannot be watered down. 

It is against this backdrop that I’d wish to set the record straight right on an article The Nairobian carried out in its Friday issue dubbed ‘Rage as gays turn to dirty tricks.’ Fine, I saw quotation marks on ‘dirty tricks’ on page four but unlike the article run by her immediate sister(s) the Crazy Monday dubbed ‘Men who swing both ways’ and Daily Nation through her Saturday Magazine’s June 22^nd main feature, ‘Men who walk on the wild side’, I find sections of the story not only misleading and ill conceived but also in bad taste as it furthers the ignorance already prevalent among the aforementioned Leviticus – wielding Kenyans. 

Sensational as it may be, the Nairobian is not gutter press like some other publications we know. As a subsidiary of a well established business, it was in fact a noble idea with the recent change of guard at The Standard Group as it not only means maximizing sales but also leverage on competition by tapping into the market of Nairobians who generally thrive on grapevine before other serious issues. It has highlighted some very authentic stories that turned out to be quite informative. However, that its obsession with Homosexuals started with its marketing strategy cannot be in doubt. Remember the commercial (complete with recorded laughter) it ran on those two semi – nude men in a sauna when it made an entry into the market? 

Criminalization of Homosexuality validates the stigma, discrimination, attitudes and treatment against homosexuals in Africa. I’ll commend the author for his candid observation on citing the Penal code of 1930 as revised in 2006 and his being alive to the fact that activists (homosexual) have sought refuge in the constitution to challenge the penal code. I’m not a lawyer or even an astute student of Law but a casual glance in my Constitution booklet Article 56 is definitely subject to debate. Maina, one of my online acquaintances does opine that in Kenya Homosexuality is more a question of Morality and not illegality.  He advances his intriguing argument by saying:

 ‘Owing to relativity of morality, I feel we should be very cautious on criminalizing a wrong against morals. Just thinking, if I can’t be charged in a court of law for disobeying my mother, no matter how immoral it looks, then the same parameters should apply in the Homosexuality debate.  Homosexuality is immoral according to whom? And who defines morals for us? Christians? I wish our government could realize how expensive it is to police private conduct of her citizenry. The resources, time and energy used should be channeled to other worthy causes.’ 

 
For purposes of this article, I personally choose to distance myself from passionately commenting on matters of Law. I’m sure Eric Gitari is probably at an advanced stage in consulting and/or drafting a court document. The next exciting thing that should happen at the brown vintage building along City Hall way after the Election Petition is an Advisory Opinion on The Bill of Rights vis-à-vis the Penal Code as regards Homosexual Acts. Oh and while at it we could cite the recent DOMA ruling. No?

That out of the way, I’m now left with matters of fact that are easy to address. I soberly seek to attack (which I hereby do) some key areas that I feel the author misdirected himself on. I will do the same in three or four broad areas.

Homosexuality is a recruit-able habit.

With tremendous respect to the author and/or his moles; where and on what forum was it decided that sexual preference or orientation is recruitable? It is not only a very sad day for me as a gay man but I’m also angst at such a remark. You mean to say that in all the two decades I’ve lived as ‘different’ were because of someone’s scheme? Let me tell you something. Since I was 5, I always looked up to a male figure. I had a father and a stream of uncles around me but I do remember the ‘crush’ I had on the local chemist. He looked educated, well toned and just some sort of hero to me. My father boasted of equally the same and even better qualities than him. But it was different with the chemist. Sadly, I was just another kid to him. So at eight when I finally lost my virginity to an adolescent neighbor (male) twice my age, I never reported it to anyone as I never felt forced. It’s a secret I’ve buried deep to this day to my family. Believe me; I’ve gone through the motions. Prayer and fasting for the cup to be taken away from me, read umpteenth agony aunt columns, I’ve not only harbored thoughts of death but also considered the easy way out many gay men go through: Blame that guy for ‘abusing’ me and embark on a conversion journey etc. Epic Fail it was! See, when I had that first sexual encounter, it felt defining, liberating even. I felt ‘cared for’. I never stopped him. I was different. Come to think of it, I did enjoy it - never looked back.

If being gay was as easy as one would be recruited for a job (The Standard Group does have a rigorous recruitment hiring procedure) then probably I need to sit down my folks and put my cards on the table. Of course there are those cases of men resorting to this lifestyle as a means to an end and embrace it fully; I even know those who fell off the wagon of heterosexuality due to the charm of a gay man (trust me we ooze lots of that) and have never looked back; Vibrant male sex workers abound willing to pay taxes even; then there are the men who swing both ways, some decided to get a girl and wife her in their attempt to kill the strange feelings etc. My point is, the journey of a bonafide gay man or woman ain’t a walk in the park mister and a rigid straight person will never decipher it. Do endeavor to ask around, sit down a gay man over some Nederburg wine, rummage through blogs like this and if the worst comes to the worst bend over for a prick if need be (maybe it will work for you) I don’t know. I pause here and wonder, what happened to the good old days when research was a tenet of good journalism?

‘…aimed at recruiting more Kenyans into the habit, involves contacting people through suggestive text and Facebook messages…soliciting for sex from people known to be gay and sending pro gay messages,’ reads a section of the article. 

Recruitment through social media? Why does Mark Zuckerberg and his cronies at the blue bird company create the report user and block buttons? I strongly believe anyone on social media ain’t a novice. If someone (man or woman) sends me a flirtatious message and I ain’t interested. Isn’t it easy to choose not to reply or if I do, can’t I throw a few insults here and there to show my disapproval and/or permanently get rid of the shady character from communicating further with me? Maybe I’m not so smart but in my view, being a homosexual can’t be an opportunity - like a job - to be recruited, Period. *Flicks Hair*

The Homosexual Chapter in Kenya is a fully fledged ‘army’

Oh, really? The gay community is peculiar in its own way. We have a sense of togetherness but far from it. C’mon we are the ones portrayed as an illegal cult that needs to be gotten rid of. On the strength of that alone, we have no teeth. The best we can do is hide and the few of us who have made it into the spotlight fade as fast as they got there because there’s no backup from the rest of the community. Even our most vocal advocate (GALCK) as mentioned in the said article has seen its fair share of intrigues and challenges in making the community cohesive but guess what? We survive. It’s what makes a Homosexual man or woman. We are discriminated against world over. You know what that leads to? Being defensive. It’s our own way to cope in the cruel society we live in. You have probably interacted with a gay man. Maybe even interacting with one right now. 

I roll down with laughter and without mincing words do say, that author must be joking. A war? Really? Power and Resources to bring down…? Just stop. Honestly he bought that? We can barely organize a meeting without a few hiccups let alone a total war but now that he mentioned it,  I think it reeks of some concern that maybe (just maybe) it’s the Homosexual community’s cue to be more confident as the heterosexuals view them as an army of sorts! With my little grasp of the cold war in historical times, propaganda is created by a few people and you just need numbers to further it. Just like Kenyans who have embraced social media, we rant about our Croissants. Very few gay people are bold enough to further such an agenda. Look, we still put on masks in our so called red umbrella demos; we get little or no publication in mainstream media. What kind of army is that? What war will it win? 

Lydia, I do love you as a sister and fellow homosexual but do beg to differ with you which I hereby do on the averment that business ventures are a way of fighting back. The good author conveniently uses it to impress his bosses. Businesses are not a gay community way of fighting back. They show how a levelheaded Kenyan somewhere has identified a market, raised the requisite capital, gone through the motions of registration etc. and successfully taken advantage of the demand all for a consideration. It’s all the essence of being human. In a country that boasts of obscene unemployment rates among the youth, the author in essence should stop his obsession with the wares of the Pride Shop and laud the business idea behind it as it ensures homosexuals don’t go about recruiting the alleged ‘young people’ into the ‘Habit.’ (Gosh, I hate that word). 

Inadequate sources, shallow content?

 ‘Information obtained from local closed online same-sex forums, multiple interviews and gay rights meetings indicates…’- P.4 Paragraph 2

We talked about opinions earlier. I’ll not repeat my suggestive remarks but do feel the author took us for a ride. He gives us so much hope yet brings out so little.  Two or three sources don’t necessarily represent the opinion on the ground thus the ease in poking holes in an article that would have been incisive unless they are an authority on the subject under discussion and not emotive sycophants that are ready and too willing to fart opinions without a solid basis. Something about us already defensive people is that there is likely to be some chest thumping and sense of pride in small battles. We celebrate when Jason Collins, Frank Ocean and just a few blocks down the road, our very own Leo Mutisya (on Live TV) come out of their closets. 

It’s a milestone to the tough journey a gay man goes through. I’m alive to the fact that Kenya is still an infant to strides such as the DOMA ruling - may even take years - but such developments pave way for the quest for such rights. When the fullness of time comes, they will make our way easier.  One other reason the author should have disregarded his source is: If we do have power and resources to bring down establishments, why is it that in this time and age the homosexual community in Kenya is still battling with the issue of HIV/AIDS? Why does it still go to the streets every year during IDAHOBIT celebrations to inter alia demand for better care and treatment facilities? Get my point?

But on the Flip Side…

I will however agree with the author that to some extent gays have taken their ‘dirty tricks’ so far and probably rubbing their gayness on the faces of the saintly heterosexuals is uncalled for. There are always exceptions in every group and individualism is easily killed in group dynamics. Every reasonable person knows that. That’s why a homosexual can only cause a scene in a club because he knows his friends got his back. Clubs and other joints do occasionally advice against taking it too far and take action when prompted to do so. Personally, I abhor drawing any negative attention to myself therefore I don’t sympathize with those who have been ejected due to the flagrant display of their sexuality in such setups. It just doesn’t cut for me. I’m considering referring the good author to two guys well known to me who were ejected from Tacos (as it then was) as I watched. I felt nothing.

The author by doing such a sensational - creating article did not only do his bosses proud in terms of sales (It’s the first copy I’ve ever bought) but also sparked a conversation. Negative as reactions from heteros usually are after such half baked works, as aforementioned earlier, the gay subject sinks the point in that there are deviant sex ‘predators’ among them and so encourages debate. Remember when our immediate former prime minister ordered the arrest of gays? He had to shed light on what exactly his sentiments meant.

Finally, the author pulls a line that in gay circles is subject to interpretation and on the strength of that vocabulary alone he may almost be forgiven. 

In P.5 Paragraph 10:  ‘…slowly penetrating institutions of governance.’ 

The homosexual community is close knit and a web of almost everyone who knows each other. This one I got to give it to him. If he’d just furthered his research a bit, someone would be surprised how homosexuals have been doing well in different areas of leadership. Penetration into such places is by merit because like everyone else we go to school and seek to climb the corporate ladder. Penetrating also just reminded me that I’ve been celibate for 83 days!!! Outing Kenya, Anyone, who’s got some lube? - Strawberry flavored preferably.

May you live in interesting times!

Cole Mutahi.

The Straight Man Varsity Crush – PT 2

Prologue

Karenju puts aside his cue stick and spreads me on top of the olive clothed pool table. Our naked sweaty bodies rub against each other our breathing clearly in synch as we both burn with desire. Carnal desire. He reeks of male sweat typical of a construction worker who forgot to freshen up. I’m redolent of a musky scent courtesy of a mild masculine deodorant. I run my fingers through his short dreadlocks as he skillfully gives me head and once he’s done I equally comply stealing a few glances from him. His mouth has formed a neat ‘O’. He thrusts himself forward making his tumescence almost choke me. He steadily holds my head in place and gets down reaching for his wallet in his stained jeans and fishes out a sachet of studded condom handing it to me to do the needful.  He flips me over. I close my eyes in wait for the next ordeal and just then a phone starts wailing. I open my eyes and realize it’s one of my morning dreams again! The prefix number +40 (Romania) on my screen instantly sends shivers down my spine…

I reside live in stay in a huge two-wing flat in Dagoretti. It’s not a high end location though it's largely middle class. I occasionally spot some German recons on the feeder roads; there is the learned friend cum silver metallic Mercedes C 200 owner with hairy legs who lives in a duplex across the road and jogs quite early on Monday mornings; As residents inhabitants we also get to hang out at The Junction Mall which just like when waiting for a delayed flight at Mombasa Airport’s terminal 4 on a cold Sunday night is good for celebrity spotting e.g. Wahu leaving the establishment with an all grown up Tumiso in a silver metallic beamer or Risha, our resident event entrepreneur being chauffeured in a white 4WD pickup etc. All this as you sip your glass of iced Cappuccino at Artcaffe. On the front wing of my flat are some establishments including an exclusive Pool Table place where Karenju (the landlord’s nephew) hangs out most of the time. I don’t date short people but no one said anything about sleeping with them. Only time will tell whether he and I eat the forbidden fruit. Can I hear an Amen? Maybe it's all just in my head but the sexual tension between us is just too strong. My fantasies of him range from him accosting me in the hallway to the flat during a black out, tying me up and making me his sex slave in the rooftop that is still under construction among others that I may not be able to divulge here. Basically him doing bad things with me. *Hides*

It’s a bright Saturday morning. I get out Roseline after pumping some air into her wheels and mount the paper bag containing the suits I’m to take to the laundry on her handle bars. As I make my way down the stairs with the bike, a short, dreadlocked, chocolate complexioned man with unshaved facial hair in a black and white jumper and cargo pants that reveal well chiseled calves like those of a seasoned Manchester United Player looks at my direction with a broad smile. ‘Niaje Collo (Hi Collins)!’  I almost miss a step. Fuck!

*****

Behind the Scenes

So last week I was finally clearing my desk and some of my immediate former colleagues decided to go mushy mode. There’s Edwin who particularly decided to give me an incisive lecture on how I should now get a respectable girl and wife her citing my estimable sense of responsibility and ability to educate some little devils. I roll my eyes. Then there’s Bob. ‘We’ll miss you,’ he said. I particularly feel I should have at least developed an interest to know him more. I mean last year I was working with him in Mombasa and he’s the same guy who made me grace the famed den of sin Casa Blanca. But then he has a beer gut, drinks like a fish and he ain’t rich plus I hear he also has a weak loin when it comes to womenfolk. What a ghastly list of qualities! Wait, why am I even talking about him? Delete that.

The Madaraka weekend was largely spent outdoors. Saturday was shopping for shoes and a pressure cooker. I flog the bus while it's going downhill and since it's still in motion, the tout lifts me with both his hands on the steps instantly making me smile awkwardly because it feels ticklish. I think the two men seated on the second pair of seats from the door noticed because upon me getting in (the bus that is), I do sense they are checking me out questioningly. My inner goddess with its arms akimbo be like ‘Whatchu looking at?’  I sit my proud a** on a window seat adjacent to them. I liked it!

The Lunch Date…

I get to the city center and give Simon a call. He picks on the second ring and accordingly gives me directions. ‘Let me know when you are in a matatu (public vehicle)’ he says.  I decide to get into a supermarket at least to get some soft drinks, crisps and confectionery. I’m going to a bachelor’s house. It’s always good practice to carry something when visiting someone’s (boyfriend included) home. People may have been starving in that house and you may as well be the Jesus they need to multiply the five loaves and two fish.

The journey on the Thika Super Highway is smooth and being a Sunday it isn’t exactly eventful. I have no idea where we are going but carefully know that I'll be alighting at the final bus terminal. The vehicle makes a turn off the freeway onto a busy street and as it surges forward, I notice the area is highly industrial. The only familiar sight is Chandaria Industries just because the name rings a bell. In a few minutes, the vehicle halts. ‘Hapa ndio Baba Dogo (This is the place)’. The tout informs me; I make a further phone call and upon Simon’s advisement board a motorcycle that wades through a dusty road. I tell him to drive traverse carefully as I’m not used to being on these death traps. I also get to find out that public vehicles don’t access this road and the motorbikes operate until late. We finally stop in front of a flat that intriguingly spots at least a CCTV camera. I pay the rider and he bids his bye. As I make my phone call, I see some young men in a shade playing draught.  A tall, dark and fine African man – wearing an Arsenal T-shirt – finally waves at me from the first floor balcony and says he’ll be down shortly. He’s carrying a female toddler…

So Simon can still pull a manly hug while balancing a kid who already disapproves of me, what does he think; it’s a group hug now? ‘You have a beautiful daughter...’  I say to him as he finally closes the gate behind us. He has probably missed the cynicism in my voice. Smiling almost immediately, ‘…actually it’s my niece, don’t worry she’ll warm up to you soon’. He says. My conscience is twirling like Kenya Moore. As we enter the house I notice I can see the Kasarani stadium on the other side of the valley and once he has introduced me to the young and fine handsome man seated next to the window with a game pad on his hand and the lady who I immediately gather is the sister, I hand him over the bag of goodies. The diva of a child beams as she follows the mother to the kitchen.

I take a seat on the three-seater orange couch. There is a bottle of Blue Moon on the table and a bottle of black currant soda too. The screen is showing some paused game. Asked on what I want, I settle for some sprite (it’s among the drinks I bought). I scan the spacious living room. It’s naturally well lit with neat tiles of a floor and high bright walls. He probably moved in here recently going by the huge chunk of space. Carrying a glass and the bottle of soda, he serves me and sits almost next to me (Point). He replenishes his glass of liquor and asks me whether I’m interested in playing the game but I immediately pass on it offering to watch how they battle it out. After some sword wielding and several blood smears. It’s Game Over. I feel relieved. Men still play computer games? I ain’t old but really guys?

He recommends we watch the One O’clock News. My grasp on the ongoing Parliament vis-à-vis the salary interchanges with the country’s remuneration commission is clearly valued going by the nods I’m getting from the two gentlemen. ‘I see you are a gunners fan?’ I say to him feeling sententious on my ability to pick a safe 'man topic'. He holds his shirt with two tips of his fingers. The goddess has dropped the akimbo posture and it’s up in arms busy shouting Strip! Strip!  ‘You mean this? No, it’s my brother’s, in fact thanks for reminding me, I shouldn’t step out in it!’  I gather the brother is out of jurisdiction. The subject matter of the recent election petition at the Supreme Court is also palatable though it’s the only area where we hold opposing views until the sister brings a meal of white rice and beef for us to devour. The aroma is invigorating! Simon moves inches closer to me to make space for his sibling(Point). 

After the lunch I ask whether he has anything interesting to watch and just then a text message from my buddy Jo-C comes in. ‘Cole, I’m attending the European festival at Alliance Francaise from 3. Feel free to join me.’ I type a quick rejoinder seeking a rain check. He suggests we go out to get a movie citing it will also be great to familiarize with the area. I grab my camera and put it in my pocket. Simon walks on my right and the cousin flanks me on the left. ‘This is Lucky Summer. I’ve been here for a month now since I moved from my folks place in Southlands’. I keenly listen as he explains. Once we are past some dusty playground, we get to a very busy street. ‘Hawa ni vijana wa mtaa, wamependa madre (these guys are the locals, they love drugs and stuff)’. The intuitive cousin explains my interest in some not-so-Mutahi-approved young men seated next to an unfinished construction site. He points to me the famed Dandora dumping site on the other side of the valley. I feel like taking a snapshot but when he mentions that a slum starts at the end of the path we are in, I abandon the interest altogether. ‘Collins, ever been to Dandora?’ Simon intriguingly asks me. I shake my head in full agreement. ‘Yeah, I was there last year on my community health work side hustle…’  We take a left turn and run into a neat alley (well, almost) with some two beautiful block of flats and enter a kiosk that is playing some loud Luo music. I can effortlessly make out the words Nyathi Maasai until the lady attendant reduces the volume to attend to us.

At some point when the cousin is talking to the attendant, we are lost in our own conversations. Badmouthing former lecturers, I making fun of his bulging beer gut. He only smiles and rubs it with a vestige of pride. He forgot to remove the Arsenal T-shirt. The guy clearly loves his pints. He picks a movie, seeks my approval and asks whether we should leave(Point).

Conclusions

Ice Age 4 was a great animation to watch despite me dozing off briefly. Simon slept through almost the whole thing and only momentarily feigned alertness when I was replenishing my drink and/or when he had to enlighten me on Drake and Nicki Minaj’s voices. After the flick, he opens his playlist and starts playing some very depressing music. “Yellow Tape” by Lil Wayne ft. Fat Joe et al (Thanks to Google, now I know this). What a better way to crown an affirmative position of straightness BUT…

Shouldn’t a straight man be busy with his girlfriend or something on a weekend? He has since offered to pay a visit to my neighborhood when he returns from a work related rendezvous. I’m absolutely agreeable to it. The universe seems to have a way of always bringing us together. Perhaps he's shy and fears making a move. Maybe he’s that guy who likes taking his time. Maybe he's as straight as an arrow just the way my first instinct has already ruled. But his warm embrace was again offered at the bus terminal just before I boarded a vehicle back to the city center... Okay fine, I need to stop this BS of denial. A zega man can use a straight man for a friend right? God knows we have scarcity of these. Probably it’s the universe’s way of telling me that for once I can use a friend for a change and not just a random dick loving man in a Chelsea soccer T-shirt!

P.S

That Romania phone call is a whole different article. We can’t cloud Simon’s day on T.S.R with another High School blunder. Oops. I’m out.

Cole Mutahi

Next Time on T.S.R

‘Can I get you some ice cream?’ He asks after the movie...

…it is very important to compliment some of our men. I mean, isn’t there a saying that when you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life thinking it’s stupid?