A Kito Story Gone Wrong . . . Or Right

It depresses me when I read kito stories of brothers who are bashed, battered, robbed and extorted by unscrupulous human beings whose final resting place is as much in hell as the rest of the Nigerian public say ours is. But it’s one thing when an anti-homosexual lot entraps a gay man. When the entrapment is orchestrated by a fellow gay man, it hurts. It burns like a wound inflicted by a pressing iron, and which is so searing it promises to take a long time to heal. Someone once said on this blog that there’s a special fiery hot place in hell for such disloyal brothers. I believe that. I also believe that such hell can be manifested for them right here on earth.

That is why this kito story I’m about to narrate is one I savoured with great relish when I heard it.

This story happened to a friend. He is from Mbaise, a local government area in Imo State. He lives there with his folks, who are well-to-do. He met some hot guy online, one so attractive he developed the hots for him. After some chatting, they decided to get together. A hook-up date was made. As is usual with most Kito cases, this online hot acquaintance of his said it would be better if they hooked up at his place. And so, my friend went over, and before long, they had gotten down to business.

And then – boom! – the hoodlums who had been lying in wait barged into the room, and set about beating my friend up. The money he had on him was taken, and since he had his ATM card with him, they were able to finagle the money he had in his account as well. His phones and other valuables were also stripped off him.

Then they got greedy. Seeing as he’s from a wealthy home, they took compromising pictures of him, and told him they would release him to go get more money for them, or else they would make the pictures public. The dude agreed, and a date and venue was fixed for the money collection.

But my darling friend isn’t stupid. And had the resources to get back his pound of flesh. He set about organizing some tough Mopol men, officers who he narrated his ordeal to. (I’m pretty sure one of them must have been his sweetheart or something) And the story was tagged a case of Kidnapping.

And so, my friend’s assailants, numbering about six, came over to the rendezvous on the D-day for their money, and were all rounded up by the waiting Mopol men. They were promptly whisked off to the station, all the while being clobbered as they had my friend. At the station, they were treated as Kidnappers, and thrown into cells. In a country where almost anything goes, you have to admire when the law, however wrongly applied, actually does some good. Currently, they are still behind bars, with a bail of 100k each hanging over their heads.

Talk about poetic justice.

Written by King Bey