I was about nineteen when we first met. His name is Sydney. I had just started my pre-degree program at the time in my current school. I was new to the place and wanted to meet new people. 2go Men’s Lounge was my next port of call. His username had something like ‘frenzy’ in it, and I remember thinking to myself, maybe we’d get to have frenzied sex if I liked him enough. We chatted a while, exchanged pics and then he called saying he’d like to meet. I was more than happy to oblige. I told him I was in class at the time and would see him on my way home. After lectures, I called him and got directions to where he wanted to meet and was glad that it was a public place – a guestroom-cum-whorehouse close to school. I got there and was having a drink when he came. We exchanged greetings. He sat down for a bit. There was a bit of a lull, that kind you get when two people who haven’t decided how to relate with each other meet for the first time.
Then, he stood up and said he forgot his keys and was going to get them. I was stunned. What a lame excuse. Forgot the keys where exactly, when he was just coming from his room? I was at the time quite chubby, and I understood that not everyone was into that. But heck, I had sent him a couple of pictures, and if he was not Blind Bartimeus, he should have been able to tell. I told curtly him to go and got up to leave too, I was really pissed. Later that night, I gave him a well-deserved piece of my mind for being such a time-waster. He deleted me from his contact list after that.
The sensible thing for me to do would have been to delete him too, right? Wrong. For some inexplicable reason, I left his contact on my list, although I created a group I labeled “Z” and threw his username in there.
Fast forward in time, two years later, I was an undergraduate in the same school and was pretty much celibate after realizing that every gay guy knew who and who slept with who and whoever else in my school. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I had my fair share during my pre-degree days.
Know what I did? I added Sydney back on 2go and he accepted my request. We got chatting and he seemed interested. I was a lot trimmer then, and I explained who I was. He apologized for being such a dick before and was willing to make it up to me. He said he was in Port Harcourt at the time, NYSC and stuff. And as though the devil really wanted to catch me, I was going to be in PH to get something important from home the next day. I decided to go and see him. I got home and grabbed what I came for and went to my best friend’s house, where I shacked up while waiting for his call.
It came two days later. By then, I was ready to go back to school and I told him so. He said I could come to his place and leave from there. It didn’t seem like a bad idea to me. I was at Ada George and he was at Nkpolu Junction on Choba Road, which meant getting to Rumuokoro would be a piece-o-cake. I packed my stuff and left my best friend’s at about 3pm, got to Nkpolu Junction, and called him.
And then, there he was, looking better than I remembered. Initially, I hadn’t been too interested in having sex with him; I’d planned to give him some serious head when the need for intimacy arose. I love sucking cock. But there and then, I started thinking to myself that the head might just turn into ‘a roll in the hay’ if his bed was made of the stuff.
We took a short ride to this compound, one which he said was his friend’s place.
I looked at him, puzzled, and he said I shouldn’t worry, that his friend was not around. There were people everywhere when we got to the house; it was one of those Ikwerre Face-to-Face style houses. The environment made me a little uneasy. But then, I thought, what was the worst that could happen with all these people here, right? Well, again, Wrong!
We got to the room and he told me to feel at home. At this time, I don’t think there was any spidey sense tingling anywhere. I took off my nice green jacket and hung it up. He said to feel at home, I sure was going to do that. He left to bring La Casera and I gulped it down. It was a hot day, and the drink was chilled.
Then this guy popped his head in.
They had a normal friendly conversation and I figured the guy was a friend who wanted to check out his buddy’s latest conquest. If I wasn’t so dark, you’d have seen my blush at the thought. I told him I had to go soon since I was planning to return to Owerri that evening. In my mind, I was thinking, let’s get to it already, I’m on a schedule.
Then he said he was going out to get something, and when I asked what, he said ‘condom’ with a smile.
It didn’t occur to me at the time that maybe the condom should have been in the room prior to my arrival.
It wasn’t long before the next thing I knew was my face getting punched in. Yeah, the door swung open, and guys started tumbling in. One punched me square in the face, another followed with a slap, and yet another dragged me to the ground. When I recovered from the first dazing assault, I finally got a good look at them, five of them, one of them looking really young. They told him to go and stand watch.
I summoned courage to ask what was going on, and Sydney lashed out a slap at me, before announcing to the others, “See am, na the homo boy be this,” as if we needed to be introduced. Then the beating started, one of them was with a cutlass and used the flat surface to beat me, all the while threatening to cut me with it. I begged and pleaded, and they eventually stopped. They said they were students of my school that were on IT training. They asked if I was a cultist in school, and I said no.
Then the humiliation started, they told me to strip off my clothes, threatening to call some police guy. I resolved there and then that I didn’t want the police involved. By this time, all erotic thoughts had vanished from my mind. However, one of them saw the precum that had pooled around my member and mentioned it, and they all laughed mockingly at me. Then they started taking pictures of me, while one other was making a video, asking me how I started.
This was when the tears started to really flow. I was so humiliated and ashamed and scared, for my life and at being found out. The cutlass guy wanted to even cut my ear as a lesson. They took my two phones, went through my bag and took a friend’s phone which I was supposed to sell in PH; they took my perfume, watch, belt, and then they happened on my most important possession. It was what I had gone home to take. A ‘My Clear Bag’ that contained ALL my original documents that I was to use to apply for a scholarship – WAEC certificate, Birth certificate, International Passport, Admission letter etcetera, I mean ALL literarily.
I had only N1500 on me; it was more than enough to get me to school. So they said I had to bail my documents. I knew I was really screwed. One of them saw that I had an expired visa to the UK and said, “Oh so you travel abroad to sleep with oyinbo men abi?” I told him to check, that I had not used the visa because the timing was bad. It was then they told me to call my parents. I told them I couldn’t and got beaten some more. I begged them to let me go and they agreed on one condition; I was going to leave my documents and bail them with N30, 000 whenever I was ready. One of them called my father just to confirm, and threatened to call him back if I failed to show up. I was so ready to leave the house and I agreed. Then one of them led me through the back of the house, past the back of some other houses, to the road, telling me sorry all the way. His compassion really salted the injury I felt from the assault. God! I wanted to just kill him there. I wanted to scream at him that I didn’t need his sympathy.
I was still crying when I got to my best friend’s place. There was no going back to school for me that day. I was drained completely. I cried the whole night. Then I went back to school the next day. My friend was going to give me the N30, 000, but it rained that day, and I somehow lost the number they had written down for me to call because of the stormy day.
I told my friends in school a crazy story of how the bus I was travelling in was robbed on the road and how I must have lost my document when they were searching our bags. My friend was able to get his Blackberry back, through some Netqin application, from a girl they probably sold the phone to.
It’s been two years since this happened, and I still don’t have my documents, and I have not told my parents either. There is just no good way to say it, either truth or lie. And so, this kito story still haunts me very much.
Written by Brian Collins