You were born here, in this gentle little town where traffic means six cars, each two kilometres apart, cruising to their destinations five minutes to schedule. This gentle little town where birdsong on the windowsill heralds the mornings and the whoosh of the wind through cashew and mango trees is the height of noise pollution; where you attended secondary school with the same peeps from primary school; where fifteen of your schoolteachers belong to your modest church of decent folk straight from a daytime soap opera and each time they said hello to your parents after service, you tensed, expecting them to report a misdeed from school; where the only Mr. Biggs place is located three local government areas away from home and KFC, Shoprite, the cinema and GAYS are simply unheard of.
It is for the last of that list above that you should leave your small town, if you are gay. Homosexuality is a modern invention, you see, a by-product of (Western) civilization; researchers have long concluded that the more local a place is, the less likely TBs exist there. Go to your village or any of these small towns like, uh, Ajaokuta – that’s where we have the decrepit steel company in Kogi State, right? – do the inhabitants look like they know what QAF, The DL Chronicles or The L Word are? Do the guys there carry man-bags? Have you ever heard of TBs in Jigawa State or Okitipupa? Ok, remember when 2go was reigning…did anybody ever type in THAT chatroom: Manly bottoms in Chibok add me I got it big… Or Akoko-Edo guys let’s meet now. Like seriously.
Please do not dull yourself, otherwise OYO is your case.
When you come of age and are sure you’re gay and are set to settle down in life, look outside your gentle little town. Ignore whatever offers you get from Mrs Kolade, whose husband taught you geography in SS1. Say, despite your degree in civil engineering, you don’t have a passion for that opening in the construction company Mr Johnson talked about – nah. Tell him you are connected only to Jesus when he assures you he will get you the job without a serious interview. Look to the cities for options, because it is vital that whatever you do, wherever you find yourself in life, you have rich prospects of getting laid on the regular.
In the city, there’s Shoprite, there’s Silverbird, there are elevators (yeah, elevators) and, if you’re lucky, there might be a beach – not that crayfish lake back where you come from. By the way, you know what they say about TBs in cinemas and water-based places (e.g. swimming pools)… they are like ants congregating around a cube of sugar. ONLY in the city.
Now, make your choice of city very carefully. If you want your market to sell like hot cakes – literally! – Port Harcourt, Lagos and Enugu are the cities for you. The thirst in these cities is REAL! But if you are scared of being known too quickly, stay away from Enugu and even Owerri. These are cities too, but you really can’t get lost in them, like in Lagos. I mean, before you’ve sat on five poles, you are already a household name in the whole of Nekede, and you don’t want that, do you?
Let’s not forget Abuja. The beauty of Abuja is: it’s a city all right but you can find enough serene, sedate even village parts, just like what you’re used to. It’s not an overly crowded city, people are moving jeje, nobody is looking for anybody’s trouble, you can do James Bond with your car as the roads are generally free…and what’s more, it’s the best place to play in the big league: senators, ministers, top civil servants, the Vice President…
But maybe you hate city life: heavy traffic, pickpockets, jumping in and out of jangly buses, corridor-sized apartments, stress… Calm your tits, there are saner options: peaceful towns with a bit of life and plenty of market as well. Nsukka. Ibadan. Zaria. Benin. Ago Iwoye. Uturu. Notice anything? A pattern? Right. University. These are all university towns. Universities open up hitherto Neanderthal jungles into places where somebody can actually live, attracting people from all over, sprouting businesses in and around campus, including that row of ten rooms a moneyed son-of-the-soil built and dubbed a five-star hotel. About university towns and the people in them, my great-grandfather used to say: “Where two or three students are gathered, there must be spirit of TB.” The old man ain’t never lied, I tell ya! This advice works best for those who like their boys fresh, sweet, Mohawk-spotting and iPhone-totting.
Remember: in all you do, no matter how tough the hustle gets in the big city, if you are sure you bat for our team, never, ever, contemplate going back to that gentle little town you came from because, after all said and done, there are no gays there. ■
Written by Absalom