RANTINGS OF A RANDOM (Gay) NIGERIAN (Entry 22)

After the US Supreme Court made the landmark decision to legalize gay marriage across the 50 states of America, there were lots of reactions across the world. Nigeria in its true fashion went ballistic, mostly with people condemning the ruling and saying all manner of horrible things about the country. The hate that was spewed online could actually bake a cake. America was called godless, satanic and all, even by people who had applied for American visas several times and would move to America in a heartbeat.

I went on the attack, hacking down any hateful comment that made its way to my timeline on all my social media accounts. I did not care whatever impression these commenters had about me. I just attacked and hacked at every homophobic post that I saw till I got exhausted and realized it was really no use. Just as Khaleesi has often pointed out, homophobia is entwined in the DNA of Nigeria as a nation. So I gave up and resorted to blocking/deleting. If I saw any hateful comment or post, I either unfollowed its owner or blocked him. And by the middle of the day, I had deleted over 12 contacts on BBM alone and was looking forward to a no-negativity internet experience.

KIZITO SPEAKS VIII

Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do… 🙂 lol.

I love singing! There’s not a moment that passes by without me singing or humming or making musical sounds. I’m musical like that… Speaking of singing, that’s what choristers do! And speaking of choristers, there’s the one I’ve introduced you all to. His name is Donald.

I had no inclination toward him, but he felt a lot for me. At first, he was a pest. But overtime, we became acquaintances – close ones. We went for rehearsals together, went home together with Peju. She’s the third in our humorous clique. It was always fun walking home with them sha. Always. Sometimes, we’d have a few other people join us on our walk home. And a few other times, it was alone with Donald. Hmm. Our talks were different, awkward, and other things. Queer talk and gossip. And it was also “Gimme a chance” time. *sigh*

RANTINGS OF A RANDOM (Gay) NIGERIAN (Entry 21)

Hello guys, not that this is necessary, but all the same, I want to clarify that this journal is not a weekly account of my life. Therefore the things I write about every Wednesday are not things that happen between Wednesdays. Some of my entries are weeks apart because I am constrained by space to write everything as they happen.

I had a terrible week, and by the time Friday came around, I was totally exhausted. We had auditors from the regional office around, looking into the books, and everybody was understandably on the edge. My boss kept snapping at everyone as these men pored over every financial detail. And at a point, I secretly wished I could poison their coffee. So I was more than happy when Friday came and I called it a week and headed home to a cool bath, a good book and some coffee.

The +++ Journals: Entry V

It has always been easier to play the class clown. I learned much earlier that it was a good defence mechanism; the best way to hide my disappointments, rejection and worries. So it came as no surprise to me when I tried to downplay my new status and brush it off my back.

Upon our return from Daberechi’s lab, Josh and I hung out like we would do on a lazy Saturday: we dined on Josh’s spicy jollof rice he referred to as Mama’s special, watched reruns of our favourite shows and went out for a meet-n-drink with a couple of friends when the sun set.

There was cold beer and up-tempo music, with, of course, Yours Truly playing the role of the king’s jester and endeavouring to make everyone laugh. I think it was and still is a good distraction – focusing on everyone else and living in the moment. Besides, if I decided to stay at home and stew, it would not change my circumstance. After one too many bottles, I went home feeling optimistic about life and the road ahead.

RANTINGS OF A RANDOM (Gay) NIGERIAN (Entry 20)

Today I will be talking about one issue only which has been on my mind for a while and which has formed the crux of many arguments I have had with my friends.

I grew up with many boys – nine boys in total – because daddy had a few sons and took in every stray relative who needed a place to stay. Growing up was always noisy and androgen-filled. And then, as we hit puberty, I started going out with my plenty brothers and we began testing the waters of our raging heterosexual hormones. And all the while, I kept my budding awareness that I liked boys a secret, well and truly hidden by the strength of my mortification.

I eventually lost my virginity to our house help. Her name was Ogonna. I was about fifteen, she was twenty. I had seen a few porno movies in VCR (is that still around?) so I experimented with what I’d seen with her. The first attempt was a disaster, and I came in less than two minutes. *covers face*

Eventually we started having sex regularly after everyone went to sleep. And then, Mommy found out (Actually I was not the only one giving it to her; in a house of ten boys… Go figure), and she was sent home.

I went on to lose my second virginity (is that even a phrase?) to a guy when I was nineteen. The experience was electrical, like an explosion in my brain. And I haven’t looked back since.

Carl’s Existentialism VI

Is it crazy that some of my favorite poems are about death and finding solitude? Maybe it is because I’m not overly exposed to a wide variety of poetry. Or it’s because there is something about loneliness that attracts me. Perhaps, it is the safety and comfort it offers, with the satisfaction that no one can hurt me in my bubble. Or maybe it’s my sheer curiosity, born out of nothingness.

Two of my favorite poems right now are I Am! by John Clare and Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye.

From I Am!, my favorite part is:

What’s On Your Mind… VI

A few months ago, a certain KDian was published with a story about his friend who is a good dancer and who intended to partake at a campus competition. This KDian was worried that since his friend is effeminate, his dancing at the competition might draw unnecessary attention to him and perhaps confirm the speculation and rumors about his sexuality, and then he, being close friends with the dancer, would automatically be tagged as gay.

As someone who has become comfortable with his sexuality and in his own skin, it’s easy to dismiss these concerns with an impatient wrist flick. But then, I remember my days at the university, when I was scared to death of anyone even having the slightest flicker of suspicion concerning my sexuality. I was so obsessed with covering up my tracks and ensuring that no one ever had any reason to imagine that I was anything but heterosexual. I devoted enormous energies and resources into being “one of the boys” at the expense of my true self. Apparently my efforts didn’t go far enough, because a few gay gays with very functional gaydar ‘sniffed’ me out and would occasionally come over to ‘say hi’. My response, driven by blind panic, was usually the same – a frosty countenance, and an inward prayer that no one was observing me interact with these ‘gays’.

Kiss And Tell (Entry 2)

The National Youth Service Corps is a period of serving one’s fatherland. Corpers are usually exhorted to be industrious in this service, making sure to be very dedicated in all you do, and endeavouring to bring satisfaction to both you and your community.

I simply LOVED serving my fatherland. I served him well.

I embarked on my NYSC in 2009; I was posted to Nassarawa State. My place of primary assignment was in a secondary school, and I was assigned to teach Biology to SS2 students. But then, I had my eye on one SS3 boy named Daniel. He got my attention by the sheer force of his size. The guy was the biggest in his set, a veritable hunk. He was nineteen then, but looked like a twenty-five-year-old in size. About 5″10 tall, broad shouldered, dark-skinned, with a large chest the size of a small football field. He was that kind of chocolate bar you just want to keep nibbling and biting and licking all day long. And he was also very respectable and down-to-earth.

RANTINGS OF A RANDOM (Gay) NIGERIAN (Entry 19)

It was on a Tuesday morning that I saw the email and I instantly became uncomfortable with it. Something about it did not sit right with me. One of my very senior bosses wrote a mail to my direct boss on a particular deal that we were working on with some government agency, and he specifically requested for me to work on the deal. In fact, he wrote in caps: ‘DENNIS SHOULD BE ASSIGNED TO WORK ON THIS PROJECT, AND I BELIEVE THAT HE WILL BRING ABOUT A BREAKTHROUGH.” After sometime, I shook off the uneasy feeling and told myself instead that I was being given more responsibilities, which was an opportunity to prove myself again and maybe snag another promotion.

To be honest, the amount of money involved in this deal and the levels of access to government officials required was higher than my cadre. But if my boss believed I could nail this, then – by God! – I would.

The +++ Journals: Entry IV

“We are going on a road trip!”

Josh laughed. It felt good to hear his throaty chuckle after a long time. (For someone who I was constantly in communication with, a few days without speaking or chatting with him always seemed like an eternity)

“Road trip ke? Where we dey go?” Josh replied with a yawn.

“Egbeda,” I deadpanned.

“Mumu!” he burst out with another laugh. “You have started throwing shade again ba, this early morning.”

“Haba! I am not throwing darkness of any sorts, oga. But really, anything beyond the Third Mainland Bridge is a road trip and I will not apologize for it!” I retorted.

“For your mind, you sef, you are forming Island Big Gehz, ba? You don’t even live in Old Ikoyi, Parkview or Phase 1 o! Your house and Epe, no difference. Dey there dey deceive yourself.”

I let out a hearty guffaw. It indeed felt good, talking to Josh.