Wednesday, 15 January 2014
Maheeda Doing Bad Things
Why Do We Christians Take These Nonsense?
Now the latest saga is that of a pastor in South Africa who ordered his members to eat grass like goats all in the name of "baptising" them. In fact, in other pictures, the same pastor was seen climbing on these people.
Dear Christians, are most of us so gullible that we can't say "NO" even when our pastor is leading us astray?
#MyPeoplePerishForLackOfKnowledge
Naija Babe Bares It All, Too Much Séxiness
When You’re Gay in Nigeria
A lot of times we believe that we’re
quite removed from certain elements of the west. Homosexuality is one
of those issues which exists in our society but we are often very quick
to handle it with a 10-foot pole. We don’t want to readily believe that
it is something that is around us. Cultural and religious restraints go a
long way in forming our mindset. However, once in a while we have to
stop to think about people who are not so directly removed from
homosexuality. Close friends and family of people with this sexual
orientation have to live, and deal with the stigma that society places
on their loved ones. BN reader Chinagorom Martin is one of such. He grew up with a gay relative and experienced first-hand the hate that was directed towards him.
In his mail to us, he mentioned that this brother and friends were going through something that society didn’t quite understand. He decided to write about ‘the whole experience and life: discovering your preference of guys, the uncertainties that brings to your heart, the fears of being discovered and all.’
In his mail to us, he mentioned that this brother and friends were going through something that society didn’t quite understand. He decided to write about ‘the whole experience and life: discovering your preference of guys, the uncertainties that brings to your heart, the fears of being discovered and all.’
With the passing of the anti-gay
bill into law, Chinagorom was inspired to write the piece and in his
words: “My writing is not gay activism. I write so that people may know
that life is hard for these guys already. The best we can do for them is
a little tolerance. With the bill and all that has happened thereafter
there’s close to an anarchy in this community and as a nation we have
enough demons already that we do not wish to add this the list.”
Please share your thoughts in the
comments section. We urge you to be respectful and not malicious in
putting your thoughts and feelings across.
When
you’re gay in Nigeria,your whole life is one collosal creationary
displacement. You should have been born in Europe or some place in
America, not here. Maybe He’d tossed you in Africa hoping you’d land in
South Africa but you look in the sky and it is a green-white-green.You
go to the mirror and a square-in-a-round-hole stares back at you. You’re
an anomaly, your very existence is an abomination.
Growing up you realize you focused on
your peers’ bulging crotches while they bantered about the new girls
they were cutting eyes at. But God forbid you were checking them out.
You were just admiring the zipper on their jeans, nothing more. Strong
as you feel it, you couldn’t be one of those things they call
homosexuals, those cursed, perverted, bedamned, anathemised and
hell-sure lot. Everyone hates and condemns them so you couldn’t be a
walking taboo, admiring guys’ butts. God just forbid!
For all you have heard about your
forbidden feelings no one has been directly spotted to be the same as
you and no one has checked in with you. You conclude you are alone and
carry your ton weighing sexuality lips-sealed, it is a burden breaking
your neck that you cannot put down nor mention. It is a live coal that
burns in your mouth that you cannot spit out. Then you journey through a
spell-casting novena and make many resolves, but six months later you
are where you started. Gay!
The more you think about it the more you
feel caged, lonely. You want to be in touch with what you feel, you
want a sampling. But you find yourself with no canvass to paint out the
emotions. Those like you keep to themselves and before long you take to
porn, ignoring the females and ogling every bump of muscles, every fleck
of hair on the stallions. That is the picture in your head when you go
to the bathroom for water and soap and an addiction builds, slowly.
Soon you get your first kiss and you are
relieved your feelings are twinned in some other guy. Then you hear of
guys who have been kissing guys. Same folks who traded tales of
heterosexual conquests? Ah. Really? In the next gathering you make your
own imaginary boasts. Finally.
After the kiss you battle thoughts of
eternal damnation and do more novenas, more self-abasement but give them
up soon you realise they did not make you less gay. And then a whole
new world emerges on social media. You realise you have been stuck in
ages past after you had those epiphanic chats on Facebook: two guys
commending your looks and asking for your cell phone number. But you
cannot, should not have guys making gay advances through an account
where brothers and sisters and relatives and colleagues are listed and
information says Interested in Women. So you create a phoney Facebook
account and name it something silly, something to draw in like-minded
guys. You name it ‘Fine Gboy’ and use a provocative profile picture, a
headless shot of your chiseled abdomen maybe. You block out all gay
suggestive profiles on your main account and request friendship of same
through the phoney account where everything guys happens and information
says Interested in Men. And there you select friends like you are
picking Adani rice . No effeminate-looking/acting dude. That’s an
abomination within the sacrilege your life already is. It is like
contacting hepatitis B after a HIV+ diagnosis. No students, too much
drama. Just working-class, safe! On your fake Facebook you are
introduced to gay websites. You sign up on both and plunge deeper into
the cultic hide-and-seek game being gay in Nigeria is. Soon you are
meeting guys located far and near, people like you, men seeking men, and
you bless the Lord for internet. Social media comes and communication
is more spot-on, guys are even closer; only you are horrified by those
guys who have filled in gay or bisex as their sexuality on Badoo where
they could have left the row blank. This is Nigeria!, you want to remind
them.
Gradually you hit the big 30 and the
question of marriage becomes inevitable. Your friends tell you how they
have to work up an erection to fulfill conjugal responsibilities to the
ladies they have spoused. You do not envy them. You do not blame them.
This is Nigeria! Everyone gets married. Everyone must have a child.
(Maybe you should marry a lesbian, you have seen some on some websites).
And for a fugitive moment you consider fleeing to Europe. You discard
the thought. But you pick it right up when one morning you wake up and
on the TV hear the debate on the senate floor. Not long after, your
sanctimonious senators anathematize everything gay and slam a 14-year
legislative seal on it. They have no idea they’d just poured fuel into a
raging fire of gay hate and signalled an era of terror for you and your
kind. Heterosexuals invade your cabalistic social media luring
your brothers and experimenting all sorts of evil on them. They are
brutalised, raped, robbed, blackmailed, humiliated on the streets and in
work places but they take it in good stride cause it is a lesser evil
than the 14 years imprisonment against which they cannot make a fuss and
which their antipathetic assailants quote for justification. You hear
of those stoned in the North, and of those whom are forcefully
exorcised. Quickly you deactivate your profile and are wary of even
previously trusted gay acquaintances. You get irritable at the lie you
see you have to live forever.
Nigeria, all 923,769 sq km of it,
becomes a claustrophobic space, it closes in on you. Now frustrated by
it all you hate even the air here and wish wings to carry you across the
Atlantic. You make up your mind to leave. You decide Europe. Or maybe
America.
Photo Credit: aliciabanks.xanga.com
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Chinagorom Martin Emeka is a graduate of philosophy from the Pontifical Urbaniana University Rome. He grew up in Onitsha Nigeria where he now lives. When he’s not reading he’s trying to dance or trying to write. He’s available on martinchinagorom@yahoo.com.
Chinagorom Martin Emeka is a graduate of philosophy from the Pontifical Urbaniana University Rome. He grew up in Onitsha Nigeria where he now lives. When he’s not reading he’s trying to dance or trying to write. He’s available on martinchinagorom@yahoo.com.
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