From where I stopped in the last article yesterday, "words for you"...
Simon and I have been friends since we were five. It all started out beautifully.
That day, 22nd of September was my birthday and my mum planned to mark it. Just as
we rounded off the assembly, my mum drove in.
Teachers flocked around to greet her.
She brought cup cakes for all my class mates and packs of juice. I was so elated to see
her. Our maid then, Sarah, kept offloading stuff from the car, and then I saw the gigantic
cake she bought.
This got me jumping. I could see the amazement of everyone. Not just my class but the
whole school.
My teacher asked us to sit in a circular position so they could sing the usual birthday
song.
Suddenly, Mrs Afuye, Simon's mother walked in with a big bag. The moment our teacher
ran to help her with her bag, she drew our attention. Surprisingly, it was also Simon's
birthday.
His mother brought two cartons of cabin biscuits, packs of sweet and juice for the class.
"We have two celebrants!" My teacher screamed and everyone in class was very happy.
From then on, both mothers became friends. The Afuye’s joined our church and became
one of the cornerstones of Better Life Church.
As for the both of us, it just happened that destiny caused us to love each other dearly
and genuinely.
He could come to my house and stay for weeks and even months, I also did same.
The church was still small so we joined the main choir as early as 10 and then Simon
learnt how to play diverse instruments and I started singing from there.
***
When it was time to get into high school, my parents decided that both of us would
attend the same school and this got both of us totally excited. Though, the Afuye’s
couldn't afford all the tuition fee, they gave their quota and my parents made it up.
I didn't add that my late mum later made Mrs Afuye the proprietress of Better Life
Primary School. It was still the church's property though.
High school days were one of the worst days of my life!
I started off as a border in one of the most prominent schools in Kaduna as at then.
People always had reasons to humiliate, bully, insult and embarrass me because of my
make - my mannerisms.
Rarely did I hear anyone call me by my name in school, even amongst my classmates.
I had the set of people who called me “Boy girl”. Another, “woman wrapper”, especially
the girls.
I had another set that called me “Gabriel”. I thought it was Angel Gabriel till I saw them
write "Gay-brell" on the board one day.
The humiliation was just too much to bear.
I would never forget when one girl, Ralia, the daughter of Senator Ahmed, said I was
born by mistake and an error in creation.
Boys mocked me and said my hormones were incomplete; the last thing that would
have made me a man was missing.
As intelligent as I was, I was still downtrodden.
When I ask people for something or maybe go get something at the store, I see the way
people mimic me as I pass. I hear the silent whispers; I hear the outburst of laughter
that follows any time I make a move.
I pleaded with my dad as he was the closest of my parents to allow me come home
rather than board in the hostel, but he refused.
Going to the bathroom, some guys would pull off my towel from my waist to see if I had
a penis. One day, blood was spilled on my bed spread and guys took it round saying that
I had seen my first period.
I had many other bitter experiences I wouldn't love to talk about.
But for Simon, I would have become deeply depressed and maybe taken my life. There
were days he literally fought for me. At some point people never insulted me when I
walked with him.
Then the talk about me being in a queer relationship came up, some people even made
up stories of both of us having sex in the bathroom and all that.
Yet, Simon stood by me. Never did he take their words to heart.
I thought that after the graduation ceremony in JSS3, having received several laurels and
being the student with the best Junior WAEC result in Kaduna that people would begin
to show some respect, but that didn't work.
So I shut down on people and stuck to Simon. I made a shell for myself and I stayed
there. I stopped answering questions in class. I didn't talk to people. I took all the insults
till I started becoming accustomed with them.
There were days I would cry to the LORD to recreate me.
I begged him to make me at least like Simon. There were days I stood in front of my
mirror at home rehearsing how to be a man.
I started paying attention to soccer as the boys in the hostel did but the hate didn't just
stop.
The moment you think everyone loves you is when they need food stuff, money or
maybe help with academic problems...the next moment you are the 'bitch'.
The fact that they say I sleep with men made me feel terrible.
One faithful day, I was walking along the corridor; three junior students were walking
towards me.
They were trying to make fun of me. They bent down like girls and said "Good morning
senior boy-girl"
I was mad!
I turned back. The other two ran off but I caught one. I beat the living hell out of him.
"Don't you ever...try...that...again..." I stammered, still beating him.
Unfortunately for him, we were the only ones around that day.
Unfortunately for me, the boy was asthmatic and I had caused him an attack.
He was losing his breath. Fear had a total grip on me. I rushed him to the sickbay.
The nurses asked to find out what happened, I wouldn't lie, so I told them.
My case got to the proprietor’s desk, my father was summoned and he had to pay for
the damages caused. Yet, I was still expelled.
I believe I was expelled because the boy in question happened to be the son of a high
profiled man.
Shame beclouded me that day. It's difficult to express how I felt that day in black and
white. It was not the worst day of my life but it was the icing on the cake.
As I packed my things in the hostel, I fought back tears.
My roommates didn't say anything.
I got in to see stick notes on my bed with sorry words and words of encouragement.
Then I got to realize that within those insults was love for me.
Simon knew of all that had happened but he couldn't see me because at the time he
was being hospitalized for typhoid. I didn't know how to face him and even my family.
My dad was a very popular person and I was certain this incident would make it to the
news the next day.
It did because the 'victim' was the son of XP, a popular TV personality.
The following day, I was driven home. I got into the house and as expected I saw the
house full of people.
They were discussing till I stepped in. My mum, aunties and church members were
present.
I knew what was at stake for me.
I greeted. I got the “hmmmmm” response.
"Drop your things upstairs. The driver would take you to the church, your dad wants to
see you...", my mum said with her face affixed to her phone.
"Bó yé má sé bí obínrín níyén - That's how he behaves like a woman", my aunt snapped,
looking at me in disgust.
I wish I could slap her.
"Ibunkun, shut up!” Mum clapped back.
I dropped my bag on the couch and raced up stairs. I cried, bitterly.
To be continued...
