It was just
about one month after I arrived the US, when my host, my best friend and
brother,Tony Fasoore took me to a shopping mall in Providence Rhode
Island. It was my first trip to this part of the world and I loved the
glamour, the big cars, the big buildings, and the white faces. As we
continued shopping and window-shopping, I stretched out my right hand
and held on to my friend’s hand as people walking by in that brief 5
second move stared at both of us with disgust.
This was 25
years ago; anyone can do that now and get away with it. Tony’s reaction
to my gesture was one of fury and disgust as he violently shook off my
hand off his.
“Are you gay”? he asked me.
“What is that”, I asked him.
“Please don’t hold my hand, what is wrong with you?” Tony said.
I didn’t
understand what the fuss was all about. Tony had been in the U.S for
only one year, and had assimilated and “behaved” like an American. When
we got in the car, he started explaining to me what the fuss was all
about and what “gay” meant.
I was coming
from a culture where friends held each other’s hands walking down the
street and it did not mean a thing. (Probably now does). In my culture,
men are not suspicious of men like that, we just like who we like
without attaching some perverted sexual madness to it. Growing up in
Nigeria, we only talked about girls-their gaits, their beauty, their
looks, their voices- we talked just girls and it was refreshing to every
young man just to talk girls. Girls were like ice-cold water poured on a
hot soul, hanging with one, (in some cases two or more) was a
validation that you were accepted and you are a “real man”, or real boy
growing up to be a man.
Talking girls
and hanging with them was a confirmation and announcement that you had a
future that someone wanted to be part of. Of course boys hung with boys
playing soccer, going to the club and to parties. Those were the days
of “Kool and the Gang”, “Lakeside”, “Anita Bell”, “Teddy Pendergrass”,
“Peter Tosh”. Those were the days of baggy trousers (pants), monkey
jackets, high-heels shoes…
When boys took
shower together after a soccer game or table-tennis play-out, no eyebrow
was raised as to what the motive was. That was how to be a man, and it
was a good time.
I never heard
that word “homosexual” until I got to the US, and I was a practicing
journalist. May be I was not good enough, or had not read enough, but it
wouldn’t have interested me to read up on something like that. No young
man had time reading up on what is done in the animal kingdom. That is
why Nigerians are so unanimous in the recent Anti-Gay bill signed into
law by President Jonathan. Something is now bringing us together.
The signing of
this law is like Nigeria playing in a soccer match where there is No
Hausa, Igbo, Yoruba, Delta crazy babbling, we become One Nigeria, and
anyone on the other side is a perceived enemy.
Anyone on the
other side of this law is a perceived enemy of what Nigeria wants. What
Nigerians are now saying is “give your aids to other countries, hate
Nigeria the more, take us out of the UN, refuse us visas, move in the
marines and bomb us, kill us, and take our oil, but we are not going
back on this”.
The voice of
the people is the voice of God, Nigerians have spoken. I think Mr. John
Kerry should remember that only 17 of the 50 states in the US recognize
same-sex marriage. The administration should try to get all the US
states to go same-sex first before it launches out across the Atlantic
Ocean.
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