BELONG

This is one of best ads I've seen in a while, beautifully shot and extremely well written not to mention the enchanting soundtrack. It made me almost run out and get a credit card and find the place where the "Value of Money meets the Values of Money" or so the ad goes. Above all it appeals to human nature and our need to simply BELONG.

If You Can't Fix It Then You Got to Stand It.

The title of this post comes from E. Annie Proulx's seminal short story Brokeback Mountain. It's a beautiful story and mighty heart breaking which I may review/ discuss at some later stage. But for now I want to talk about something else.

So I've been having an interesting couple of months. I figured I'm to damn old to be hiding in any kind of closet so I've been systematically coming out to people who I feel are important in my life. Frankly it's exhausting stuff and I'm half tempted to print up a t-shirt whit the phrase 'GOD MADE ME GAY, GET OVER IT!' written in glitter. Everyone has taken the news better than expected,some are shocked and to many I am the first gay person they know. I'm not yet at the point where I can say I'm openly gay but I think I want to get to that point. The question is then what?

Sometimes I question whether or not I'm gay. Sure I like guys, I like hooking up with them but I never had a legitimate gay relationship. I never had a boyfriend, meanwhile some of my friends are usually 'between relationships' I've never gotten to the point where I can honestly say I like someone. But I digress.

Growing up I was always a nervous and shy boy. A habit I am yet to outgrow. So the other day I was at a little soiree with lots of gay men, and even though I was with a bunch of people of my own kind I felt tense and nervous like it was my first day at school, like everyone was silently judging me even though they probably weren't. The truth is many of the people there were out and proud human beings. I felt like a fraud, a poser someone who didn't belong with people who were so obviously comfortable in their own skin. I honestly admire people like them even though every other profile on GAYDAR reads 'NO FEMS' these fems are some of the bravest and genuine people I've ever met. And that's something I have to fix, my self-confidence, maybe I'll get laid one of these days...

In Brokeback mountain the character of Enis Del Mar was left with regrets and memories after the death of the man he loved. That's something he couldn't fix cause the past cannot be undone. They lived in a different time and place and all he can do is accept things as they happened. I however can fix things or rather fix myself. I don't know how yet but we'll see. I want to live as honestly as possible but that is not enough, I'd also like to share my life with someone, I feel I should but I'm afraid of man things the least of them is being found out by my family, the greater one being that I don't want my potential boyfriend partner or whatever finding out what a fraud of a person I am as if there is a kind of perverse romaticsm to being single... Self-confidence right?

She Loves You, Yeah Yeah Yeah!

Kenyan gay bloggers are the most eccentric, bold, over-the-top and wisest people I have ever not met. A treasure-chest of wisdom and advice, and endless drama. I have been struggling with an issue that is not new tomost gay men in Nairobi - the Heterosexual Woman.

I consider myself a sorta OK looking chap and therefore it is not shocking when I occasionally (and very rarely indeed) get approached by nice girls. Usually my apparent lack of action (SHUT UP AND STRIP!) leads them to wander off exactly as they came in and peruse other men who will hopefully make the shut up and strip. This was true until I met (oh, let me see now) Toni (with an I). She was a pretty girl with a crush on me. Something Ihoped would wear off over time. It didn't. We had several mutual friends which meant we always me, usually in a less than ideal situation (me drunk at Bacchus, me drunk at Qs or her drunk at Galileos) one thing usually led to another and we would end up conducting oral examinations.

Kissing a girl is for a more a kind of perverse clinical exercise, it's exiting in a way I know is wrong but irresistible nonetheless. For her of course it was confirmation of my love for her (and she did love me). My friends were not impressed with my behaviour and the accused me of leading her on. Tamaku and Sinai Siaf are two people who have written extensively about this. I liked this girl but not in a way that wold ever satisfy her.

So one day, or rather late one night after several beers I told her that I like men. In the dimness of the bar I saw sadness cross her face. She was a good sport and took it in her stride with flinching or resorting to violence (or heaven forbid, tears). Again she said she loved me. I told her I knew. She said she would never meet someone like me and I said of course she will, she's young, pretty and smart. I also told that she was special and we agreed to say friends.

Coming out to Toni was the hardest one I'd done, and I'm out to a lot of people. The emotions involved had forced me to postpone telling her so as to protect her feelings, her pride and her honour. I destroyed that in one go, and it made me very sad. At the end of the day it was either me or her, she deserved to know the truth but I told her for my own selfish reasons rather that anything else. I did the right thing but at what cost?

We don't talk anymore and sometimes I think it's for the best. She'll come around one day...

Toni sometimes reminds me of Esparanza: beautiful, talented and bootlylicous.

I'm very grateful for all the insights that I get from all the queer blogs I follow. The made it possible for young guys like me to live out and proud. I want to thank all of you wherever you are for helping us live in TRUTH - a luxury very few of us can afford.

Some People Wanna Fill the World (With Silly Love Songs)

So Monday was V Day, the most saccharine, annoying and down right nasty of all (non) holidays. There were wall to wall roses and a general sense of false euphoria enveloped the air. I would have been in a good mood had I not been dumped on Sunday. The boy I was seeing, for at the end of the day they are all boys Mannish or otherwise, told me in that I was simply to good for him and that I deserved much much more including being alone for the umpteenth time on Valentine's day and forever more.

Perhaps the irony was lost on him.

He was a nice enough fellow, as nice as you could hope a Nairobi guy to be. He nearly worshiped me and perhaps he idealized the idea of me a bit to much but nobody ever complained seriously of being given attention. Plus he was cute and intelligent and sufficient and sweet.

So he was adequate.

And these days adequate is a PLUS. Way better than mediocre. The thing is he always felt like I was going to leave him as soon as something better came along and perhaps this insecurity led him to cut his losses and head for the hills.

So that's TWO failed relationships in as many months. There appears to be one constant in this equation. So perhaps I should give up whatever it is I'm looking for. In the mean time I'll gather my posse and we'll talk about all those silly TV programmes with their unrealistic plot lines and expectations and the silly people who want to fill the world with silly love songs. Easy FM and Classic 105 I mean you! 

In the mean time, here's my New imaginary boyfriend:

Other Pretty Young Things can be found here

And here is Sir Paul McCartney & Wings

That Spells 'Mannish Boy'

Now Nairobi has no shortage of Pretty Boys or Pretty Young Things -more commonly referred to as Twinks-. I recently met one of those. I was feeling kinda lonely and old and so in a fit of desperation I put up a profile on (que drum roll) GAYDAR (facebook for fags as my friend puts it). Naturally I had reservations about the whole idea. For one I am really really genuinely paranoid - to much Crime and Investigation I think and two no Disney movie ever started with a pretty damsel logging on to a computer trawling for sex. Anyway I threw caution to the wind and a bunch of other silly analogies and in no time I found HIM. We exchanged numbers, became facebook friends and I was pleasantly surprised by his pictures. Yes he was HOT, a quality that Kenyan men are not particularly known for.

We soon met up, he was better looking n person and had a sort of rakish air around him that oozed confidence and some to the effect that 'I'm the shit'. Anyway our initial encounter was OK - no fireworks there. We talked about general stuff, friends we had in common, family, where we went to school. And before I forget he was slightly older than me, OK 5 years older. Anyway as time went on he became I begun to realise how little we had in common. For instance he liked the kind of music that came out of a computer, I liked anything made before 1975. In fact the more we talked the older I felt. My Knight in shinning armour begun to look like a little boy - a Mannish Boy.

What especially annoyed and fascinated me was his self-confidence. For instance here one phone conversation went like this:

ME: Your good looking chap
HIM: I know
ME: Do you want to rephrase that statement, maybe think about it a little?
HIM: Nope
ME: I'm going to hang up now!

And I did. The cheeky little shit! I couldn't believe the ego and the nerve on him. Anyway I soon lost my rose-coloured glasses and saw him for what he was, a selfish prick. And then the voice in my head screamed 'The writing's on the wall bitch!' And sure enough the signs were all there. He once kept me waiting for him at a popular Westie hangout for 2 freaking hours without a call or text until one of my Girl friends hit me on the head and said "This nigga aint coming. Ebu, where is your dignity?" And she had a point, that and she was looking to get hammered on the cheap. Later that week he came up with some lame excuse that went something like "Where were you that night?"

Anyway the point of all this is that looks and age can be deceiving. The Mannish Boy like the one in that Muddy Waters' song has grown up in a bubble. In this case this guy's looks rendered him into a state of permanent immaturity. It may be true to say that we didn't hit it off and that there were not mutual feelings of giddy romance -maybe lust- but I felt slightly mistreated and maybe just a tad used. Anyway Nairobi s full of theses Mannish Boys and many people are oblivious to it.

Muddy Waters, the original Mannish Boy

As a general rule of thumb, if a guy or gal dosen't call/ txt and stands you up without explanation then you best be running in the opposite direction!

With God On Our Side

Recently I took a trip with my friend Tony. It wasn’t just the two of us but I didn’t care for the crowd I was travelling with. Now somewhere during the trip Tony went from Agnostic Libertine to Religious Fanatic and has been the same ever since. Now first thing first, Tony is a Muslim albeit not a very serious one. A lot of people who know him find this fairly hard to believe because he is a serial flirt and notorious womaniser and he drinks like an Irishman.

Of course all this changed during the trip, the town we visited was awash with Pretty Young Things and endless distractions so somewhere among all this sin and debauchery he suddenly had an epiphany, realised the error of his ways and decide to become good as the Quran clearly states. For some reason I felt uneasy with this sudden change of heart (and the fact that he was close to flogging himself in penance) so I decided to pick a fight with him.

For one thing Tony can be a cocky, sanctimonious ass – like most religious fanatics and worst of all a hypocrite (all Muslims are like this according to him). Here is a boy who really doesn’t mind getting head from a willing female but would never return the favour because of his machismo (if I was a girl I’d be pissed!) he clearly partakes of other ‘vices’ but sees nothing wrong with judging and condemning others. I was brought up in a faintly Christian background and I have a superficial understanding of the bible but I know one of the most important teachings is to love others – unconditionally. Another is to never ever judge another human being. Jesus was a genius and he’s teachings are profoundly simple. Tony obviously disagreed with me. He told me my worldview like Jesus’ was simplistic, unrealistic and narrow (I’m a humanist you see). Islam unlike Christianity is not a religion but rather a way of life. It is therefore full of complex rules governing the most mundane aspects of human life. I said God has bigger things to think about than minute, insignificant details like whether a woman’s hair is covered. He said the converse is true.

This went on and on for a long time. Each of us getting more and more agitated by the minute. His problem appears to stem from the felling that he is disrespecting his parents by being who he is. “Muslims” He said “are supposed to be better than everyone else”. I told but your human and you make mistakes. According to him that was another one of my simplistic arguments. He said that Muslim parents often don’t want to know what their kids are up to because they are supposed to be perfect. A good Muslim child obeys their parents and questions nothing. He obviously had failed at this and he was trying to redeem himself. “Even if it means lying to your parents about who you were.” He said yes. Apparently God could forgive his lies because he did it in the interest of his parent’s wellbeing.

Islam it seems is a religion of keeping up appearances rather than seeking truth. According to Tony that is. I told he should be a Christian since he wasn’t making a good case for himself or his religion. Since it was late I had to leave but I was unsatisfied with the outcome of the debate because it seems that Tony was debasing himself or his character in favour of an idealised persona and ideology. At some point I told him that he would be the kind of person who would throw out his own daughter if she fell pregnant. He didn’t deny it because in God’s eyes that’s the right thing to do. I guess that’s where our two religions diverge. Christina’s are obligated to forgive and love unconditionally. Muslims I seems condemn and enact punishment on any transgressors. I asked him if he thought this was right. He told me it didn’t matter as long as he had God on his side.

Obviously the both of us have made gross omissions in our pseudo-theocratic debates and that readers should forgive this especially since the both of us are not theologians of any description but rather disillusioned youths.

Fucking and Punching.

Si basi umfyeke! Manzi asha ingia box, unatake nini sasa?

Lakini sitaki kumkuta. Huyo manzi ni emotional sana. Amenidai sana!

This went on for a while. Whenever 2 or more Kenyan men are gathered under the banner of Smirnoff there will be talk of sex. There were 5 of us. I did my best to maintain teetotaller status. It didn’t happen (we Mũdũ wa Mũmbi nyua johi kana tũrowane bara nene! Said Big Burly Bartender man also known as Mũdũ wa Shuva. I did my best t decline (nyĩ ndinyuaga johi). He said (ĩhĩ gũtirĩ kĩdũ ta kĩu. Kana dũreda nyamũ ici ndũru?)

The argument didn’t go very far. Keys were taken (smash and grab!), a mug was foced upon me; half Smirnoff with a splash of lime (for colour of course). A typical Friday night!

Two bottles of vodka later the girl in question was suddenly more attractive Basi nitamfyeka kesho. We Mũdũ wa Mumbi una CD? Sure I did and gave it to him. He later forgot about it. Ngai! Karibu nimfyeke bila CD!

I din’t get drunk that night. Plenty of water, half a loaf of bread and sneaky tips to the bathroom took care of that. Vodka is a vile Russian cunt! When I got back from one of my bathroom trips two were already comatose so we did the obvious; took a marker and scribbled all over them. Those left fell about the place and we laughed. One took of their shirt. And so I watched vaguly amused, vaguely drunk, vaguely bored and definitely aroused.

At some point a scuffle broke out. (ati umeniita nini? Wewe matoko ya mtu ngũkũhũra ũhane ta mbũmbũ cia mburi!) I laughed, hard. I then recalled a pretty (innocent) maiden who search for intoxicants had led as her way earlier that day. Mũdũ wa Shuva always ready to convert others to the Cult of Smirnoff said to me “Rehe shuva tũmũrathe” (unofficially the best metaphor ever!).

Later we had to drag the girl to her room.

My Friend Tony

Since I know nobody is reading this I’ll just go ahead and unwittingly pour my heart out to the oblivion of cyber space. At least maybe this way I can derive some catharsis.

I have this friend; we’ll call him Tony. Now Tony is a good friend of mine, perhaps the only one who really (kinda) gets me. He’s also the only one I really talk to. Problem.

Tony is straight, I however I’m not. The problem is that I have been in and out of lust/ infatuation/ love with Tony and everything in-between since we met four years ago. So one day (recently) when I couldn’t take it any longer I told him. He looked at me and in not so many words declined seeing that he’s undeniably straight. And since he is red-blooded Kenyan he’s unlikely to experiment (darn!).

The weird thing is some people often think that he’s less than straight (in the last year quite a few people went up to him and asked). I often like to tease him about this in the (vain) hope he may one day break down and admit to being of the queer persuasion and we’ll live happily ever after no such lack. Physically he is gifted (read athletic), broad shoulders, flat abs (no 6 pack here!), a beautiful package (even in buggy jeans) and in his day he was a champion swimmer and football striker. However he has certain slightly effeminate mannerisms, he does the hands thing (yup that queer gesticulation), his voice is slightly high pitched and to top it off, he’s a serial flirt. Women love him, they find him charming but it seldom goes beyond that, hence the rumours. Oh yeah and he’s also uncannily clever, the sort of person who studies well before exams and hands in assignments early. I dislike such people, but this is Tony we’re talking about – he’s everything I’m not, maybe something I aspire to.

Needless to say I worship the ground he walks on but the fact that I can never have him kills me. He’s the only guy (and I’ve met many) that I actually like and the only guy who makes me extremely sad. He likes me too; in fact he once told me he loved me (in not so few words) like a brother. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings (even he told me to) but it’s been four years and every time I look at him, I feel a stirring in my pants and a little pain in my heart. Tony says that I don’t actually like him but rather I want him because I can’t have him and to certain extent because I have nobody in my life. Sad but he may be right.

Anyway that was my little rant. Story of my life! And I lead an infinitely boring life. Its much more interesting in my head since.

It’s Saturday afternoon in Southern Africa and I have nothing to do except wallow in self-pity! It’s already getting dark and cold (cold for a Kenyan at least). Maybe I should go see what Tony is up to.