DEAR DIARY
Monday, 30th of March, 2020
Dear Diary,
It’s been four years since I came home. The air is still as tense as the day I left.
Dad almost sent me out, said something about how the virus killing me would be God enacting his justice on me. Mum begged him to let me stay, not out of motherly compassion or anything. She was just worried about what the neighbors will say. How very motherly of her, right?
I really hope this lockdown gets called off soon so I can go back to school… The only place I’m wanted.
“Your father said you should come out for night devotion.”
He looked up from his diary to see his mother standing in the doorway to his bedroom, eyeing him with disdain. Then she let out a disturbingly malevolent hiss before turning away to head for the sitting room. He sighed and followed after her, making sure to hide his diary underneath his bed like he always did.
He could hear the songs before he saw them. His parents were sitting beside each other, heads shaking vigorously as they sang warfare praises.
He sat on the couch farthest from them, singing softly under his breath, scared to be noticed by his own father.
He should have known that he wouldn’t stay unobtrusive for long.
“You can’t sing out, abi?” his father snapped. “Ó le korin!?”
He looked up at the man, his spine tingling, his body tense as he looked into the bloodshot eyes of his father. It was apparent the man had earlier emptied a bottle or two as usual.
“Oko mi, my Husband,” his mother cut in. “Please don’t allow this boy to upset you. You know your heart is weak.”
“Ehn ehn… So that’s what you came back to do, abi?” His father’s glare was still on him. “You want to kill me? You demonic boy! I swear to God who made me, I will kill you first!”
He felt his throat start to tighten as he watched his father lurch to his feet, his eyes crazed. He had the same expression like he did the day before he left home, the day he was beaten till his father had made sure he’d broken some of his bones. The day he came out to his parents as gay.
“I will beat that demonic spirit out of you this night!”
His father reached down to unbuckle his belt.
“Oko mi, it’s too late for this na,” his mother beseeched.
“Oh, so you’re defending this thing that you call your son, eh?” her husband rounded on her. “This bastard child you had with another man! I always knew there was something wrong with him ever since he was a kid!”
Tears pooled in his eyes because he knew what was coming next. He knew he’d soon be on the receiving end of his father’s brutality. It was a surprise that it had taken this long.
The belt came undone with a sharp snap.
***
Wednesday, 22nd of April, 2020
Dear Diary,
Dad came home drunk last night again. His drinking is getting worse. Mum blames it on my presence though. Apparently the sight of me is sickening. We had another deliverance session this morning. Dad stripped me naked and used his belt like an artist would use his paint brush on a canvas, adding more bruises to my body. Mum screamed in tongues while he did; apparently there’s a demon in my body. Honestly, I don’t know what to do anymore, I’m scared and there’s no one I can call for help.
“What are you doing, you this evil child?”
The voice was slurred, but the inebriation didn’t mask the malevolence in it.
He turned to face his father. His heart had already started pounding, the way it did whenever he suddenly found himself in the presence of the older man.
“I didn’t know you were back, sir.”
“Is that the way you’ll greet me then?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Welcome back, sir.”
“Ehn! You this boy, you’re growing wings, abi?”
“No sir, I—”
His head snapped suddenly to the side and the ringing in his ear was the only sign that told him he had been slapped.
His father locked the door behind him.
“I will teach you how to be a man today.” He raised his fists. “Fight me.”
“Daddy, please, I—”
A left hook to the jaw cut off his words this time and he fell hard to the floor.
“Get up. Get up, you bastard child!”
He struggled to raise himself up.
A kick to the mid section brought him down again.
***
Tuesday, 23rd of June, 2020
Dear Whoever Is Reading This,
It’s been the same routine for the past month. Deliverance sessions in the morning. Then if my dad doesn’t pass out after his usual drinking rounds in the evening, he teaches me how to be a man.
I’m sorry. I tried.
Written by Sati My’kel
About author
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15 Comments
MTH
July 16, 09:36Sorry for going through this mess
Fred
July 16, 10:33Even when everything seems ok, when your family seems tolerant of LGBT+ content on TV, we really should be careful before coming out to our families. Much of the Nigerian experience never has a happy ending – even with Nigerian families living abroad.
A safe space away from family (which costs money) is one very important thing one needs to have before coming out. I’m assuming one wasn’t thrust out of her/his/ their closet.
Whoever has information about a free and safe accommodation should please share with the writer (My’kel).
Rudy
July 16, 10:51To say I’m enraged is an understatement.
A home-made exorcism with brutality?
One would think they’ve heard and seen it all.
Indeed, *Some people* scratch that, *Most People* deserve NOT to be parents. Your parents are blinded by religion and are rather the ones possessed with vileness and iniquity.
You’re strong Sati.
As you keep on writing in your diary try to reach out to any LGBT affirming NGO’s or whatever, friends, perhaps any sensible family or relative you have out there. I was hoping you had elder siblings even, and if you did and however homophobic they might also be, I was banking on the hopes that they will at least not condone the physical abuse your clueless and hateful parents meted out on you.
Just find somebody, any sensible person and let them know what you’re going through maybe someone could talk some sense into your parents.
It’s still very meek of you to call that wicked Step dad of yours your father considering the number of times he makes it obvious to you, you are not his.
They don’t deserve to lead you Sati, you are rather leading with strength, endurance and a love they can never feel nor comprehend.
Be strong and do anything you can to expose them or most importantly free yourself from such evil company.
Mitch
July 16, 11:49The last time my father tried his stupid physical brutality with me was when I was 12 and he hit me (simply because when he’s angry, he’s got to hit someone) for no reason.
I didn’t know when I rushed blindly into the kitchen with him hot on my heels, pulled out a knife from the kitchen rack and swiped at him with it.
Nigga literally ran for his life after I cut his hand open and was still coming after him.
At the end of the day, violence is the only language the violent understand. Show them that you can be even more violent and vicious than them and they’d let you be.
Otan!
Mandy
July 16, 13:18I’m with you on this. One day, I’ll tell the story of how I came out to my parents when I was in my service year. And how when my father… In fact, in most parts, this story is like mine. My dad must have been labouring under the illusion that gay men are weak or not real men. Then he tried to beat me one day under the guise of “I’ll teach you how to be a man”. The first blow he aimed my way, I caught it. Then I looked very coldly into his eyes and reminded him that I’m a grown YOUNG person and he’s an aging older man. And that I won’t hesitate to retaliate blow for blow if he chooses to go down this road of violence. The man was in shook. Jejely let me be and chose other means, mostly passive aggressive hostility, to deal with the reality of my homosexuality.
Sometimes, you just have to show a violent person that you’re capable of being just as equally violent,for them to back away.
trystham
July 16, 23:22???? ‘he was in shook’ had me reeling. Conveyed ‘shock and trembling’ so vividly
Delle
July 16, 23:58Tell. This. Story!
seth
July 16, 12:24poignant fiction…
Black Dynasty
July 16, 16:12@ pink panther… see why i don’t like reading fiction?? I was in my feelings about this…. only to see it under the fiction category ?.
Excellent writing @ sati
Pink Panther
July 16, 17:09????????
Stahpeet joor. Fiction is just a gateway to all the things that actually happen. ?
Delle
July 16, 23:56It’s Fiction!
The relief I felt
Oh but this is such a good representation of what happens in most homes. The father that does this will one day fight the child wielding a knife and Lord help him.
Rehoboth
July 17, 08:11Excellent writing. No child deserves this torture.
Liam
July 18, 00:00Fiction??
My only relief!!
No one deserves to go through this
Not feeling safe or same Ina place that should be home
Having to live and stay with people who see you as an abomination or a possessed being
In all, we would be fine
Yaya
September 19, 07:23Some People are dumb
How can you Côme out to your parents when you are still depending on them.
It is selfishness knowing that some parents cannot Côme to terms with thèse things and we still have to let them go through it.
Peace
July 19, 00:36I stopped at Wednesday 22nd April 2020, and scrolled down to check the category. I prayed earnestly in my mind, that it should fall under fiction…and phew!it did!! my heart is still thumping rapidly though. What is even scarier is that this is actually the reality of some people…. oh dear lord.. This is not fair at all! It isn’t !!