HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 37)

It happened on the fifteenth of August 2017. I was 17 years old, and I’d just been introduced to Grindr. And for awhile, all I was doing on there was check out profiles and send out “Hi” to everyone I was interested in. I was very naïve and new to the world of hookups.

I’ve always been a favorite child in my family. As the second of four children, it seemed I was the most favoured by my parents. Now, I always knew I liked boys from way back in primary school. Whenever there was a new male student in my school or I noticed a new parishioner in church, if he was attractive, I’d be drawn immediately to them, often ogling them and wanting them. And whenever I got friendly with any one of them, I never got around to any act of intimacy that went further than a hug. I watched a lot of shows and films on television and all the acts of affection that I saw happened between men and women, and I never thought those applied to same sex couples.

That is, until I became friends with Nathan in secondary school. Nathan was a year ahead of me and we used to go to school in the same school bus. Then he told me to alight at his bus stop one day. I agreed and that was how I started going to his house to play video games. One day, when we were the only people in his house, I was in his room and he came out to meet me stark naked. And then, he gave me his penis to fondle with, which I did with so much enthusiasm. Then he came to lie beside me and we started telling each other stories about our lives. This went on until I checked my watch and realised it had gotten quite late and my parents would be worried. That was the first and last such a thing happened between us, and we never spoke of it.

What happened with Nathan fed my imagination about gay sex. And soon, I discovered gay porn, and this fired up my interest – until Grindr came along.

On the app, I got acquainted with this guy named Daniel. We talked and he revealed a lot about himself to me. From how he stays alone because of disturbance from his parents, to how he was a student of Mechanical Engineering studying in some university in the East. I liked him and I wanted to meet him, even though from his pictures, he didn’t look like the kind of man I imagined I’d want to lose my virginity to. The picture of that man in my mind was perfect; Daniel wasn’t. But he would have to do.

We agreed to meet on Tuesday, August 15. I will never forget that date; you don’t forget in a hurry the day you are first made to confront the downside of being gay in Nigeria.

Before that day, I told my mum that I wanted to go see a friend somewhere at Ojodu Berger, and she said I should ask my father for permission. I did and my father said it was okay. I left the house around 8 that morning, with butterflies in my tummy as I got on a bus headed for Berger. Daniel called and I told him I was on my way. He called three times before I got to Berger, which was about an hour-long trip from my side. His persistent calling was very heart-warming, and I felt really good, already concluding in the bus that I had finally found the one.

How very naïve of me!

When I got to Berger and called him, he said I should take a bike to someplace called Blue Whale Hotel, that he’d be there waiting for me. This irritated me, because he’d initially told me he would come to Berger to pick me up. When I expressed my irritation, he was full of apologies and reassurances that he would reimburse me the bike fare. I allowed myself to be appeased, because I was focused on the first sexual experience I was going to have with him.

I flagged down a bike, and after giving him the name of where I was going, he told me the fare was 500 naira. I was baffled by this, as it suggested the bike trip was going to be a long one. I called Daniel again to let him know about the fare, and he again reassured me that he would give the bike man the money once we got there. And so, I got on the bike and we headed off.

Like I suspected, the trip was quite far. (Turns out I was headed for Akute, which was really not where my parents imagined I’d be that morning.)

When the bike got to the gate of the hotel, I called Daniel and he said he was coming. I didn’t want to waste the bike man’s time and risk him getting querulous, so I paid him instead of asking him to wait with me for the person I’d come to see.

A few minutes after he drove off, I saw someone who looked like Daniel coming toward me. It looked like him – I mean, I didn’t want to believe it was him, because this person walking toward me looked haggard and tattered. He was also short, inches shorter than I am. Whatever appeal he held in his photos were lost in real life. To be sure, I took up my phone and called his number, and my heart sank when the person walking toward me answered.

To be honest, if I suspected that this was the way he’d look in real life, I would never have bothered with coming. However, after coming all this way, I figured I’d just manage him.

He came up to me and we exchanged pleasantries. We started walking into the estate that he said he lived in as he kept on a constant prattle about himself, with me pretending to be interested in what he was saying. We got to a junction, and there, in front of a deserted apartment, I saw four guys sitting, looking about as toutish as my new friend. They called me to stop and say hi to them. I was hesitant, and then Daniel said they were his friends and that I should be nice to them.

So I went over to them. They asked me to sit and show them love. I was confused by this, but I figured they wanted some money. So, I handed over a 1000 naira note to them. Seeing the money in my hand set them off into laughter.

As they sobered up, one of them, the one that looked like their leader, suddenly got this grave expression on his face right before he said that my money would be nothing less than 2 million.

And that was when the horror started.

They pounced on me and began hitting me. As they shoved me around and hit me, I kept looking at Daniel, distressed and bewildered. But he wouldn’t look at me. In fact, at some point, he walked away, his job of getting me to this hell apparently finished.

I didn’t know what kito was, but in that moment, I knew I’d been set up. I also knew I had to do something about this situation, so I don’t end up brutalized.

I began begging my attackers, protesting that they stop so we can talk about how best to settle things. At this point, the leader was calling some other people, telling them that they’d gotten someone. I knew for sure that whoever he was calling would come here and worsen my situation, so I spoke up, making myself heard.

I said, “Why not call my father and talk to him like this is a kidnap case. I’m sure he will give you whatever you want if you tell him his son has been kidnapped.”

The leader must have seen the wisdom in what I said, because he ordered the others to stop hitting me.

Then one of the others asked, “Who your papa be – chief, senator abi na wetin?”

 My father was none of those. But he was the CEO of a big enterprise. I couldn’t of course tell them this. So, I lied that my father was a bank marketer.

They kept peppering me with questions, and I answered carefully, choosing my words so I wouldn’t give away anything that would make the situation dicier for me.

When they felt sufficiently informed, they called my father using my phone. Following the script, they told him that they had his son and would need money to release me. My father asked to speak to me first before they make any demands. They gave me the phone and I felt both relieved and guilty when I heard my father’s voice on the phone. He told me to be calm and that everything would be alright.

They took back the phone, and were soon embroiled in a bargain with my father over how much my father would pay for my release. I could tell from the annoyed expression on the face of the leader, who was on the phone, that the talk wasn’t going well.

At some point, frustrated by whatever hard ball my father was playing, the leader blurted out, “Oga, your son is a gay!”

I died a small death right there. Just like that, I’d been outed. Inside me, panic was surging, but I tried to stay calm outwardly. Finally, they disconnected the call and handed me back my phone, while they discussed among themselves over whatever price my father had settled on. Now in possession of my phone, I swiftly uninstalled Grindr and cleared all the evidence of my association with Daniel in my phone, including his number. Of course, I was aware that if things got really ugly, these guys must have screenshots and all that to show that I am gay, but in that stressful moment, I figured it’d be better for me if none of that was found in my phone.

Finally, the guys wanted us to move away from our location, seeing as they’d earlier told other members of their gang to come there to meet us. They didn’t want to share. As we walked to whatever new place they had in mind, they talked to me conversationally as though I was one of them. One of them told me how he had made up his mind to deal with every “homosexual on the surface of the earth” because his younger brother was raped by a guy some years ago. He went on and on with his anti-gay venom, but I’d stopped paying attention.

Along the way, we met a woman who had two children with her. She asked them something about the previous one, and they began gisting with her.

Then I saw her glance at me, before she said to them, “If this one enter, abeg no forget to send me my own share o.”

As comprehension dawned on me about the complicity of this woman in this kito operation, I felt so aggrieved that I began cursing the woman and her children under my breath. I cursed her unto her third and fourth generation. A mother with children, and she was part of an operation that sought to destroy the lives of innocent young boys.

We eventually got to some other place, and I sat down while they talked among themselves. I was tired and depressed and just wanted all this to be over.

It was about thirty minutes later that they got the alert of the transfer my father made to their account. Seconds later, he had called my number and was speaking to them, demanding for me to be released with immediate effect and be given back whatever they had collected from me.

At this point, the other group called, wanting to know where they were, but the leader answered and lied to them, saying he’d been joking when he called earlier. When they turned to me to grant me my freedom, I reminded them that I didn’t know this area and would not be able to find my way back to the junction where I’d get a bike. The leader offered to escort me to the main road.

Along the way, now feeling magnanimous because of a healthy bank account, he bought me gala and Pepsi. Then he said that he liked me and wanted us to work together: I lure my gay friends to their trap and they would split the proceeds with me. I was quietly outraged by this, but kept my cool, merely nodding to everything he was saying.

We got to the junction and he flagged down a bike that would take me back to Berger.

As I got on the bike, I didn’t know what to feel, whether relief that I had finally gotten away from my captors or dread over what was waiting for me at home. When I got to Berger, before getting on a bus, I called my friend, Tony, and told him that whatever happens, whoever asks him, he should say that that I’d planned to meet him that day, and that I even called to tell him I was already at his bus stop, and that phone call was the last he heard from me.

Tony agreed, no questions asked; I knew he was expecting the full details of this bizarre call at a later date.

My plan was to insist on the kidnap story, that I got to my friend’s bus stop, and that was where I was snatched.

So then, I got on a bus back to my place. I went straight to my mother’s place of work. When she saw me, she broke out into praises, giving God all the glory that I was home safe. She called my dad to let him know that I was with her. Then she took me home, where she fussed over me while we waited for my father to come home.

I was dreading his return. I just knew this would be the end for me. My father had been told his son was gay. No way was he not going to do something drastic about that. I just wanted Rapture to happen right then and distract everybody from the secret of my homosexuality.

Rapture didn’t happen, and when I heard the honk of my father’s horn as he drove in, I began shaking. When he got in, the only thing he said to me was to ask if I was beaten. I told him “A little”, and he said I should go for medical checkup the next day, which I turned down with the assurance that I was fine.

And that was it.

No questions, no third degree, nothing.

In the following week, I observed my father closely, unable to believe my good fortune. But he never once changed his attitude toward me. At some point, I began to wonder if I’d imagined that thug telling my father on the phone that his son is gay.

Finally, a week after my kito incident, I was with my father’s phone and upon scrolling through his browser history, I saw some Google Searches that sent shock waves surging through me.

How do you know if your son is gay… How to maintain a relationship with your gay son… Penalties for being gay in Nigeria…

So he knew!

He’d heard!

He had actually heard those guys tell him I am gay!

Then why hadn’t he said anything to me? I couldn’t understand this.

It was a couple of days later that I was hanging out with my mother, and she began telling me how my father had confided in her after that “kidnap” incident that he thought I am gay, and he wanted to know from her how he should approach me on the issue. And she, my mother, had shot it down, telling him emphatically that she knows her son isn’t gay. And even if I was gay, I would have told her. (My mom and I are close.)

Then she looked gravely at me and asked the question, “Mannie, are you really gay?”

I did not answer her.

I am yet to answer that question.

Written by Mannie