On The Line

“Kill the gays! Kill them!” Chima thundered.

Chima’s eyes resembled the fiery pellets that seeped through the roof into the hut. We were cornered by love and tradition. Two Romeos, cast down by our god, left to endure the wrath of Chima and the others.

There were better times before Yemi came. Times when I could control how I felt for my fellow man. Times when I could convince younger boys to pleasure me and buy their silence with udara. But Yemi, he swept me off my feet. In the most subtle way, he took over my mind. I fell hard for him.

I’m not hard to look at. Yemi once confessed that my honey-coloured skin was what made him fall for me.

A stud amongst the ladies, Mother expected I would be married early. I thought I would too. I thought my attraction to men was just a phase. I thought once I get inside a woman, I would be fixed. Nwokocha’s daughter, Adaure, was the first woman I took. We sneaked off during the Ekeori festival to a farm nearby.

It was embarrassing. My manhood refused to stand. She even pleasured it with her mouth but couldn’t get it to stand. I asked if she would bend the way I made the young boys do. Resting my manhood against her buttocks got it hard. I was so aroused I tried to push it into her asshole. She writhed in pain and asked me to stop. After begging for another chance, I put it in her vagina from behind. I came, but it didn’t feel the same. I preferred a flat chest to the oranges on Adaure’s chest. I wanted the scent of a man, not the flowery smell that surrounded Adaure.

I was sick. I wanted to tell Mother, but I feared she would tell Father. And Father would never understand. He would call it madness and blame my chi.

I had to leave the younger boys alone. Dike’s son had complained of a sharp pain days after I had him. My only option was to pleasure my manhood as I thought of my perfect lover.

I met Yemi at Mazi Ndukwe’s house. I had come to deliver the mortar Father carved for Mazi Ndukwe’s wife, Nkechi. Yemi was the first thing I saw when I entered the compound. His eyes held a familiar warmth, like he already knew me.

Trying to perfect my step, I strode to where he and Nkechi stood. I greeted them, flashing my teeth at him. Nkechi introduced him as her husband’s guest, who would be staying with them. I stretched out my hand to feel this perfect human in a handshake. He reached out for my palm and lightly stroked its center with his index finger. There was lightning in his touch. My manhood stirred and I quickly withdrew my hand.

After I collected the payment for the mortar, I bade them farewell. My walk home was punctuated with short bursts of running. I was elated. I wanted more of Yemi. I needed his earthy smell. I wanted to stroke every pulsing vein on his manhood, kiss every muscle on his body. I wanted him to take me.

The next day, I went back to Mazi Ndukwe’s house. Yemi and Nkechi were having a conversation in the kitchen. I announced my presence, saying I had come to give Yemi a tour of the village. Nkechi thanked me for my kind gesture and jokingly told Yemi he was safe with me.

We strolled along the road, side by side. I swung my hand, hoping he would catch it and hold it. Too scared to initiate anything, I took him to the other side of stream which people usually avoided for fear of snakes, hoping he would make a move. We chose a rock not too far from the water and ate the mangoes we had picked on our way.

He reached out for my hand and told me more about himself, while my heart thumped in my chest. He came from a rich family and decided to travel and experience other parts of the land. I told him about my family; while talking about my brother Chima, he leaned in and kissed me. I felt the kiss in my manhood. I leaned in and pushed my tongue in deeper. I threw my half-eaten mango away and stroked his chiseled chest, drowning in his scent.

He broke away and stared deep into my eyes. I knew he wanted more. I wanted more as well. I took his hand and led him to an abandoned hut not too far from where we’d been sitting. He was a good lover, he didn’t rush it. I felt him everywhere. He took me first; I never thought pain could bring so much pleasure. We made love till late into the afternoon. He held me for a while, and then we went for a swim in the cool evening water before we returned to our respective homes.

I had never slept so well than I did that night. I dreamt of Yemi. I dreamt that we decided to be together forever. I dreamt that Father blessed our union. I dreamt that we made love all the time, wherever and whenever we desired.

I saw him again the next day, and the following days after that. We made the hut near the stream our spot and we frequently met there to make love.

I introduced Yemi to my family and they all loved him except Chima. Chima warned me on many occasions to be careful around Yemi, that he didn’t trust him. If only he knew we were lovers.

One day, Yemi visited me while just Chima and I were home. While the three of us were talking, Chima offered to go and get us good wine from his friend, Obiora. We thanked him, not for the wine, but for the unintended opportunity to slake our burning desire for each other.

As soon as he left, Yemi came to me. Not wanting to waste any time, we decided to do it on the floor of my father’s obi. Just as ever before, his touch fevered my skin as I received him.

And then, in the heat of passion, I heard a loud scream. I looked up and saw Chima with his hands on his head. His friend, Obiora stood next to him, his hands running over his eyes in astonishment. Yemi and I scrambled to our feet, seeking to cover our nakedness from their malignant stares. I began to plead with them. But Chima let out a loud cry of outrage, beckoning the villagers to come. Alarmed by his cry, I pushed Yemi, grabbing his hand and urgently commanding him to follow me. We fled through the backyard and into the forest, hoping to lose Chima and the mob on our trail. Yemi suggested we go and hide in the hut – our hut – and then flee the village at night. We ran as fast as we could, ducking under low hanging branches and jumping over shrubs. We arrived at the hut and sat huddled in a corner.

Not long after we got there, I heard murmurs outside.  We were quiet, barely breathing for fear of being found.

Everything was quiet, except for smell of smoke. Just as I looked up to peer through the window, I heard Chima’s voice.

“Ugo! Come out with that lover of yours or burn!”

The tears I shed were just as hot as the room. From inside, we began to beg, yelling our pleas to them, my brother and the mob, to spare us and let us leave the village. But they remained unmoved. Chima shouted for us to come out once again, and when we didn’t budge, he threw his fire torch at the roof of the hut, shouting for the villagers to join him. In a mad man’s voice, he screamed, “Kill the gays! Kill them!”

I held Yemi tight to me, crying like a baby. He held me too. And we shared our last kiss before the darkness came upon us.

Written by WhoIsUgo