SECTION ONE Chapter Three Never Mind Whom You Praise, But Be Careful Whom You Blame: EDMUND GOSSE  

THE MOUNTY, MELANIE, AUSTRALASIA
Three days ago, he crossed the Atlantic to Australasia. Three months shy of three years at Adonis, a gay writer’s conference took him to a fitness centre, but homosexuality remained the chain that bound him to Tito, to San Francisco and to a life of agony. Suddenly, without warning, he fell into a dream and Tito was dragging him across the English Channel on a rafter.

As he tried not to fall overboard, the fight of his life seemed to drag on forever. He heaved heavily, feeling dispirited, sinking and floating, struggling to stay conscious and alive. It was in this depressive state that he felt a form hovering over him; it took him a while to notice that the form was talking to him and a lot more time to hear him, but he did not comprehend.

In a flash, he returned to a safe dry land and to a man’s face looking him over with concern. When he realised that he was still on a chair and not in the English Channel, he smiled weakly at the unknown being that saved him from drowning. The gym manager with a thoughtful composure returned the smile with a large grin that almost split his large face. “My name is Konrad. Welcome to The Mounty”, he said extending a big hairy hand.

Alarm shot up his adrenalin. “The what? How did I run foul of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police”, he asked Konrad. His mien remained welcoming. “You have not offended the Mountie to my knowledge, at least not here in Australasia. The fitness club where you are, of which I am the manager is called The Mounty! My identity card says I am called Konrad. Again, I welcome you to my lair.” He felt a deep likeness for this giant immediately. Hastily, unsteadily, he got to his feet as the dense fog began to clear. “Thanks pal; I think that I can remember some details now. I must have passed out as soon as I entered here, actually I was dreaming. The name is Himka, Frederick Himka and how are you doing?” Konrad was all smiles again. “Okay I guess, we are busy taking care of the numerous visitors who come to this country and to the Mounty at this time of the year. Sorry I disturbed your sweet dream.”

Frederick shook his disagreement strongly. “On the contrary; you got me out of a horrific nightmare. This is my first visit here; but Konrad I can’t place your accent, where are you from if you don’t mind my asking.” With a soft laugh, he gave a quick reply. “You are the typical American Frederick, a European will not ask of my country within minutes of meeting me, but its okay. You will never pin down my nationality from my accent because I don’t have any specific one.” Konrad smiled expansively even as Fred’s eyes urged him to go on. “I was born in Liechtenstein; was taken to Denmark at age seven, crossed over to Montreal at fifteen, went to study sports psychology in Scotland at nineteen and lived for three years after graduation in Los Angeles. My mother is a Pole; at the turn of the century, my father fled Jewish persecution and pogrom in Russia. In addition to the four languages I picked up at home: Hebrew, Danish, Russian and Polish, I have in the course of my studies and travelling become proficient in almighty English.

I can speak quality French and won’t be counted a foreigner in Germany when I speak. I won’t need an interpreter in the Scandinavia, but I am sure you know that they even speak English better than the British!” He laughed loud and long at his own joke and Frederick good naturedly agreed with him. “I am not surprised in the least; some Americans in the South give some English speaking visitors a hard time understanding their deep drawl. Tell me Konrad, what brought you to Australasia to live? Are you a fugitive from the law?” Konrad gave him a gentle punch on his left ribs. “Americans! God must have been in a funny mode the day he made them. Frederick, I am here on my free accord because of love. If I ever become a fugitive, I will find a haven in Liechtenstein! It’s the perfect haven for outlaws and outcasts, especially the very rich.”

Again, he enjoyed a prolonged laugh.
Frederick felt a strong arm steering him out of the waiting room into the changing room. “What of the love which brought you here, is it still alive?” With his affable composure unchanged, Konrad spoke as if he didn’t hear Frederick’s question. “Life at the Mounty will set you back by $US50 weekly in beginner’s lesson, heavier stuff will make you poorer by $US85 weekly. Specialist services inclusive of therapeutic yoga and meditative martial arts will leave a weekly hole of $160 in your pay cheque! Please change into appropriate gear and meet me in the weights room, that’s the third room on your left. That’s where to begin, but I am sure you know that because this is not your first time in a fitness facility.” With a broad smile, he briskly walked off. Frederick felt fried up, frustrated and yet friendly, even fine and funny. At least, this promises to be a trip to remember; with a globetrotter gym instructor, fluent in nine tongues, in an out of town location for love’s sake! “I must meet this star object of Konrad’s love”, he decided. “It may help me with understanding Tito because Konrad is clearly gay. Haven’t I made such sacrifice for love regarding Tito! Haven’t I forsaken father and mother because of Tito! Did not the Christian gospel command the man to take leave of dad and mom and be joined unto his wife and the two shall become one!”

He paused to regain his breath. “Yes, husband and wife in biblical narrative are a man and a woman: an Adam and an Eve;” a voice from his soul interrupted. “I like you to know that Socrates; one of history’s greatest philosophers constantly counselled his pupils to marry and marry good wives, and live long or marry bad wives and become philosophers! Because you disdained the holy injunctions of my God and the secular counsel of Socrates, you are neither a candidate of long life nor a philosopher nor a married man!” “Shut up your dirty crap,” Frederick barked out aloud in anger. “I decide whom I call wife; it’s my own life and my destiny only.” And Soul Voice laughed. It seemed that Frederick heard a slight movement. “You just lied,”the unseen but unafraid voice continued; “you are Adam to Adam with Tito, husband to husband, bone to bone, even though it cost you the love of your parents. You may call your relationship with Tito any name, but marriage. My God created marriage, it’s the inventor that owns the patent to his invention and defines its use and sets the terms thereof. Let the gay community name differently its own abnormal conjugal institution.”

Again, it appeared that something moved. “I can’t believe what I am hearing in this weird facility,” mourned Frederick as he cupped his ears. “Jesus, there must be some kind of surveillance and intrusive apparatus in here that invades peoples memory. I got to find it; yes that I must do,” he said aloud. With grim determination, he peered into lockers; he scrutinized hangers and overturned chairs; and bounced sounds off walls and mirrors. Briskly, he frisked all clothes on chairs for listening devices. Not satisfied, he climbed up and examined the ceilings for cracks and the lights for unusual marks. On a cue, he shut off the lights, the airconditioner and the television set. Suspecting that their remote controls functioned in other sinister capacities, he began to tinker with how to take them apart. Darkness enveloped him, heat and sweat wrapped him as he toiled away and alone in darkness. When the door suddenly jerked open and the lights came on; he gave a startled cry; and recognising from a cursory glance that it was Konrad, he continued with his task unfazed. Konrad stood akimbo; the door still half opened; took everything in one glance; closed the door and slowly entered the room.

“I have proper tools to do any job you want to do,” he volunteered without sounding accusatory. It was so matter-of-factly that something froze in Frederick. “This guy must be clean; doesn’t look like he has anything to hide, maybe I am wrong” he thought. “But I heard a voice, a live voice,” he defended aloud in a tired, weary tone. His face came into his hands in a subdued gesture of defeat. Silently, noiselessly, Konrad walked up to him and just barely touched him. “I believe you” he whispered; “I believe that you truly heard a voice.” Frederick got a bigger surprise in that word of comfort. “You do! You believe me; you mean that I am not a crank” he wailed. When he looked up, his fat blobby face was greasy and tears freely found his face a freeway. Unconsciously, he cried and talked simultaneously: “Jesus, what is the matter with me! O my God, what is happening to me?” Konrad the gym manager became a wordless Agony Aunt. There was a shared; unsaid grief as the two men locked up in embrace. The emblem of strength and virility minutes ago, Konrad seemed to have willingly diminished into reduced ration for Frederick’s sake. And this sacrifice; to Frederick, is what friendship ought to be, what ought to be the currency of the relationship between him and Tito, and between him and his unyielding parents.

This humanity electrified Frederick; the father he had lost got resurrected in Konrad, the lover’s fidelity he lacked in Tito filtered through Konrad, the sinking Titanic of the English Channel became a life guard in Konrad. Shared agony bound them as loneliness mediated wordlessly, finally handing them over to grief as comforter. That day; that moment, in Australasia, in a gym, Frederick became acquainted with the joys of sadness, the boisterousness of loneliness and the victory of defeat. “I am alive after death,” he smiled up at Konrad; who nodded speechlessly in quiet understanding. “After three days underground, the grave rejected Jesus according to the Christian scriptures. Well; the grave of rejection objected to my entry after three days in Australasia! What an achievement; seems that I finally have something in common with Jesus!” He laughed unsteadily.

Ever heard of the word ‘blasphemy,’”interrupted Soul Voice. “And what if I have heard,” thundered Frederick aloud. He broke away from Konrad forcefully, eyes towards the heavens. “Though you don’t acknowledge my God, a fatwa would have been your Sword of Damocles if I am from the other side of the Divide,” cautioned Soul Voice. “You may be a condemned citizen of Down Under for all my damn life cares,” he boxed aimlessly at Soul Voice. “And why must you come into my thoughts uninvited?” A soft laugh within him rolled into an earthquake as the answer came. “I have an irrevocable pass into your thoughts; every day, every time, every where!” Punching invisible enemies, he blared forth: “I know it; you are a chip planted into me while I slept! Who’s the Big Brother that planted you; answer me if you are brave, sucker!” Soul Voice laughed in sympathy.

“Even if you will not give me an answer, I know your pay masters. I blame the usual suspects: the Mossad, the CIA, the MI5 and the KGB! Tell me; is it a crime to be gay?”

Soul Voice seemed closer and softer. “I am Conscience! I am the everlasting chip; implanted into every being before birth by Jehovah God; alive even after the soul’s change of living address which mortal God-ignorant man calls death. Yes, homosexuality is a horrible sin before my God; and the Bible says so in” ….Abruptly, Frederick broke into feverish laughter that for once got Konrad worried. And suddenly, he stopped laughing and resumed the tirade. “Christian conscience is the biggest tool in the trick bag of Big Religion, Mr Intruder! You are nothing, but a Con Man, a cheat, a counterfeit, what Nigerians call 419!” After another bout of uproarious laughter, he dissolved into violent coughing. Firmly but gently, Konrad led him into an adjacent office; austere but neat; decorated with the books and kiths of the keep-fit world. Konrad’s parrot Nevada; ever faithfully hostile to intrusions into his office, ceaselessly complained of Frederick’s presence in Babel of protests. From the table top refrigerator, he gave Frederick 500 ml bottled water which he gratefully gulped in three big mouthfuls.

“Take some rest here; when you are done please send for me. My secretary will call me; her office is the door to your left. Its part of her job description to provide clients needs, so don’t feel guilty to ask her. Of course, there will be a small service charge to cover the expenses and time we may incur as a result. Welcome to the Monty, dear friend.” Fred thought: “What a wonderful man this gym manager is. Hey Konrad; I appreciate all this care and thanks for being here for me,” he shouted at the departing form. “Forget it brother, it’s nothing. ‘That’s what friends are for,’ sang the Diva Dionne Warwick.

And that’s what we get when we become friends, to cover each other’s back. As gays, we can’t crucify ourselves and expect the world out there to give us acceptability. Have you not heard from the Christian gospels that ‘a house divided against itself cannot stand?’ I urge all gays of the world to unite. We have nothing to lose, but our restrictions! You are my brother, you are dear to me. Come out when you are ready.” He existed with a smile that Frederick considered belonged to a Greek god.

A pastor, historian and writer, Joseph Emeka Anumbor is the author of THE INTERCOURSE OF TROUBLED THOUGHTS, a critically acclaimed discourse on homosexuality published by AuthorHouse Inc, Indiana, USA.

Disclaimer: "The views expressed on this site are those of the contributors or columnists, and do not necessarily reflect TheNigerianVoice’s position. TheNigerianVoice will not be responsible or liable for any inaccurate or incorrect statements in the contributions or columns here."

Articles by Emeka Anumbor