27th has invited me to the Ugandan bloggers’ happy hour. Its today.
Frankly, I am apprehensive. If I go, I have the option of not saying I am gay. So, I just go and gawk at all these nerds. They don’t know me, and I don’t know them. But they know that I may be there. Well, I am nervous.
27th has offered to leave his gun home. He is the only revolutionary, so the others don’t carry guns. But what if Manuel comes, and sees me in the flesh? Wonder what he will do? Dare I out myself like that?
I mean, I am out, but only to those who know me, and while none has offered to help me to heaven, others have offered quite a bit of disdain.
I have been thinking a lot of this, and of course I started thinking of what the other guys and girls are thinking about me being at their happy hour. Only natural that a poem slid into my fingers-
Gay man's coming to dinner !
a homo's coming to dinner,
to converse and talk, laugh and share;
what d' y' all expect?
a devil dressed in black;
the antlered horns for now hidden,
a deadly dark face shaded,
by blacker than black robes;
hanging menacing to the floor.
Now and then we'll note,
the flick of a tail,
armoured with a sting,
as the tail robes adjust
before our horrified eyes.
a human being, a normal man;
(or woman is it?)
eats the same, speaks the same,
same dark skin, flash of white teeth;
nervous laughter constraining.
a human being normal,
same human laughter, similar salty tears;
red blood in dark skin pulsing,
similar to us all:
a gay man's to dinner coming!
( (c) GayUganda 26/09/07)
What do you think? I am also nervous to say the least. Should I ask 27th to come with the gun, to protect me?