I'm at my desk. Looking out onto the roads of Kampala. Iron bars between me and the road. Burglar proofing, but it is like a prison. I have to stay inside, on this beautiful day. I have to earn some money.
Ever thought of work as a voluntary servitude? My time. Precious as it is, and the discipline to give it on a regular basis, in exchange, the currency to buy the things that I need. Maybe the deal is fair…
I read it stealthily, the book on gay love poetry.
Like a lover cheating, yet so confident in my cheating that I flaunt it, unseen before the very world that condemns it. I went to have break tea, and I missed the words. For the few minutes I was at break. So, I came to my office, picked up the book and confidently went back to my tea.
I am always reading something. And poetry, well, too boring for most people. They no longer want to know what I am reading.
Poetry. Reading poetry. It collects my thoughts, focuses them. I feel with the writer, and, one with the poet or poetess, I celebrate life.
What is gay poetry?
Am I a poet? Since I am gay, is every line I write gay identifying?
I will leave that to more troubled minds than mine. Identifying, pigeonholing a person can be an exercise in futility. I am what I am. Yes, I do identify as gay, but, that is an identity I embrace.
The newspapers in Kampala have this advertisement quirk.
They have place holders, scattered all over the city center, and the main roads into the city, on the lamp posts and electricity poles. The New Vision, and the Monitor- in competition, and they want to sell as many copies as they can. So, they post some headlines, to interest you in buying the paper.
One of those, Friday, in huge letters. GAYS TARGET SCHOOL CHILDREN.
I think it was about this article, the one quoting the Director General of Uganda AIDS Commission. Homosexuality is a problem in schools.
I am lucky I am not questioning my sexuality at this point in time. If I was, the wave, the torrent of hate in the media in Uganda could be overwhelming. What are they doing, those who are questioning? Is it worth it, the hate speech, the disapprobation, the demonisation?
Those in schools?
God help young gay Ugandans at this time. They must be having a collective hell of a time. And they have to have it in the deepest of closets. Maintaining face in the midst of internal turmoil.
Yet, Friday evening we went out. This bar that is more and more gay identifying. We are there in force, most of the time. It is our bar, by virtue of the time we spend there, and the money we spend. Yet, the rest of our country mates are so blind it is impossible to believe. We are open, and one sees the communication.
But we are also closeted, reveling in hiding out in the light.
Enough ruminations. Will have to save this somewhere, and post it. Later.
Be well, and a lovely weekend.