I am back!

Yeah, back in Uganda.

This small country of mine, controversial, the epitome of Africa in its promise and the way it so consistently fails to live up to it. I do love it.

Basket-case continent? So what? It is mother Africa to me. However ugly the rest of the world will see her, I see only my momma!

Got in early yesterday. Rushed through customs. Found my lover just outside. Waiting.

I had promised him a hug on seeing him. Did give it to him. Held him tight to me, drank in his essence. Had to let go, it would have been too noticeable.

He had come with a friend of ours, who I greeted, and we set off for Kampala.

Entebbe is beautiful. It is like the door into the country, and I feel, always, when I enter, that I am home.

This country is small, relative to others. Course we do have a huge population, relative. But what I have seen of it, one can cross from one end to the other in hours, despite the roads.

A whiz through Kampala, to home. My lover besides me. I was feeling too dirty, grimed up with the days of travel. Travel and sleep, and dozing, half asleep on planes and lounges etc. That is why I do not really love travelling. The time it takes to get to the places of interest!

Cut a long story short? I had a shower, and he welcomed me home, in style.

Through the day and night since, seems we have been sleeping and making love in turns. Helps that my internet connection had lapsed, so I could not take my dose of internet as would have happened long since if I was connected!

And, during the night, it drizzled. Loved it, as I pulled closer to him. And in the morning, the drizzle strengthened to a shower, and a longer one has just washed the air again. I am home, and it is raining.

We are a people who notice the occasional things of life with an awed eye. The fact that it has rained, weeks since it last did, impressed me. Because rain is supposed to be a blessing. A guest who comes with rain is coming with blessings.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, I have not learnt many of these so called signs. Call it my upbringing being defective.

My lover killed a chicken in honour of my return. Must have been a cock, I don’t know! I asked him why, and he told me his husband had returned safely from a very long journey. He had to touch blood.

He asked me to go slaughter it. I demurred. I think according to whatever custom he was following, I was the one supposed to. I watched with interest as he debated internally. He knows I am not amenable to following traditions that I do not believe. And of course we are from differing cultural groups, which always makes him wonder whether I don’t because I do not know the custom, or whether I am just not interested, because I am not interested!

I had to bring him something from my travels. I was lucky. I made a hit with it. Makes me smile, knowing that I am back home, and that he was so happy with his gift. Was worth the long debate on what to bring. He says he would not mind anything, but I know he is so critical and particular, I prefer to let him choose anything. Prevents a lot of comments on the dearth of my ‘taste’.

The guy loves me. And I do love him.

It has been seven years now, since we got together. Seven.

Sounds like a dream, sometimes. In a country like Uganda, homophobic, with such a fear of gay people, to say that we have been together seven long years is something. I know of few people like us. Couples. We are very lucky. There are too many things that would push us apart. Real and imaginary ones.

Of course, we are together, but our neighbours presumably do not ‘know’. Some genuinely, others have to fain it, but well, what the hell!

We have to celebrate this anniversary. It is past, but something has to be, just to mark the passing of seven years of love and partnership.

GayUganda