The Venom from the Church.

Yes, Bolton. Already I feel the rebuke on your mind. But how can I put this? Softer words do nothing but hide the bitter truth. And it is bitter. The church, or sections of it (official sections) spew venom at every turn of day.

I woke up very late.

Sleeping late Friday, and Saturday, had a lot to do with that.

Was out last night just having fun with lots of other kuchus. Went into a bar, in Kabalagala. Was boring, not many people there. Moved to another, nearby. Kabalagala is the suburb of Kampala that never sleeps. Or, more accurately, it sleeps in the early afternoon, and wakes in the evening for the night long party. Every day.

In the second bar, I immediately felt home. Why? A couple of familiar faces. Guys that I knew as Kuchu. After a couple of beers, we relocated to another place. More central, more gay people, and fun.

I sat in a corner and reveled in the familiarity of the usual. I am confortable amongst people who accept me for what I am, who have no problem understanding me. And, when I stand in the middle of them, just one of all the other, the fact that I am in a huge closet matters that much less.

First forward to the morning.

He was in my arms, my lover. A nice feeling waking up to that. His warm body curled into mine, his breath and mine bathing our faces. Yesterday I had some insight. We do not talk much, but we communicate. And there is no better communication of love and appreciation than waking up in ones arms. Feeling cocooned in the embrace of love.

We made love, and I drifted off into sleep.

Much later, the windows of the house are open, and as we pass in the corridor, I feel the need to grab him and hug him. He is my lover, he is my partner. He is my companion, and I felt a fierce joy just holding him in my arms, crushing his slight body against mine, nuzzling into his neck.

Careful, he cautioned. The windows are open.

That is when I knew the title of this post. I had just read in the Sunday Vision the article of Orombi, Archbishop and Primate of the Church of Uganda, Anglican, assailing Barack Obama for not following ‘African’ traditions. The traditions of denying gay Africans rights, he meant.

The church, the official sections at least, do spout venom.

At the beginning of Gafcon, Orombi was pressed on the violence that is meted out in Africa against gay Africans. He failed to condemn it. Oh yes, this Prince of the Church failed to condemn violence against homosexuals, because they are homosexuals. Another person, the primate of Sydney, I think, saw the trap. Or at least understood the logical meaning of the venom from Orombi. He was espousing a position of hate to the homosexual Ugandan. Simply because he is homosexual.

Now, Orombi is assailing Obama for equating the rights of homosexuals to Civil Rights.

Look, is the underlying statement. Homosexuals do not deserve rights. They should be treated just as they are treated in Africa. Closeted. When they are known to be so, prosecuted. As Akinola, another African Prince of the Church put it in the press conference at Gafcon, they should not think they can avoid the consequences of going against culture.

So, I rejected the teaching of the church. I will not lie to myself that it was not partly in reaction to their rabid madness against my sexuality. They simply do not know what I am. They do not want to know me. They condemn me, want prison for me, HIV for my lover, the continuation of my demonisation. And they justify this piously by pointing to their holy book.

It is true that I was very relieved to understand on my part, that I did not need to believe.

Yet, with my lover struggling with his spirituality by my side, and others of my friends failing to reconcile their spirituality and their sexuality, I become mad again.

The church is pouring out venom, and my people are hurting.

To me it matters, because, though I may not believe, I do not see any reason why we are all denied the right to believe, because we are what we are.

I have a friend whose struggle has led him to near suicide. He cannot reconcile being gay and being a Christian. Another, an Anglican, was forced to get married, and now he runs away from home, because he cannot continue to live the lie.

And on the other side stand the hypocritical Archbishops, condemnation and venom pouring out of their mouths. Nothing but condemnation. And other Christians have to remind them of their duty to love.

And, even when they remember to give lip service to that duty, they do it outside the country. They do not do it in the country. In country, they continue convincing the homosexual Christian that he or she is the very devil. And he has no recourse, except to rejecting himself or herself.

They define themselves my enemies. Yes, enemies.

Because they are not friends who would have me die in my ignorance.

It is an uphill struggle. I have to first understand myself. Then I have to weigh in on my self confidence against the weight of church and society’s homophobia. The perpetual condemnation of what I am.

I may survive.

Or I may fall. Fact is, it is my life on line.

So, they define themselves my enemies, and I have to be serious and understand them. Ironic it is that the most potent weapon I have is the truth. Ironic indeed, and very fitting.

They have all in their favour, except the truth. And I have nothing in my favor, except the truth as I see it. And in this assymetrical war, I predict victory for me. At a cost.

GayUganda