The Cross we carry

The Sabbath day, the day the Lord rested. Usually, by this time on a Sunday, I was already dressed in my well-ironed white shirt and trousers, ready to march into the house of the Lord. But lately, my faith had become shaky since I discovered that men were on my list of sexual preferences.

The Bible condemns homosexuality, which now seems like an unjust condemnation to me because it was the Big G who created us this way.

The majority of us didn't choose to be this way; it's just who we are. And now, even the church, which is supposed to be open to everyone, shuts its doors in our faces. How can I call myself a Christian if my mere existence breaks the laws of the Bible?

As I laid on my bed, contemplating my misfortune, I heard loud noises of people shouting in the courtyard. I tried to ignore the noise, but it was too loud to ignore, so I decided to go out and check what in the name of the Titanic was going on.

I saw a large crowd of boys forming a circle in the left corner of the courtyard. "Oh, it's just bottle flip or another dumb useless game," I said to myself.

It was kind of a weekend morning ritual for everyone to come out of their rooms and play one dumb game after another.

I was about to head back to my room when I heard, "Please! Please! help me, oh." "No, it can't be," I said to myself as I ran back to the scene to find out what exactly was going on. What I heard was definitely not in the glossary box for bottle flips.

Struggling my way to the middle of the circle so I could see what they were surrounding, my brain couldn't process what my eyes saw.

There he was, Senior Addams, beaten black, blue, and yellow. His eyes were swollen, blood gushed from his lips and every part of his skin.

Everyone around was holding some form of weapon, ranging from a thick waist belt to plywood, even a spiked iron rod. I didn't need anyone to tell me what this was. It was jungle justice, a brutal one at that.

But why? What could he have done to deserve such a gruesome and barbaric act? Tears and pity welled up in my eyes, even though I had no idea what he had done.

I looked around, and there he was, Michael, the one person I could bet on to be present in events like this. I immediately ran to him.

"Michael, please tell me what is going on. Why are they beating him?"

"They caught him having sex with another guy. Can you believe such immorality? It's enough to make me throw up," he said with disgust written all over his face.

I couldn't believe my ears. I had assumed he was caught stealing or even killing someone to deserve such a level of jungle justice. But no, to them, he seemed to have done something much more evil.

My spirit broke from the inside. Who gave them the right to judge him? All of this just because he is found guilty of being gay.

"Although the other guy got away, we are beating this one so he can tell us who his partner in crime was," Michael explained matter-of-factly.

"So you can beat him up too?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Yeah, of course," he replied callously.

With that statement, my hatred for Michael began to swell beyond measure. I knew he hated homosexuality, but this was not just hatred.

It was something much more. How could people be so barbaric and yet call us animals? I couldn't take it anymore. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me straight to the hostel master's dorm.

"Sir, a student is being beaten to death in the hostel," I blurted out urgently.

Upon arrival, he cleared the circle of doom, looked at the half-alive victim, and called for the senior prefect.

"Can you tell me what the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"Sir, we caught him in the toilet with another boy. They were touching each other's private parts," the head prefect answered.

Hearing this, I had to admit that what they did was wrong. But this level of judgment was too much for the crime committed. They were not being punished for what they did; they were being punished for who they did it with. If it were a boy and a girl, everyone would cheer them on for being adventurous. But now they cast stones.

"Lie down," the hostel master commanded.

He gave him sixteen strokes for breaking the hostel rules, painful to watch but a thousand times better than what I had witnessed earlier.

The following day, Monday, the most hated day of the week, brought with it bad news, as expected. I thought everything was over, or there would be a suspension to follow up the case.

But the school authorities had something much more gruesome in mind. Addams was dragged to the front of the assembly ground and publicly disgraced.

He was called names that were meant for roadside stray dogs as he lay flat on his face. All this, just because he didn't fit into their system.

As if that wasn't enough, he was brutally flogged again for refusing to give up the name of his accomplice.

In the end, he was expelled from the school, which, in a way, was the only good thing that came out of this whole ordeal. Now he could go somewhere else far away from here and start a new life, free from judging eyes. But the problem still remained. No matter where he went, as long as he remained in Africa, he could never be free from the pitchforks and burning torches of society. That was the cross he had to carry as an African gay man.

I couldn't stay until the end of the assembly because tears and pain were already on the brink of my eyelids, ready to gush out. I found a way to sneak out of the assembly ground and straight to my classroom. There it was, neatly folded on my desk, another letter.

I hurriedly hid it before anyone else saw it, and when I was sure the coast was clear, I opened it to read.

["I saw the brave and courageous thing you did yesterday. It warmed my heart to know that I am in love with such a compassionate person. This is one of the reasons why I know we are meant to be together, and maybe one day we will be. But until then, I remain your anonymous secret admirer.

With much love,

XOXO

From your future soul mate."]

"Oh, my Zeus..."