The Order of Nature

by Josh Scheinert

  Not all church services demonized gays, but when they did, their pastor spared nothing. Thomas’s last Sunday in the village was one of those mornings, the hyperbolic hysteria on full display.

  “...And watch your children. Lock their bedroom doors at night, because you know who lurks when you are unsuspecting. I do not need to tell you that the gays will come when you least suspect it, take your children and recruit them into their cult of sickness and evil.

  “We must always stay alert! Our future as proud Christians, as proud African Christians, depends on it. We want a future where our savior Jesus Christ and his teachings will reign. This cannot happen in a world controlled by the conniving gays.”

  Thomas looked around as the pastor spoke. It was his father’s face he would remember the most. Thomas’s father was one of the more relaxed men in the village, at times he played the role of the joker. He rarely got angry. He made one feel at ease. It was for this precise reason that Thomas remembered his father’s face so vividly. As the pastor spoke, as he cursed the homosexual, Thomas’s father displayed a sense of conviction he had seldom seen before. His father, who never got worked up over anything, was now swaying violently back and forth with the pastor’s words.

  “So join me, my brothers and sisters! Join me in building a world that leaves no place for these people. Let us build a future free of these sinners. Let us work together to make sure the African-Christian purity is never diluted. AMEN!”

  “AMEN!”

  It was a deafening chorus. Everyone took part, Thomas’s parents, his brothers, all his extended family, neighbors, and people he only barely knew.

  It was the final straw. Thomas couldn’t take the feeling of slow suffocation any longer. Two days later, on a sunny and peaceful morning when he was just sixteen, Thomas told his family he was leaving for the capital. Although he was a strong student, he was dropping out of school in favor of finding work.

  “I will be able to make money for the family and send it back home, so you can buy more land,” he told his parents in an attempt to persuade them. It was the only way he thought they’d agree to the move.

  After his parents talked between themselves for a short while, Thomas’s father came to see him. “Fine. You can go.”

  For the first time in his life, he’d be alone. The prospect was frightening and liberating. The next day he left on the back of a motorbike with his few belongings in his knapsack.

  For all the successes of his new, city life, Thomas still kept mostly to himself outside of work. He lied to his brother saying he lived with friends, and was grateful Sheriff never pressed him on it, seeming equally content to live separate lives. The one exception to Thomas’s solitude, his only friend, was Suleiman. A few years older, more mature, Suleiman was the caring big brother Thomas never had. When Thomas was new to the city and working as a waiter in a restaurant, he befriended Suleiman, who often ate there. Over time they grew close and when Suleiman learned Thomas slept in the back of the restaurant he insisted Thomas stay with him.

  Suleiman came from an upper-class family. His father was a top bureaucrat in the finance ministry and curried favor with the government. Suleiman excelled in school and because of his father’s privileged position, earned a scholarship to study journalism in South Africa. He returned to Gambia and immediately landed a job as a reporter at a prominent newspaper. He started covering municipal issues, but was promoted to writing on national affairs, including crime and security. While the paper was very supportive of the government, he wasn’t. His time in South Africa gave him perspective on some of the country’s challenges, which he blamed the government for. He lamented the apathy he saw around him and wished others would break its paralysis. Still, he knew his boundaries and the rules he had to play by if he was going to stay out of trouble. Suleiman decided to toe the line in order to unravel it.

  Because of Suleiman’s professional success, and for helping him adjust to his new life, Thomas always looked up to Suleiman and felt completely free around him. But he never came out to him. The societal taboo against men discussing their feelings meant neither Thomas nor Suleiman ever brought up the discussion.

  In the back of Thomas’s mind, he suspected Suleiman might have figured it out. During his year in South Africa he’d been exposed to gay culture in ways most Gambians had not. Thomas may not have fed into traditional stereotypes, but he shied from the mention of women or talk of a family in his future. He was relieved it didn’t affect their friendship. Even so, Thomas was still too nervous to say something. He had a good friend and a place to stay.

  Once Thomas began working at the hotel they saw each other less. Still, Suleiman occasionally dropped by for a drink. Many times he used the opportunity to gently express his frustration with some new governmental development he didn’t like. Thomas, disconnected from politics, was the one person with whom Suleiman felt comfortable ragging on the government without having to worry his opinions might land him in trouble.

  So one evening, when Suleiman sat down at Thomas’s empty bar, there was nothing immediately unusual about their banter. But quickly, Suleiman’s face turned serious. He told Thomas he’d spent the past two days looking into rumors that the government and police force were starting to crack down on people suspected of being gay or lesbian.

  Thomas froze. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. No one knows. First off, who is suspected to be gay or lesbian? How does one even get on such a list – I have no idea. But what I’ve heard is that they want to use this issue to bring people together. To promote what they say are national and African values, whatever that means. Food prices are rising and I guess they need to find a new distraction. They go after the easy targets.”

  Thomas didn’t know what to say. He tried to busy himself behind the bar.

  “Thomas.”

  “Yes,” he said as he looked up at his friend.

  “Please be careful.”

  Hesitantly, Thomas nodded. He thought about saying something but no words came to him. He felt vulnerable. Although he grew to trust Suleiman, he felt uncomfortable confirming his secret. It was obvious now that Suleiman knew, but it was another thing for him to know.

  “You know as well as I do, this place can be unpredictable. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t want something to happen to you. And please don’t worry. You don’t have to say anything or be concerned. I didn’t come here to scare you or force you to have a conversation you don’t want to have. But you’re my close friend and I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

  Suleiman paused and offered Thomas a sympathetic smile, hoping to reassure him. “Maybe one day our world won’t be so upside down.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something,” Thomas muttered stoically.

  “It would be.”

  And with that, Suleiman stood up, said goodbye, and left Thomas standing alone at the empty bar.

  4

  Andrew stepped out of the pool. It was later in the afternoon when most people had started going home. He walked to his belongings, picked up his towel, and started to dry himself off. He rubbed the towel on his hair, covering his face. As he moved the towel down his body, out of the corner of his eye he felt someone looking at him. It was the bartender, again, standing and staring at Andrew, completely still. Unlike other times, Andrew didn’t break away, pretending not to notice or that their eyes were merely passing each other by accident. Instead, this time, he looked back at him. The bartender also didn’t look away. In fact, once he caught Andrew’s eyes, he looked deeper.

  Andrew’s heart began beating faster. He debated looking down or smiling but couldn’t do either so he kept looking across the pool at the bartender whose name he still did not know. If people around him were moving or talking, Andrew didn’t notice. The only thing he could make out was that the bartender moved his lips enough for Andrew to see him smiling. Andrew, without thinking, did the same. He then subconsciously snapped himself out of his trance, went back
to drying himself, hurriedly leaving the pool area.

  During his trip home, and all that evening, Andrew didn’t say much. He lay in bed at night wondering if what he thought had happened actually happened. He was pretty sure it did, which intimidated him, but even more, as he pored over it, it excited him. He was sure he wasn’t reading too much into it. It wasn’t only a look. The past few weeks, all the little looks, it started to make sense. Why did it take so long for him to notice?

  The week crawled by. Time at school dragged on and evenings lingered. All Andrew wanted was for the weekend to arrive so he could go back to the hotel to ensure he wasn’t imagining things. He did manage to casually ask Alex if he knew the bartender’s name.

  “Who? Thomas?”

  Thomas. Andrew had never been overtly attracted to black men before, but he also wasn’t unattracted to them. Many of his friends at university quickly wrote off whole racial or ethnic groups. He had his preferences, if he was being honest, but kept an open enough mind that at times he even surprised himself. And from what he saw, Thomas was cute. He had a friendly face and good body. But much more importantly, it was something about how they looked at each other. Andrew hadn’t done that before, with anyone.

  More eye contact followed the next Sunday. Andrew walked up to the hotel from the beach and tried his best to pretend not to be looking for Thomas. Thomas was less guarded about his intentions. As soon as he saw Andrew he came out from behind the bar and started to put drink menus on the surrounding tables. He looked up at Andrew and smiled. Cautiously, Andrew smiled back.

  They played this game for the rest of the day. There was a shared synchronicity between them – each time one of them looked up, the other followed suit. Andrew debated walking up and asking for a drink but was too embarrassed. He’d blushed the last time they smiled at each other and hesitated to approach Thomas with so many people still around to watch them.

  He saw Thomas was very handsome that day. Like many Gambians, his hair was short. He had a gentle and inviting smile. He wasn’t tall enough to be noticed, so he moved about slowly and deliberately, almost floating, holding his head and chest high in a way that drew people to notice him. Not in a show-offy kind of way, but in an I’m here kind of way. In the absence of actual conversation, Thomas spoke with body language. He wore a tight-fitting t-shirt that hugged a defined chest and flat stomach. Small but distinct arm muscles unobtrusively pushed through the sleeves. The t-shirt was tucked into black jeans that hugged the entire lower half of his body. He was young. Andrew guessed he was a few years younger, probably around twenty.

  In the afternoon, when Andrew was sitting with only Liv and Alex, Thomas walked over.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, standing next to Andrew, choosing proximity over eye contact. Alex and Liv each ordered a beer. When it came time to take Andrew’s order Thomas turned his head down towards him, letting off a slight smirk. “And you?”

  “I’ll also have a beer,” answered Andrew, who couldn’t help but smile as Thomas walked away.

  That evening Andrew made dinner with Alex and Liv, but quickly said goodnight, closing the door to his room. He went to Skype with his sister. The conversation he was about to have was years in the making and had played out in his head so many times. The only difference was that now he was more confident and less scared about himself. He’d said barely a sentence to Thomas, who he didn’t know at all, but he felt different. He felt free to have a crush. And strangely enough, here of all places where the law forbade it, he started thinking there was a place, a space he could carve out and inhabit the same way as everyone else. As excited as he was, he knew this was just the tease of infatuation. But that was enough.

  “Linds?”

  “Hey! How’s it going? What are you doing now?”

  “It’s good thanks. I’m getting ready for bed. What’s happening at home?”

  “Honestly? Not much. I keep trying to keep track of things you’re missing, but it’s all been the same. How’s school? Did Jalloh find a third wife yet?”

  “No, but he keeps suggesting I pick up a Gambian wife.” Andrew felt himself tensing up. Lindsay always made a joke about Mr. Jalloh’s wives and Andrew planned to use it to shift the conversation.

  “Are you thinking about it?”

  “Not really,” he said, before jumping in again before she could reply. “Lindsay, I’m gay.”

  He just said it, rushing, throwing it out there, barely thinking and processing what he said, as if knowing that if he took his time, the doubt that was never far from his mind might take over. There was more to say too; years of thoughts and secrets were waiting, piled high behind a dam ready to give way. He gave her less than a second to respond but could see on his computer screen that her mouth was still. Her face at least looked sympathetic, as he’d expected, so the brother who had never been overly emotional continued to unleash himself.

  “I’ve wanted to tell you forever. I don’t know why I waited so long, and until a time when we’re so far away. I thought about doing it so many times, but I don’t know, something always came up. I promised myself I’d tell you at dinner before I left, but I chickened out then too.

  “Maybe the distance finally made it easier, I don’t know. Maybe I was scared? Not about how you’d react, but about having to admit it to myself – to actually have to say the words out loud and not be able to take it back. You’re the first person I’ve told this to. And I don’t want to pretend anymore. I can’t.”

  He kept looking at her as he spoke into his computer. “I’m sorry to spring this on you all of a sudden. I know it’s not what you expected now. I can’t. Well maybe I could. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to pretend. I don’t want to lie. I mean I’ve known all along but being here is helping me see. There’s this whole world, and I don’t want to keep shutting myself out from it.”

  He spoke so fast he barely knew what he said – it was all pouring out. He also realized he hadn’t let his sister get a word in as he stopped and looked closer at the video of Lindsay on his screen. She looked proud of him.

  “Linds?”

  “I love you Andrew,” she said through heartfelt eyes. “That isn’t going to ever change.”

  In that instant he was unshackled. The fear of an unknown life ahead, feelings of inadequacy, shame for being unable to fit in – feelings that had for years followed him everywhere he went, all became easier to cope with. Somehow, he felt he’d be okay. There were tears in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry if I ever did anything to make you think you couldn’t feel comfortable with me. And I’m sorry you had to go through this by yourself for so long.”

  Andrew smiled through his tears, amazed at his sister.

  “You never did anything,” he said trying to reassure her. “It was all in me. Something I didn’t know how to deal with. A lot of the time I wished it would go away and I’d wake up one day and realize I’d made this big mistake. Like suddenly my life would become easy instead of dealing with this. People say college is this great place for personal growth...”

  “Not the college we went to.”

  He paused to collect himself and his thoughts, sniffling and wiping his tears away.

  “Mom and Dad will freak out. I don’t know what to do about them.”

  “Nothing. There’s no rush with you over there. One step at a time.” Lindsay paused and her face showed concern. “Andrew, do you have a... a boyfriend there?”

  “No. That’d be pretty messed up.” His commentary came out automatically, by accident – the remnants of an older, guarded Andrew.

  5

  “You seem distracted.”

  Mr. Jalloh was staring through his glasses at Andrew. The two of them were sitting in his office for an end-of-week discussion. Mr. Jalloh was right, Andrew was distracted. This was the third time during their meeting he inadvertently tuned out.

  “Sorry, Mr. Jalloh. I’m listening. And I agree with what you said.”

  It was Friday aftern
oon and the anticipation proved too strong to ignore. Andrew’s step had been a bit lighter since telling his sister, but for most of the week he tried not to think too much about the start of what he thought might be a sort of liberation. As the prospect of the weekend approached, Andrew found it harder and harder not to think about Thomas and how he wanted to see him. His mind could focus on little else.

  “If you agree with me, would you be willing to double your student load? It won’t be for long, Inshallah, but it could be for some time.” Mr. Jalloh stared back at Andrew, who knew two things – he hadn’t been paying enough attention to know what Mr. Jalloh was talking about, and when a Gambian said something might take some time, they meant it.

  Andrew loved the teaching he was doing, and his students were gravitating to him. Recently the cultural barriers began falling and a true mutual understanding and appreciation was forming. They paid more attention in class, doing their assignments, which were improving, and more frequently invited him to kick soccer balls with them outside the school. He started to get the sense that they actually liked him. The thought of doubling the number of students – why, he still wasn’t exactly sure – seemed like it would frustrate some of the progress he’d made.

  “As long as you don’t think it would hurt my class dynamic.”

  “It will allow more of our students to benefit from your teaching and creative methods. It will be good for the school.”

  From the little Andrew knew of Mr. Jalloh, he knew he wasn’t going to win this debate. He smiled and accepted the compliment, knowing there was no other option and it would probably bring their meeting to a close. “Sure.”

  Going home, Andrew took a different route. Instead of heading through the side streets, unpaved sand roads crisscrossing through quiet residential neighborhoods, he opted to head down the main road lined with shops that connected to the highway. He passed between men, women, and children who somewhat noticed him, and exchanged passing looks. With a deliberate pace, he walked around the groups of commuters huddled at the road’s edge, waiting for their broken-down mini-vans or 7-7s, the converted taxi shuttles. Normally he would have peered into the few bakeries along the way to see if anything looked enticing, but this time he walked straight past them. He walked past where he should have turned off the main road too. Instead, Andrew kept going, to where the road ended and met the sand. He walked up to the edge of the beach, which was filling up with runners and walkers, found some shade, and sat down.