The Order of Nature

by Josh Scheinert

  “I’m sorry, Maya, but I cannot share anymore. Once our investigation is complete and any individual is formally charged, all information will be available through the courts as is the ordinary practice.”

  There was little else Maya could extract from a usually verbose bureaucrat who had suddenly become frustratingly obstinate. Not wanting to give up so easily, she offered courteous reminders about diplomatic and consular protocol, expectations of reciprocity, and the rule of law. All of which fell on deaf ears.

  “The Government of The Gambia has been clear and consistent in its position on these heinous offenses and those people who commit them.”

  Those people.

  Maya knew any more attempts to extract information would be futile, so she hung up the phone and called someone she was certain would be able to discover what was actually happening if he didn’t already know.

  Maya and Suleiman shared a friendship and an unofficial working relationship. They had many friends in common and over time had grown close. One evening over drinks, Suleiman shared information he learned about a government program. Maya had found it particularly interesting and was surprised she hadn’t heard it herself. It was nothing groundbreaking, but the information proved reliable in the end. Maya came to appreciate the limits of official government communication and realized it might be useful to at times take advantage of her friendship with Suleiman. His privileged position as a well-connected journalist in a small country sometimes proved the only way for her to get a straight answer.

  Maya assumed her phone call to Suleiman would be nothing more than a routine off-the-record request for information. She was far more concerned with what her next steps would be if in fact Andrew had been taken into custody. It was the type of arrest no one wanted to deal with. Her efforts on behalf of someone accused of homosexual activity would cloud her relationships with almost every other local she interacted with, professionally and personally. There was no way the government, once it went public, was not going to do all it could to push its narrative of traditional African values standing up against the onslaught of the West’s culture of immoral hedonism. Maya, who would be responsible for offering whatever consular assistance she could, would become a public face of that culture. She wanted her remaining months in Gambia to pass anonymously. Now she’d be working on a story at the center of the media and political worlds. It would be a huge headache for her at a time when she needed it least. She hoped Andrew had run away with his local boyfriend, or contracted malaria and was lying in a hospital bed somewhere.

  Maya asked Suleiman if he knew of any Americans arrested in the past week, to which he said he didn’t.

  “None at all? None arrested quietly under the anti-gay laws?”

  “What!? Where did you hear this?” Suleiman shot back.

  “Nowhere. But a British girl came to see me this morning. Her friend, an American, hasn’t been seen or heard from in about a week and she thinks he might be missing.”

  “The friend is gay?”

  “Yes. And apparently he is dating a local man.”

  Suleiman’s heart sank. He opened his mouth to ask a question but forgot what he was going to ask.

  “Suleiman? Do you know something? Can you find out?”

  “Let me try. I’ll call you back,” he said as he hung up abruptly.

  Suleiman rushed out of a cafe where he was working and into a taxi and headed towards the hotel. If Thomas had been arrested and his phone was still on, he didn’t want the police to see his contact showing up. It was still early in the day, but Thomas would have been at work by then.

  In the taxi he tried to think of the last time he saw or spoke to his friend. He couldn’t exactly remember. It had been some time, longer than usual.

  At the hotel, he briskly made his way through the lobby out back to the pool. Behind the bar was a man with his back turned to him. He was much taller than Thomas. When he eventually turned around, Suleiman didn’t recognize him. He found a waiter who looked familiar and inquired if Thomas was working that day and what time he might come in.

  “Thomas hasn’t been here for several days. Nobody has seen or heard from him. They were pretty angry at first.”

  “And now?”

  “Confused. It’s not like him.”

  “Has anyone called him?”

  “They tried but didn’t reach him.”

  It had to be true.

  Suleiman thought about the likelihood that someone who mattered might know about his friendship with Thomas. Then he wondered if he shouldn’t have been more insistent about him leaving the country. Then he wondered what they were doing to his friend. But he didn’t wonder for long. He had a pretty good idea.

  Suleiman sat down at a table near the pool. He ordered himself a juice. Even though they were being coy with Maya, no police officer would knowingly arrest an American and keep him detained without someone in the government being aware. A police officer or district commander would never hold an American without offering consular assistance unless those were his instructions. He knew exactly who he needed to call.

  The official in the Justice Minister’s office boasted and hid nothing. He was proud. “We arrested them several days ago. We are almost finished the investigation before charges are officially brought.”

  “When will it become public?”

  “Any day now.”

  Suleiman said nothing. His source continued to brag that this would be a significant victory for the government, “and for the whole nation.” Of course Suleiman must be happy too, the man suggested. He worked for the country’s largest newspaper and this would be his story. “The Americans will be furious. But we have been very clear about these acts.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You must be excited for your career. This will be good for you.”

  “I know,” he muttered, before thanking his source for his time and information.

  “It is my pleasure,” he responded, adding how the government planned to turn this into a big story, with a lot of media attention. It would make up for the last, embarrassing attempt. The trial would be well publicized and the punishment, harsh. He spoke as if the whole thing was already planned out. Suleiman noticed his source was so eager to brag that it never occurred to him to ask how Suleiman found out.

  “How were they discovered?”

  “The American had a maid.”

  “Of course.”

  After hanging up the phone Suleiman took in a deep breath. He tilted his head back and let it hang for a while with his eyes closed. He thought about what was to come. His friend, who was most likely being abused by his jailers, would be paraded before the country as a pariah. Pastors and imams would call him a disease from which the country must be cured. His family would likely completely abandon him. He’d have no one.

  But he wasn’t only focused on Thomas and what this would mean for him, he also thought about himself.

  Suleiman knew he would be expected to cover the trial. His reporting beat included law and order and this, especially because it involved an American, would be huge. And it would be unthinkable, and perhaps dangerous, for his coverage of the trial to support any position but the one advanced by the state in its crusade to purge homosexuality from African shores. He was scared and ashamed for when Thomas would see him next and hoped his friend would know that he too was trapped.

  He exhaled, brought his head forward, and opened his eyes. It was a bright day. In front of him was the undisturbed water of an empty, perfectly tended swimming pool. The manicured grounds around it so peaceful and inviting. From the bottom of his eyes, Suleiman glanced at his phone on the table. It stared up at him. He had to call Maya back but chose to wait, just a few more minutes, so he could sit, savor the silence, and finish his juice.

  Maya answered her phone right away.

  “They’re at the police headquarters, with Serious Crimes, both of them.”

  “How long have they been there?”

  “I do
n’t know. They were arrested Sunday night. They may have both been at the NIA first.”

  NIA. The National Intelligence Agency. She knew what that meant.

  A flood of questions followed and Suleiman told her what he knew. When would they be charged? What are the charges? Is there any actual evidence? Are they being held together? Do they know Andrew’s an American? Does the prison population know what they’re suspected of? Did he know why they never contacted the embassy? Who is the other man?

  “He is a close friend of mine.”

  Maya paused before responding incisively. “What? Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. Thomas. I have known him for years. He stayed in my house for a while not long after he arrived in Banjul. He’s from a smaller village on the river.”

  Maya was stunned.

  “Maya, they’re going to make an example out of them. Especially after the last try.”

  “I figured they would.” A checklist of what she’d have to do next was growing in her head.

  “Will you be able to help them?”

  “Them?”

  Her reaction hit Suleiman square in the face. For Maya and whatever resources the U.S. government would expend, there was no them, only Andrew.

  “I mean, what if they are charged together? Then they would only need one lawyer right?”

  “Perhaps.” The list in Maya’s head grew longer. She became short. “Suleiman, I need to go and speak to the Ambassador and we’ll have to make some calls.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you for the information. You’re reliable as always. I’ll keep you as updated as I can about the situation and about your friend.” Looking down at her scribbled notes she couldn’t see his name written down anywhere. “What was his name again?”

  “Thomas.”

  “Right, Thomas.”

  “How long have you known about Thomas and Andrew’s relationship?”

  “From the beginning.”

  8

  Several months before, there was a text message on Suleiman’s phone from Thomas.

  can i c u?

  Suleiman couldn’t remember the last time he received a text from Thomas, let alone one asking for them to get together. Suleiman always initiated. Given the imbalance between them – Suleiman, the son of a high-level official and a promising young journalist, and Thomas, a lonely, poor village boy who’d been sleeping in the back of a restaurant – Thomas was always careful not to appear dependent or too needy as their friendship took hold. He was deeply appreciative of Suleiman for his kindness. He did not want to jeopardize it by taking advantage. He tried not to expect anything.

  For his part, Suleiman wasn’t entirely certain what drew him to Thomas, who was several years younger. They were from different worlds and lived different lives. Suleiman certainly knew plenty of other people who didn’t share his fortunes. Still, there was something about Thomas that Suleiman liked. Contrasted with the ministry officials and their privileged children and those in the media playing the government’s game, Thomas stood out to Suleiman for his sincerity and simplicity. He was warm. He was the type of disadvantaged person more fortunate people want to help – a nice guy trying his best to make it. Suleiman saw him as someone dealt a difficult hand who needed a little push. And he had the means to help.

  Thomas had tried to say no when Suleiman invited him to move in with him. It was far too generous an offer for Thomas to accept.

  “You’re being foolish,” Suleiman said, before adding he wouldn’t have to pay anything. Thomas had to hide his tears.

  The generosity, which Thomas didn’t think he deserved, made him uncomfortable.

  “Thomas, my flat is big enough. It’s silly to have an empty room, and your living arrangements could certainly use an upgrade. Once you’re able to move out on your own, you can. But until then, you need a proper place to sleep.”

  Suleiman’s first reaction to the text message was that Thomas needed money. He always worried his friend might fall into financial trouble. Between low wages and job insecurity, Thomas had a small margin to work with.

  They met later in the morning near the hotel at a roadside restaurant, which was mostly empty owing to the early hour. Thomas waited at a table in the back, dressed for work and sitting on a white plastic chair looking around anxiously. A bottle of Fanta sat full with a straw poking out. As soon as he sent the text message he started second-guessing himself. He knew Suleiman could be trusted and would be sympathetic to his situation. Still, he was nervous. Thomas had never confided in anyone before.

  Seeing Suleiman’s wide smile as he approached reassured Thomas. He eagerly hugged his friend, holding the tight embrace a second longer in an attempt to signal this was not a regular greeting.

  “My friend, it’s been too long,” Suleiman said while still holding onto Thomas’s shoulders.

  “I know. You must be keeping busy. How is work?”

  “Ahhh. It is too hectic.” Suleiman proceeded to tell Thomas about some of the stories he’d worked on since his last visit to the hotel, back when he came to warn him about rumored crackdowns against gays and lesbians – something Suleiman worried might have overstepped the limits of their friendship, even if it hadn’t pressed Thomas to admit anything. The rumor hadn’t amounted to anything he could discover as of yet. Instead, his focus over the past months had been on new government anti-corruption efforts. A special investigator was appointed by the president to look into corrupt practices of senior bureaucrats.

  “Your father?”

  “No, no. My father is fine. As clean as they come. And he knows how to play the game to stay onside. It’s the others who run afoul. Many of his friends.”

  Suleiman paused, realizing it was Thomas who wanted to meet.

  “Sorry! I know you didn’t ask to meet me so we could talk about politics.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t know where to start what I have to say.”

  It was true.

  In debating how he would tell his friend, Thomas went back and forth on whether he should start from the beginning or the end. While he was sure Suleiman could be counted on, there was still some risk in disclosing everything about Andrew, especially since Andrew hadn’t been consulted. But that was the most exciting part. Merely coming out to Suleiman only affirmed a truth that long went unspoken between them, cutting short the story without its happy ending.

  “I met someone,” Thomas began. He scrutinized a silent and still Suleiman for reactions as he spoke. “His name is Andrew. We’ve been becoming friendly for many months now. But last night it became something more.”

  Suleiman didn’t immediately react and the usual look of concerned desperation radiating from his eyes now put Thomas on edge. He tried to project confidence, hiding his fear so Suleiman wouldn’t see him as weak or vulnerable. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

  “You’re not,” Suleiman answered, shaking his head quickly to dispel any doubt. “I’m happy for you. I don’t judge you,” he said without much emotion. “People must be free to live their lives the way they choose.”

  Suleiman’s matter-of-fact reaction didn’t bother Thomas. Anything more would have been contrived. Even though Suleiman had studied in South Africa, the safest spot on the continent for a gay person, Thomas knew he probably still didn’t fully comprehend homosexuality. But a lack of understanding was vastly preferable to the alternative. Even his suggestion that Thomas chose to live this way didn’t bother him – it was a level of ignorance he could accept. If someone from his own background accepted him, he couldn’t be infected by a foreign disease as so many other people would want to believe. Suleiman’s support affirmed that he wasn’t some pariah. He was who he was. Maybe there was a place for him.

  “How did you meet him?” Suleiman inquired gently.

  Thomas told him everything. How one day while working at the bar as usual and minding his own business he noticed someone. He wasn’t looking to find someone, and certainly
wasn’t looking to find a guest of the hotel, but it was one of those unexpected moments to which you have no choice but to respond.

  “The moments that change things,” added Suleiman.

  “Yes! Exactly.” He appreciated that his friend understood.

  “I admire your patience. Myself, I don’t think I would have been able to wait so long before speaking to Andrew. Well, not Andrew,” he clarified awkwardly. They laughed together, bringing their friendship back into focus. “Where is he from?”

  “He’s American. White, American,” Thomas qualified.

  Suleiman nodded and Thomas had a hard time interpreting it. He spent so much time around foreigners, the fact that he now found himself with a white foreigner shouldn’t have been a shock.

  “You have enough in common?” Suleiman asked.

  “Yes. This was something I worried about. But I guess in a way it’s like you and me. Sometimes people don’t have much in common. For whatever reason, they are able to move past all their differences to find common things to share. From being around so many Americans, especially the Peace Corps ones, many of the things he speaks about, or the slang he uses, I have heard before.”

  “Does he understand about you? About where you come from?”

  “Maybe a bit. He’s learning.”

  Thomas didn’t want to bore his friend with too many details but wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to finally share his life with someone. He gave an abridged version of the months of flirting and conversations between him and Andrew. He mentioned Friday nights and how they came to know each other, and contrasted the intimacy of Friday nights with their public meetings when Andrew would show up at the pool with expat friends on weekends.

  “Those are tougher. We must pretend.”

  “You said last night it became more than you just being friends.”

  “Yes,” Thomas answered, and for the first time smiled in a way that freely showed off his excitement. “We kissed,” he said proudly.

  “I’m happy for you,” said Suleiman.

  “Thank you,” Thomas answered with a school boy’s grin.