by Young
But amid his stern reprehension, I detected a smirk. He was obviously enjoying his role as a reprimanding doyen.
As soon as Jules walked away, I taunted my buddy again, stirring another rumpus from squealing Kim. This time our instructor barked, “Both of you, come see me after dinner! We need to talk!” We immediately quieted down.
As soon as his back was turned, Kim muttered, “We are in deep shit.”
“Really?” I said, smiling to myself.
“You’re truly inscrutable, you moron! He cried.
“He’s sending us to clean the toilets.”
I sniggered at his assessment but did not respond.
When the hoopla finally subsided, I said to my tent-mate, “You didn’t finish telling me what transpired between the two of you.”
Not wanting to have anything to do with me, the boy walked away.
1968
Panic
We returned to Assalamu Alaikum to find our two chaperones Coraline and Zac, distressed over the disappearance of Narnia and Albert. The two E.R.O.S. recruits had vanished without a trace. When the sheik was informed, he sent word to the entire household.
The chauffeur confided that they had ridden off with Azil and Haalib. The princes had pestered their beloved father to buy them each Honda CB450 Black Bombers, and although Sheik Khalid, the boys’ father did not take kindly to the idea of giving his sons such precarious playthings, he had given in to their inveigle nagging. He had made them promise not to do anything that would imperil their lives.
The moment their new toys arrived, off they zoomed with Narnia and Albert in tow (in fact, Narnia had taken the wheel with the inexperienced Haalib behind her) without informing any of the household members. In response, the pragmatic Fahrib gathered Victor, Zac, Andy, Coraline and me to discuss how best to handle the situation. He knew upon their return they would be reproached for their actions by both sheiks.
The four did not reappear until the wee hours of the morning, intoxicated from excessive liquor and drug use. They were in no shape or form for a firm castigation from either the Emir or his Excellency. The princes were dispatched home immediately, while Albert and Narnia spent the remainder of the night puking up a storm. By the time they emerged that late afternoon, they’d had earfuls from their respective guardians as well as the formidable Fahrib, who in normal circumstances was a man of few words.
The abominable four had missed their morning tutorials, leaving me alone in class with the Señor. This gave Triqueros the opportunity to make small talk.
“How are you today, young man?”
“I’m fine, sir,” I answered restively.
“Tell me what’s bothering you. Can I help?” my teacher questioned. A pause followed before he resumed, “Pray, tell me that you are not harbouring emotional attachments to any of the men we had fun with yesterday.”
I kept silent. I dared not divulge my infatuation with my kind-hearted master and the athletic machismo Tad. I wanted to savour this sentiment for myself, yet my teacher seemed to have read my thoughts. He changed the subject.
“Today’s lesson is about Homoeroticism in classical Arabian literature.”
I nodded. I did my best to concentrate on what he had to say. “In the early days of the Ottoman empire, a variety of poetic anthologies, biographical dictionaries and belletristic works were written about same-sex love between adults and teenage boys. These types of pederastic relationships of prominent poets, religious scholars and political notables are widely accepted.
“Love between a teenage youth and an older man was not objectionable, and certainly not punishable, even though homosexuality was a felony.”
“Why, then, is it forbidden in contemporary Sharjah?” I asked.
Victor tittered before replying, “You must understand, Young, sexuality in the Arab world, be it heterosexuality or homosexuality, is not a relationship between two equals as we were taught at the Bahriji. It is a relationship of power between the dominant and the dominated. The distinction between the active/dominant/top and the passive/subordinate/bottom – the male being the penetrator and the female the penetrated – carries much shame for the receiving partner, though the evaluation of the ‘giving’ partner is ambiguous.
“Within the masculine ideal, the ‘giver’ emerges from the sexual encounter with his honour enhanced. But, from the perspective of conformity with society’s religious and moral norms, the penetrated is dishonoured.”
I couldn’t help but think of the Prince and the Sheik, whose sexual roles were ambivalent.
I questioned, “What happens when both partners interchange in their sexual roles?”
Victor paused before he expressed, “Your question ignites me to explain ‘the will not to know’ in the Arabic culture. Even though homoeroticism is prevalent in classical literature, same-sex relations between men could never be made public. The concept of silencing sexuality and keeping it in a private domain can be explained by what one may term as ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.
“The apparent tolerance of homosexual practices in Islamic societies depends on an enduring and widespread pattern of collective denial. Whether the homosexual activity is based on age difference or gender definition, it should never be acknowledged publicly.
“Furthermore, if the man is an ‘object of sexual relations,’ he will lose face and honour in society. It boils down to the fact that a man should never allow another man to bugger him. Otherwise, he loses his standing in society if others find out. The decisive line is not between the act kept secret and the act made known public, but the talking behind one’s back, between rumours and public knowledge.”
My tutor’s explanation had made me realize the dilemma behind my master’s despondencies – he could never live openly as a gay man. He would always have to live within a web of lies, veiled by the security of traditional marriage.
I was in contemplation when Triqueros tapped my shoulder. “Are you with me, Young?” he questioned with concern.
I nodded, indicating for him to continue.
“In ancient Arabia, homosexuality was age-structured, involving bearded, mature men in love with beardless teenagers like you and Albert. The beard is a sign of manhood and masculinity.
“Many Arabian poets described the object of their love as an adolescent boy, going to great lengths to describe “desirable” physical features.
● This ideal young man is always brown and slender.
● His waist is supple and thin like a willow branch or like a lance.
● His hair, black as scorpions.
● The hair that falls on his forehead curls like the Arabic alphabets.
● His eyes are arcs with hurl arrows.
● His cheeks are roses.
● His saliva has the sweetness of honey.
● Last but not least, his buttocks resemble a dune of moving sand. When he walks, you could call him a young faun. When he is motionless, he eclipses the brightness of the moon.”
At this juncture, my professor gave me a beguiling smile, before adding, “You, Young are a perfect specimen of this ideal.”
My eyes widened and my face turned red as embarrassment gushed through my person. I had never thought of myself in such a manner. But now I knew the reasons I was sought after by dominant, bearded Arab men. I understood why I had the power to make men feeble in the knees and languid at my commands. Victor’s words that morning certainly took on a new meaning in my adolescent life.
Before I could continue to bask in this glorious revelation, my teacher suggested, “Use your temporal assets wisely, or you may end up like many before you, in self destructive jeopardy.”
I stared at him, speechless. “Pay attention, young man…” he proceeded slowly. “There are four basic homoerotic notions in Arab societies:
* First, the acknowledgment of male beauty, even in other males’ eyes, and its capability of inducing ‘fitna’ (disorder).
* Second, the recognition of the natural v
ulnerability of a grown man to be charmed by a handsome adolescent, to the point that mainstream scholars and theologians urged readers to resist the related temptation that follows this natural appreciation.
* Third, the affirmation that love and passion exist hand in hand with related dangers - and not just sexual desires - that might be the driving force in a man-to-man attraction.
* Fourth, and certainly not the least, the focus in classical literature and poetry on man-boy love, whereas grown male attraction is marginalized and regarded as mujun (ribaldry) or sukhf (obscenity).”
Señor Victor Angel Triqueros added, “No social definition of homosexuality existed in the Arab world during the reign of the Ottoman Empire. There was no native concept applicable to all and only those men who were sexually attracted to members of their own sex rather than to women. Therefore, no single word exists in Arabic to describe men engaging in same-sex relationships. But there is a categorization of sexual acts: language that uses such specific terms as liwat (anal sex), luti (active sodomite who prefers boys over women, ma’bun (passive sodomite), mukhannath (effeminate passive sodomite), mu’ajir (passive male prostitute), dabb (active sodomite who likes raping his victims in their sleep regardless of their age), musahiqa (lesbian), along with a string of others.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Andy had arrived to collect me. We were scheduled for a luncheon appointment with the infamous champion polo player, titlist camel racer and nautical enthusiast, the hot-blooded Tad.
Before Señor Triqueros finalized the last segment of our morning session, he advised, “Your Valet and I trust your good judgement. Remember, we are here to serve, not to fall in love.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Infectious Infatuation
“Charismatic charmers often leave a string of broken hearts trailing behind them.”
Bernard Tristan Foong
First Week of January 2013
Continuation of my Message to Andy (part 5)
Hi Andy,
Are you back from your Tasmanian rowing expedition? Did your team win? I hope so. If I remember correctly, you were always an excellent rower and your teammates at Daltonbury Hall venerated your feathering mastery. I’d love to hear your adventures. ☺
Back To My OBSS Escapades
As we headed to Jules’ makeshift office (a classroom temporarily converted), Kim was overtly skittish. He had surmised we would be consigned to cleaning the OBSS lavatories as punishment for our playful misdemeanour. I assured the teenager that that wouldn’t be the case; a more propitious outcome would be in order. Yet, he continued to brood, blaming me for my impertinence. Instead of arguing with him, I kept silent.
I couldn’t help but notice a sardonic smug on Jules’ handsome face when we entered.
“Young, will you keep watch outside while I have a word with this young man?” he instructed.
I sat on a nearby bench, waiting my turn. Minutes passed, and I needed to use the restroom. I wasn’t sure if I should leave, in the event I would be called upon, but I decided to go. Just as I was finishing my business, I heard a commotion outside.
In states of disarray, my leader and tent-mate were being escorted out of the office by a couple of burly guards from the senior officer’s HQ. I was shocked to witness such an unanticipated occurrence. For a brief moment, Kim looked my direction before they marched into the darkness. The unforgettable terror on his face was of a man about to be hanged.
It didn’t take long for rumours to circulate around camp that the two were caught red-handed doing unspeakable things to one another. Yet, none of the gossipmongers could provide a definitive account.
The next day, Jules and Kim were gone. They had both been hastily expelled without having a chance to say goodbye. My three remaining days at OBSS, I was flummoxed.
It was my final evening in Singapore when the truth came to light. My ex-OBSS leader was coming out of a bar in Bugis Street when I stumbled upon him. It was then that I heard the entire narrative from the horse’s mouth.
1968
Reprehension
That evening after my luncheon engagement with Tad, Señor Triqueros assembled the E.R.O.S. recruits to meet with the doctor in his study. Narnia and Albert were not in the best of form when they arrived with their respective chaperones; they knew they would be facing serious admonishments from the sheik. They did not look buoyant while we waited for our host to appear.
When the doctor finally emerged, he was not a happy camper.
“Disappearing without notice! What were the both of you thinking?” he demanded. “On top of that, you absconded with my nephews, causing anguish to your guardians and the entire household.” He paused to give Narnia and Albert a chance to explain themselves. Instead, they lowered their heads in embarrassment and said nothing.
“I’m not surprised if my nephews coerced you to misbehave, but you should know better than to adhere to their suasion,” our host expressed sternly.
Triqueros gave tongue to soften the reprehension. “Your Excellency, they are young and eager to please the princes. I’ll make sure their chaperones accompany them wherever they go in the future and this will not happen again.” He looked to Coraline, Zac and Andy for assurance. They nodded in agreement.
“This time, I’ll forgive the two of them. If this happens again, I’ll send them back to the Bahriji,” the doctor pronounced unapologetically.
Our teacher ensured, “I’ll make certain it will not, sir.”
The sheik announced, “I’ll take your word as collateral for their misdemeanour.”
On this final note, he released Narnia, Albert and their chaperones.
Our host bid Andy and me to remain.
“I like to have a word with the two of you,” he expressed.
I looked at my professor, wondering if he had any idea why we were asked to stay. Instead, he gave me a sly grin and said nothing.
Fahrib’s Behest
Fahrib enquired as soon as the door closed behind us. “How was your meeting with Tad?”
Andy replied on my behalf, “It went well, sir. He wanted Young and me to visit his home…”
Before my Valet could continue, the sheik remarked, “Did he now?”
Andy added, “I told him I had to obtain your permission before we agreed to his request.”
“That’s very respectful of you, Andy. It’s good you came to me for permission, as I’m responsible for my guests, and it is not safe outside the walls of my estate. There are opposing factions that will not hesitate to harm my family and guests,” counselled the sheik.
“But I’ve something to ask of Young.” He turned in my direction. “Shahria and Roya asked if they could meet with you. They would like your input on some fashion related issues – something I know nothing about.” He smiled. “I told them you had dressed the Kosk and the Sekham women. They are intrigued by your fashion sense, and they have been pestering me to talk to you. Will you see them at the female quarters tomorrow after your tutorials? Jabril will accompany you as your translator and go-between.”
I twittered excitedly, “Of course, sir. I’m honoured to be of assistance to your beloved wives.”
“My wives are not the only women who want to meet you. Their cousins and relatives will also be joining them. You’ll have a handful to deal with,” he declared humorously.
“Jabril will collect you and Andy after class and accompany you to the women’s salon.”
On that note, he departed to pay a visit to his nephews and their father.
What Transpired?
Victor had remained quiet throughout the sheik’s directive. He couldn’t wait to ask about my meeting with Tad.
He questioned, “What did Tad want from you?”
While I was taken aback by my teacher’s candour, Andy stepped in. “As I mentioned to the sheik, he wants us to pay a visit to his home.”
“Is he smitten by Young?” my teacher blurted.
He opined without giving us a ch
ance to reply, “I knew it! No hot-blooded Arab male can resist this perfect specimen.”
As much as I was flattered by my professor’s remark, I was also flustered by his pronouncement. I had never thought of myself as a personification of an Arab man’s ideal, and never had I consciously considered my physical attributes an object of desire. Although I accepted my amorosity and carnality as parts of my genetic heritage, Victor’s newly bestowed laurel had instilled a sense of pride within my person.
I couldn’t bask in this reverie for long before Andy returned me to reality. “Don’t inculcate this boy with such aptitude. He is already full of himself. Otherwise, his prudency will get the better of him,” my chaperone cautioned.
Señor Triqueros quipped wickedly, “So, the champion wants more from your charge. You should auction him off to the highest bidder.”
Andy bantered, “Trust me – he’s been there. He was a ‘batcha’ at the Sekham. That’s how we met Prince P.”
“I see! Now, he is soon to be another man’s favourite. This boy certainly uses his bag of tricks,” my teacher joshed.
Both mentors laughed at their idiosyncrasy, while I was not amused.
Lunch with Tad
Despite Andy’s and my teacher’s flippancies, my lunch with Tad had been quite serious. The Arab was the epitome of a well-to-do gentleman. His courtly manner did not suit the fervent lover I had met; this titleholder’s public persona was that of a well-respected pillar of Arabian society. He was his countrymen’s hero, even though in private, he was a quintessential naughty boy.