It was fine. I’m coming back now. Hopefully I’ll be able to see u tonight :-)
Andrew walked in earlier than Alex and Liv expected. They were sitting on the couch, eating roast chicken with chips and salad. Andrew’s face had a look when he saw them, one which said he’d hoped to have entered undetected.
“What happened?” Alex asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Thomas?”
“I was, but he canceled,” Andrew answered, closing the door, clearly disappointed.
“Is everything alright?” Liv asked.
“Yeah. It’s fine I guess.” Andrew was speaking plainly, trying to imply he was holding back something significant. “He was with his family in Banjul. He was coming back early, but when his mother found out she called him and insisted he stay the afternoon. Now he says he can’t get away. That it would be rude if he left them.”
There was a silence. While Andrew paused to give Alex and Liv an opportunity to react, their expressions suggested they expected him to keep talking and get to the point.
“Oh,” Liv said hesitantly. “Well that’s okay. You can’t argue with family. And, isn’t it nice he’s spending time with them?”
Andrew wasn’t convinced.
“What, Andrew?” Liv continued. “You can’t possibly be offended he’s with his family. It’s not like he said he doesn’t want you two to be together again.”
“No. You’re right,” he agreed. “But,” he continued unexpectedly, “the more time he spends with them, the worse it could be for us. You don’t know what they’re like. They tease him for not having a girlfriend, actually make fun of him for thinking that working at the hotel is a smart idea, and want him to live with them, where he’d have to pretend all the time, like he did before, that he’s someone he’s not. They’d make him go to church with them. They’d make him find a girlfriend and get married. They’d ruin his life.”
Liv rose, reaching for Andrew’s hand. He let her have it, and she squeezed it. As she was about to speak, Andrew sniffled. He swallowed to try to hide it, but it was too late. His eyes were sad.
They stood together for a few more seconds, hands extended into one another’s over the table covered with food. Alex sat still. These weren’t the situations he excelled in. Then, unexpectedly, he blurted out, it’s okay, Andrew. Andrew and Liv turned to Alex, letting their hands loose.
“It’s not,” Andrew responded assertively. “It’s not okay, and it’s not fair.”
Andrew told Alex and Liv how Thomas told him that when he’s with his family, he’s scared he’ll say or do something that makes them suspect him. I wouldn’t be their child any longer. I would become an outcast. Because the risk is so high, I have to be more than careful. One mistake – if I react the wrong way when they tell me I need to marry – that could be it.
“What’s it?” Alex asked. “You think his family would turn him in?”
“I asked the same question. He shrugged his shoulders at me, saying in this country, it’s not a chance anyone wants to take.”
“It’s so fucked up,” Alex said. “Turning in your own family. How do you do that?”
The three of them looked at each other, no one volunteering to respond.
“I get it. I know, not everyone has the perfect accepting family. Case and point. We all have our shit,” Andrew finally said. “Fine, life’s not easy or fair. But this hard? This unfair? He never gets a break and the stakes are so high for him,” he added, his voice quivering.
“And now he’s there. They just sit in his brother’s living room with Nigerian TV playing in the background. Every time a girl comes on either his father or brother makes a comment. Even his other brother’s wife back in the village says she knows a girl he can meet. He’s scared he won’t be able to avoid it any longer and one Sunday they’ll have her over too. So far he says work keeps him too busy.”
“None of this makes the situation hopeless, though,” Liv suggested. “You can’t change where he was born and grew up. Maybe you can’t solve all of his problems, or all of your problems. But, you can keep doing what you’re doing, which is a lot in these circumstances when you think about it. He needs you. You’re important to each other.”
“Weren’t you the one who told me not to do this?” he asked her, half joking.
She smiled at him.
“I still think you have to protect yourself. But, I do understand how important it is that you also, to the extent you can, protect him. Maybe you can’t always. Like tonight. There’s a part of his world you can’t be a part of. One you’ll probably never be a part of. For me though, as hard as that would be, it would also be motivation for the world that you two share – how it should be that much more wonderful. At least in those moments, you can forget about all the terrible.”
I know, Andrew said. He paused, glanced downwards at his feet and looked back up at Liv’s empathetic gaze. “But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t suck sometimes.”
I know, she replied.
Andrew’s phone rang, breaking the silence. He took it from his pocket and saw the number. It was Thomas. Nodding at Alex and Liv to let them know who it was, he answered.
“Hello,” he said, walking into his room, his voice trailing off as he closed the door.
They didn’t see each other that week.
Andrew and Mr. Jalloh worked into most evenings on a presentation the two of them were giving as part of an education ministry workshop the coming Friday. Originally, Mr. Jalloh was going to make the presentation with another colleague but decided that since Andrew only had a couple of months left in his placement, it might be a good opportunity for him to showcase what he had learned. He wanted Andrew to talk about how he formed such strong connections with the students, something Andrew didn’t know how to explain. He’d just shown up in class and over time earned their respect. He didn’t know how to describe disposition. Mr. Jalloh suggested he give examples of all the different group assignments Andrew assigned in class.
“Your students enjoyed the group work very much. I saw for myself how enthusiastic they were,” he insisted. “So much of our focus has been on individual learning. But I think there is tremendous potential if we incorporate group work into our teaching. So I think you can talk about that and give examples.”
The workshop took place on Friday at one of the larger schools in Banjul, which had been closed down for the day. It always amused Andrew how casual and last-minute schools could be about days off. He assumed the students were only told about it the previous afternoon.
Andrew began his presentation by addressing what he thought was one of the biggest challenges he faced in the classroom, the wildly divergent levels his students were at. He didn’t want to teach at a level that left many behind, but nor did he want to teach at a level that left the top students bored. He decided group learning, where students of different levels were placed together and forced to collaborate, would be a way to move the class forward relatively consistently and inclusively. There was no grand pronouncement or passionate proclamation. No claim to be an expert. With an understated demeanor, he gave a number of examples of successful group projects his class undertook and explained why he thought they had been a success and were worth emulating. After speaking, he took some questions from interested teachers and administrators and then sat down to applause and a giant smile and handshake from a beaming Mr. Jalloh.
That evening, he went to see Thomas at the bar. He was looking forward to just sitting and relaxing. He didn’t want to discuss the growing homophobia. Andrew ordered two rum and cokes, and Thomas was generous in pouring the rum.
“You trying to get me drunk?” Andrew asked.
Thomas giggled and Andrew looked around at the empty pool area – the pool, palm trees, neatly organized lounge chairs, the manicured plants that spilled out from the earth onto the walkways. None of it moved. Even the fountains had been turned off. The stillness of it all gave it the look of a photograph, a postcard. It almost looked pretend
to him. It was spring, which marked the beginning of the end for the tourist season, so the hotel, which was never full to begin with, had quieted down. It would be some time before the sterility would be broken up again, and now for the first time the hotel seemed oddly out of place.
“It must be expensive to run this place outside of the tourist season,” Andrew suggested.
“They reduce our wages.”
“Really?”
“Yes, by twenty-five percent.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“They keep it just above what we might make somewhere else so we don’t leave for another job.”
Thomas reached for the tip jar and held it out for Andrew. Both of them laughed.
“In America you have a minimum wage right?”
Andrew nodded.
“How much does it pay you an hour?”
Andrew’s eyes widened in thought. His serving job at the country club paid him above minimum wage but he didn’t know what it was. “I think it’s a bit over seven dollars an hour.”
“Seven dollars?” Andrew could see Thomas doing the conversion in his head. “Two hundred and fifty dalasis an hour,” he proclaimed. “What a country,” he concluded.
As he started to list some things he would buy if he were paid that amount – another pair of shoes, his own computer, a new mobile “and the DVDs of 24,” someone started walking through the hallway towards them.
Suleiman smiled and waved as he approached them, which Thomas reciprocated, but also managed to mutter under his breath to Andrew, “He only comes to see me now when there is trouble.”
“What’s that?” Suleiman asked pulling up his chair.
“I said you always come with uplifting news.”
Suleiman smiled acknowledgingly. Thomas and Andrew waited nervously.
“What news do you bring now, Mr. Reporter?”
“I can’t come and say hello?”
“You can, but you don’t,” he said as he popped the top off a bottle of Julbrew and handed it to his friend.
“On Sunday our newspaper is running an article on the front page claiming to expose a secret homosexual group that gathers at a secret location.” Thomas and Andrew’s expressions suggested they wanted to say something, but their mouths froze.
One of their reporters, he explained, had been given an anonymous tip explaining how on the first Monday of every month, in a house near the Senegambia strip not far from where they were, a small group of gays and lesbians gathered to discuss how they could advance gay and lesbian rights in Gambia. Apparently, the meetings had been going on for over a year and the activists communicated with other gay activist groups in Africa for help and advice. It didn’t completely add up, but intrigued the editors enough to run the story. It would certainly sell copies.
“Is this true? Have either of you heard about this?”
They both shook their heads.
“We don’t speak to anyone,” Thomas added. “I do not know one other gay person.”
“Our reporter was only able to get the name of the man who owns the house. His name and picture will be on the front page of the newspaper.”
“What?!” Thomas exclaimed, before looking around, realizing he’d been too loud. “Do you realize what that will do to him?”
“Yes,” Suleiman answered. “Thomas, I can’t stop them. I’m only a reporter. I don’t control the newspaper or what stories other reporters choose to follow.”
“I know.”
“There will probably be a police raid on the house. I hope the owner can get someplace safe in time.”
“Can you warn him?” Andrew asked.
“No, I couldn’t,” Suleiman answered disappointingly.
“He would be putting himself at risk,” Thomas clarified.
“Right,” said Andrew. Thomas knew that asking Suleiman to take a risk to help this man was not fair. He wasn’t sure he’d do it either. It might lead to him being exposed somehow.
“If the allegations are simply that this is a meeting group for gays and lesbians, I’m not sure how this breaks a law,” Suleiman added, trying to reassure them both.
“When was this country ever so concerned about following the laws? You have written about our police and courts,” Thomas shot back.
Suleiman was silent. He knew his friend was right. If they wanted, they would find a way to drum up charges against someone, or just detain them without any. It had all been done before.
“Do you think,” Andrew began before pausing, afraid for the answer that might follow his question. “Do you think they’ll start looking for more people? Besides those people in this group?”
“No.” Suleiman was confident, taking a drink of his beer. “The government has no interest in using its resources to target gay people. Rumors from many months ago – when I came to warn Thomas, were just rumors. They’re much happier bragging about it in speeches without having to follow up. Using it to build credibility with people.”
“Right,” Andrew replied.
Andrew left shortly thereafter. As soon as he was gone, Suleiman turned to his friend.
“Is everything okay with you two?”
“Yes, everything is perfect. That’s the problem. We have this amazing relationship, this connection. We get along together so well. But the minute we step away from whatever protected place we’re in, it’s like a grenade goes off.”
“But you’re used to it, right? Unfortunately.”
“Yes, but he’s not. It’s not his country. And I’m sure it can be strange enough on its own, without all this mess.”
“Do you think he would say something if it was too much for him?”
“Maybe.”
Suleiman asked Thomas if the pressure was too much for him to handle.
He answered right away since he’d thought about it before. “Sometimes. Most of the time no, because we do a good job of avoiding these situations. We do a good job at pretending. But other times, I worry a lot.”
He continued and told Suleiman about Liv’s experience that past Sunday and how hard it was for him to watch Andrew sit there and listen.
“He looked so frightened. It was worse because he is so innocent. He never asked for these troubles. It made me feel bad for him – he doesn’t need this. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“Neither do you,” Suleiman pointed out.
“I know, but now that bothers me less. I had a very hard time sleeping that night. I was thinking how in some way I’m responsible that he has to go through this.”
“Do you question if you should keep going with it?”
“With what? The relationship?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a hard question,” Thomas explained. “Maybe what we’re doing does not make sense. We both know this. We’ve talked about it. But because something does not make sense, does this mean you don’t do it? I can’t speak for him. Only for me. And for me the reason is simple. I don’t know that I will ever have another chance like this. You can always go and meet a girl, and be with her and find another if you don’t like her or she doesn’t like you. But I can’t. And so finally, somehow, I found someone. Shouldn’t I be able to enjoy that – even if this is how it is, even if I know it can’t last?”
Suleiman hadn’t thought of it that way before. Thomas wasn’t asking for something unreasonable. He just wanted a chance. “I can’t argue with that,” he replied before looking at his watch. He said he was happy Thomas had this, and of course, he deserved it and more. “But look after yourself too.”
17
Andrew was sitting eating breakfast with Alex, reporting Suleiman’s news from the night before, when they heard the front gate creak open.
“It’s Liv,” Alex said, standing up. “We should get ready. Go and get this over with.”
“Gamcel,” Andrew sighed. “It’s like a part of me dies each time I deal with them.”
The three of them were off to Gamcel, their phone and internet service provider. Th
e company released a new internet rocket stick it claimed was significantly faster than the ones they were using. Alex’s placement was soon up, but Andrew and Liv were eager to take advantage of a faster, more reliable internet connection.
“It’s funny how slow it’s going to be to get faster service,” Andrew joked.
Alex and Liv laughed.
“Alright boys. Saturday errands. Put shirts on,” Liv ordered, ending breakfast.
They walked to the Gamcel building on Kairaba Avenue to discover that countless other Gambians were waiting to do the same thing. They walked upstairs to the waiting area, took a number a long way away from the one being served, and saw that all the chairs were taken. The staff – young Gambians in jeans and t-shirts – busied about behind the counter, serving clients of various ages, in an assortment of Western and traditional dress, who held out old-model laptops, multiple mobile phones, and USB rocket sticks all in need of service. Andrew recognized a Lebanese man who owned a restaurant he liked. The man refused to believe the employee had indeed fixed whatever wasn’t working with his mobile.
I’m not getting all my SMS messages.
You will now, Sir.
Every time I come here you tell me this.
Sir, there was a problem with the account. It is fixed now, Inshallah.
Andrew loved the Inshallas. They were everywhere. See you soon? Inshallah. Will the rain stop? Inshallah. Did you complete the assignment properly? Inshallah.
The three of them parked themselves in a corner next to a young couple with a baby. They were engrossed in conversation. Andrew noticed they dressed, including the baby, in Western clothing. Each had an iPhone, which meant they had money. The baby had a bottle and some small toys that looked like they were purchased abroad. The man checked the time on his phone’s screen and sighed.
“Do you want to go for the Indian buffet tonight?” Alex asked.
“Hmm. Yes, that would be nice,” Liv answered. “Andrew? Did you fancy some curry?”
“Sure.”
“I can’t believe you never tried Indian food until you came to Gambia,” she continued. “What kind of an upbringing did your parents give you in America?”
The Order of Nature Page 16