It was then that this man remembered the shorts. A couple of months before, when Isatou was doing Alex and Andrew’s laundry, she found a pair of sport shorts that resembled a pair her nephew had. Alex’s and Andrew’s shorts were loose and baggy, and various shades of khaki; this was the first time Isatou saw these black ones. Gambian men rarely wore shorts, except for exercise or playing sports, and even then, the shorts they did wear fell high above the knee, like those that were popular in North America in the 1980s. When Isatou saw the shorter shorts in the laundry she pointed out to her nephew that Alex or Andrew was finally starting to dress like a Gambian. Now that the nephew saw a Gambian sneak out of Andrew’s compound early in the morning for the second week in a row, he wondered if the shorts belonged to this man.
On the following Saturday, Abdou continued, “he went out from the house early and walked along the outside wall of your house, to see if he could hear any commotion, maybe a robber who kept returning to steal things, but he couldn’t hear anything. And then he positioned himself in the dark before five in the morning to see if Thomas would appear again, which he did. That day he told his aunt, your maid, what he thought was going on. He said he wanted to go to the police, but Isatou was reluctant. She worried about betraying you because she didn’t believe it. He convinced her to go through your clothes. They found a number of items they didn’t think belonged to you.”
Andrew was irate and Thomas had to extend his arm out, as if to stop him from jumping up.
“After they found more of Thomas’s clothes, the nephew wanted to go to the police right away, but Isatou still hesitated. Instead, she asked him to speak to the imam when he went for prayers to the mosque for advice. He did. This imam has gotten involved in some organization, Pure Gambia it’s called. He spoke to the director, and they went to the police, who questioned Isatou and her nephew, who confirmed everything. That was two days before you were arrested. For the next two days, the police sat across the street from your house keeping watch. They watched Thomas leave early Saturday morning and come back alone later at night. Then they watched you both leave and return separately on Sunday before making the arrest. Just before they arrested you they went to your hotel, Thomas. They asked your boss if he recognized Andrew. When he said he came every week to sit at the bar with Thomas, they became convinced of everything.”
Neither Andrew nor Thomas spoke. As calm as he tried to be on the outside, inside, Andrew was fuming. He wanted to lash out, at Isatou, her nephew, Pure Gambia, and, at himself. He asked himself how he could be so stupid, forgetting how meticulous they’d been to stay discreet. None of that mattered. What the fuck was I thinking?
He looked over at Thomas, who was shaking his head. It was Andrew who convinced him to leave some underwear and shirts in a drawer.
She doesn’t go in drawers or cupboards. She takes the laundry off the floor and leaves it on my bed when it’s done.
“They also went to your principal,” Abdou said, flipping through his notes, “Mr. Jalloh.”
The mention of Mr. Jalloh stung Andrew. The realization Mr. Jalloh knew about this made Andrew ashamed. He liked Mr. Jalloh. He wished they’d have left him out of it.
“He was apparently very surprised and defended your character, and your abilities as a teacher. He said he had seen no evidence you were a practicing homosexual.”
Practicing homosexual. Jalloh always had a way with words.
“Now that you finally know how you both arrived here, you can begin to think of people who might be able to explain your story differently,” Abdou suggested. He told them that as he continued to learn more about the government’s case, he would keep returning with more questions and to talk about different strategies. He expected to obtain a copy of Andrew’s journal, which he confirmed the police found, in the next day or so. That would certainly raise additional questions. In the meantime, he asked them, could they think of a list of people who could attest to how they spent their time together? “People who can say you behaved like friends.”
“There aren’t many,” Andrew said. “We were always alone, or with Liv and Alex, and Alex is gone. Otherwise it was just the soccer games on Sundays, but no one there knew anything.”
“I will want to talk to them,” Abdou said. Andrew provided the names of people who played.
“I spoke to your parents,” Abdou said, turning to Andrew and changing the subject. “They got my contact from Maya and called me from their hotel in Dakar.”
“How are they?” Andrew asked eagerly. He couldn’t believe his family was in Africa and would’ve given anything to see them there. He was proud of them for so many reasons and wanted to speak to them, especially if he couldn’t see them.
“They are fine. They are concerned about you obviously. They are trying to arrange a phone call with you, and I think it will be granted shortly.”
Andrew’s face lit up and he looked over at Thomas to share his excitement. The disconnect of emotions between them only heightened their differences. Listening to Abdou talk about all the efforts Andrew’s family was making on his behalf made him feel less abandoned. But until that moment he’d been ignorant to how that contrasted with the silence from Thomas’s family and he tempered his expression accordingly.
“They have generously offered to pay my fees for the case. We spoke in detail about the case. They asked numerous questions and I explained exactly what the procedures are and what we can all expect. I promised to remain in regular contact with them.”
“Thank you,” Andrew said. He had many more questions he wanted to ask about them but restrained himself. He didn’t want to upset Thomas when, all of a sudden, he felt a hand on his thigh under the table. He turned his face to Thomas, who smiled at him. It was his way of saying he was happy for him, not to feel guilty. Maybe it was the message his hand helped convey, but Andrew was struck by the amount of anxiety that could be alleviated by the touch of a hand. It made him wish they could be alone. As the weeks and interview sessions wore on they found themselves touching each other this way often. It was a way to reassure each other, but more importantly, it was a way to renew the fading connection and intimacy between them.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Abdou said, “I have some work I need to attend to.”
“Of course,” Thomas said.
Abdou was at his desk flipping through a copy of Andrew’s journal when his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number or the voice of the woman with a British accent on the other end.
“Ah, yes, Liv.” Her name was at the top of the list Thomas and Andrew gave him. “Thank you for reaching out to me,” he said. “I was going to call you shortly. I’m sure you can imagine that you occupy an important place in this case.”
“Yes,” she said. That was the problem. Liv told Abdou she’d just been visited by the prosecution. The court had issued a subpoena to compel her attendance at trial as a witness. They told her they wanted her to testify about all the instances they presumed she observed Thomas and Andrew in the house. They wanted her to confirm she’d seen them go off into the bedroom and close the door.
“Abdou?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“I saw them a lot, on many occasions,” she explained with concern.
He was thinking about how detrimental her testimony would be.
“You have to help me,” she pleaded. “There must be a way for me to get out of this.” The prospect of providing incriminating evidence mortified her. “I tried to tell them I was sick. I don’t know, I made it up on the spot. I said I hadn’t been feeling well lately and would have to see how I felt at the trial. They knew I was lying and said the subpoena meant I had to testify.”
“They’re correct,” he said. “I’m afraid you are required to go. We can work on how you say things, so it will be less harmful towards them.”
“But it still won’t be good?” she queried.
“No,” he answered. “No, I don’t think it can be good.”
Torm
ented by the prospect of playing a role in their conviction, she asked Abdou what would happen if she left the country during the trial.
“I can’t give you advice on that,” he said. “I can’t knowingly help you defy a court order. And besides, he added, because you’re a foreigner, I’m sure they’ve attached a note to your immigration file. It will show up as soon as your passport is scanned at the airport. So even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to fly out of the country. And if you did somehow manage to get out, you certainly wouldn’t be allowed back in.”
“Okay,” she replied, already scheming. He’d given her her answer. “Thank you.”
“Let’s find a time when you can come to the office and we can talk about everything.”
“Sure,” she said. “Of course.”
Liv hung up the phone and went for a walk to think clearly before calling Alex to talk things over with him.
Do it, he said. You have to.
The next morning before dawn, Liv slipped into the car of a driver she knew and trusted well. She carried her shoulder bag and a large backpacker’s knapsack. She hadn’t said where they were going and told him to first drive to the U.S. Embassy on Kairaba Avenue, where she quickly handed a sealed envelope to the guard in the guardhouse. On its front was written:
Attention Ms. Maya Mitchell
United States Embassy
Kairaba Avenue
Banjul, The Gambia
PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL
She got back into the car and asked to be dropped off at the Banjul ferry terminal.
“You’re going to Senegal?”
“Yes, only for a few days.”
She arrived early, ensuring a place on the first ferry of the day. Standing alone among the masses waiting to cross, Liv kept her gaze fixed on the horizon as the rising sun calmly brought the northern riverbank into focus. Behind her, a man was speaking loudly on his phone and she resented him for disturbing an otherwise tranquil tableau. With the crowd growing, she braced herself for the inevitable crush of people looking to board. Stepping onto the ferry’s rusted floor, a man pushed by her violently, knocking her knapsack from behind and sending her grabbing for the shoulders of an older woman in front of her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Finding a corner, Liv squished herself aboard the overloaded and overworked ferry that shuttled people, cars, and goods north and south across the River Gambia. She leaned over the railing to escape the strong smell of petrol. The rumble of the engine rose, growing so loud it reverberated through the whole ferry. After a jolt forward they started the slow crossing, leaving a thick trail of black smoke rising up behind them. With the sounds of water splattering out from the ship’s hull, Liv’s mind turned to Thomas and Andrew.
Once on the other side of the river, she found a seat in a communal van that transported her to the country’s northern land border crossing with Senegal.
There were no computers at this border. Instead, all records of comings and goings were kept, by both sides, in large ledger books. No official would scan Liv’s passport. While crossing, the only question asked of her was from a guard on the Senegalese side.
“How long are you staying for?”
“About one week or so. I’m visiting friends.”
And just like that, without telling anyone in the country, Liv was gone.
As Liv was stepping into Senegal, Maya was arriving at the embassy and found the envelope waiting for her.
Maya,
Please tell Andrew I couldn’t stand the thought of doing something that might hurt them. Tell him we love him and that we better see him soon. Thank you.
-Liv
26
“Your friend, Liv, she’s gone,” Abdou said on his next visit. “She fled the country two days ago.”
Thomas and Andrew’s faces looked confused. They weren’t privy to each development associated with the trial. They hadn’t known about her subpoena, or that she was being called as a witness.
“The prosecution intended to use her as a witness,” Abdou explained. “They had the court issue a subpoena to compel her attendance at the trial even if she didn’t want to. She worried her testimony would be harmful to you. Because of the subpoena, this was likely the only way for her not to testify.”
“Did you help her get away?” Andrew asked.
“No, no,” Abdou clarified. “I can’t help with something like that. In fact, I told her she had to comply. Then two days ago I got a phone call from Maya. Liv left her a note but didn’t say how she left or where she was going. She probably crossed by land into Senegal, undetected. They’ll try to blame me or Maya for it, but our hands are clean.”
Andrew was smiling, grateful for her friendship and her courage.
“Believe me,” Abdou said, “it’s better this way. From reading the journal I saw she was around for a lot. We won’t miss her testimony.”
“You got my journal?” Andrew asked.
“A copy, yes,” he said, with a troubled look.
“How is it?” Thomas asked.
“It is not helpful, but not as harmful as I feared. There is only one reference to intimate relations and that is after you kissed the first time. But there is no other mention of sexual conduct in violation of the law, and I don’t believe a kiss alone can be an unnatural offense, more intimate sexual activity would be needed. There are discussions about emotions we’d probably prefer weren’t mentioned, but again, those are just feelings.”
“But won’t they say it’s proof of a relationship?” Thomas asked.
“Yes,” Abdou answered. “That’s exactly what they will say. Still,” Abdou contended, “in the absence of proof, it will be a greater leap for the court to come down with a guilty verdict. They can say you broke society’s moral code, but that is not the same as breaking the criminal code.”
Thomas looked back at him, unconvinced impressive wordplay would be enough to save them.
“This is why it’s important,” he continued, “for me to speak with as many people as possible who can attest to the fact that when they saw you together, you were not being intimate or behaving as expected for a romantic couple.”
Related to this point, he told them, was an observation he wanted clarification on. “From your descriptions, Andrew, I get the impression that most of the time you and Thomas have been together was at night. Is this correct?”
“Yes,” Andrew answered.
Abdou explained that finding examples of interactions in daylight would build a credible narrative for a friendship that took place in public. That would make it more difficult for the judge to convict them in the absence of concrete evidence of them breaking the law. “All these tales in the nighttime reinforce the idea you had something to hide.”
“But we told you, besides playing soccer, it was always at night,” Andrew said, looking concerned. They did have something to hide. “And even at night,” he added, “we had to be careful.”
The first Sunday evening that Andrew invited Thomas over was a nerve-racking experience. As soon as Andrew extended the invitation he grew restless and questioned if he had made an impulsive mistake. He rushed home on his bicycle breaking out into a sweat. As Andrew barged through the front door into the living room, Alex and Liv immediately sensed something was up.
“I invited Thomas over,” he told them, expecting disapproving reactions from both.
“Great,” Alex shrugged.
Even Liv didn’t mind. “Did you want to watch a movie with us?”
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Andrew asked. “It’s not a risk?”
“Why would it be risky?” Alex replied. “Who’s coming to supervise us?”
Their reactions were reassuring, but for the entire evening, Andrew’s nerves were obvious. He went around the house making sure all the blinds were fully drawn. When it suddenly occurred to him that their shadows and silhouettes might still be seen, he as
ked about turning off the lights.
“Do you think you’re being a little paranoid?” Alex asked him.
“I don’t know.”
Whether he was paranoid or not, each time Thomas came over, Andrew went through the same preparatory routine. If they were alone at night, he’d leave off almost all the lights inside, sometimes keeping on the kitchen light so they weren’t in complete darkness.
“It was a relationship in darkness,” Thomas explained. When they walked up along the beach at night they always separated when walking past the restaurants and hotels with patios. One of them would walk up ahead, the other followed a minute or two later. They would repeat this eleven times on every walk from the hotel until they reached their spot near Bakau.
Once, early on, they were walking past one of the more popular restaurants and Thomas went past first. Andrew followed but as the patio lighting illuminated his face he heard his name called out. He looked over and saw a table of people he knew. They waved at him and his body instinctively headed in their direction as he peered out into the darkness for Thomas. Andrew had trouble convincing them he had somewhere to be, and the conversation lingered as he refused to sit down. He began wondering if Thomas would still be waiting for him. When he finally got away he walked hurriedly into the darkness only to discover Thomas wasn’t in sight. He scanned the dark horizon more carefully and saw him in the distance, sitting alone on the sand at the water’s edge, letting his feet get wet. “Sorry,” he said to him when he arrived. “I saw people I knew.”
“It’s okay,” Thomas said, before getting up to continue walking.
Eventually, even they grew tired of the darkness. Since the time they made their fish by the fire, they continued to build small fires on the beach most Fridays and Sundays. They were never big, but they did the trick. Instead of two people meeting for a conversation, it felt more like a date. Gathering small amounts of wood and building the fire gave them an opportunity to do something together. One Sunday Andrew brought marshmallows to roast after noticing them unexpectedly in one of the higher-end grocery shops.
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