The Order of Nature

by Josh Scheinert

  “Your Honour.” His voice rumbled, but he spoke in a measured tone, confidently and without looking at his notes. “We in The Gambia do not like homosexuals. We do not agree with homosexuality. Its ways are not our ways. Its values are not our values. We do not understand why anyone would choose such a path when there are so many indicators – religious, scientific, medical, and sociological – as to its harmful effects on the individual and on society. And as such, our laws are structured in a way to protect us from the harm we perceive that results from the homosexual, from the sodomite.

  “But we are also a nation of laws. And our laws affirm all men are presumed innocent until proven guilty. That all men must be given the benefit of the doubt. We cannot compromise on those ideals. Not even in the most trying of circumstances.”

  Only when someone in the gallery coughed did Abdou realize how quiet the court was. His opening caught everyone off guard and the silent anticipation was as much curiosity for his words as it was curiosity towards him – who was this person willing to defend Thomas and Andrew?

  “Regardless of what you think of Mr. Sow and Mr. Turner, if they are in fact homosexuals or not, you can judge them however you want according to your moral and religious codes. But here, here in the court, we can only judge them according to the law. And the law does not operate on a he-said-she-said basis. It does not convict people for heinous crimes because someone suspects how two people look at each other, what one person writes on a sheet of paper, or has in his bathroom. This is not how we judge our brothers and sisters in The Gambia.”

  He paused and turned to Thomas and Andrew before delivering his final challenge. The two of them wore grateful looks on their faces – they were the most surprised people in the court. Having spent hours with their lawyer, and having been told he intended to keep to black and white arguments about a lack of evidence, they did not expect this impassioned plea from him to suspend prejudice and follow reason.

  Their faces each conveyed the same message to him. You are making us proud. Thank you.

  “It is time for this court to break away from the world of passion and emotion. We do not condemn men simply because we disapprove of who they are, or who they might be. And that, Your Honour, is all we have seen so far in this case. We have heard it from people’s words, seen it in their faces. They do not like these two men. But on its own, this is insufficient to condemn them. We will continue the trend started by the prosecution and bring forward witnesses who can attest that while Mr. Sow and Mr. Turner may have been seen together on several occasions, no one has ever seen them engage in behavior violating any criminal provision. This in and of itself must leave this court with at least a reasonable doubt as to their guilt and conclude they are in fact, not guilty,” he declared emphatically.

  “And now, if it may please the court, the defense calls its first witness.”

  It was a brilliant performance. One even Abdou was surprised by. He wanted to believe it would have an impact on the case, that at least it might be enough to let Justice Touray reconsider.

  The remainder of the day, however, had less of an impact. By this point in the trial Andrew’s state was growing more fragile. He didn’t react well to the news that Mr. Jalloh had backed out. Mr. Jalloh agreeing to testify on his behalf had been one of the few instances of good news. He knew Mr. Jalloh disapproved of homosexuality, so he shouldn’t have been that surprised. But Abdou had convinced Mr. Jalloh to put those feelings aside and focus on Andrew as a person, the person he respected and liked working with. He wasn’t going to have to say anything that could be construed as approving of homosexuality.

  “He was extremely apologetic,” Abdou said, trying to appear confident. “I don’t think it had anything to do with his view of you. He was scared, that’s all.”

  Andrew scanned the courtroom to try and find Mr. Jalloh. He searched the crowd of spectators for one of those gregarious expressions Mr. Jalloh’s face made each time he got excited about something. But the only faces he saw displayed the same hostile and disparaging expressions he’d been seeing for days. He tried to listen for his big bellowing laugh that could project itself over any amount of noise. But he heard only murmurs. Mr. Jalloh wasn’t there.

  Without Mr. Jalloh, the witness testimony was predictable but lackluster. True to form, both of the expat witnesses confirmed they had seen Thomas and Andrew together but added that the two of them gave no indication they were ever more than friends. They spoke matter-of-factly, if slightly apprehensively. Trying to hide the accent of empire, each of them said they expressed profound disbelief upon hearing the allegations that Thomas and Andrew were in a relationship.

  While this was all Abdou could have asked for, Mr. Touray used it as further evidence of the relationship, arguing that the witnesses’ perceptions of Thomas and Andrew were clearly clouded by their Western backgrounds. Through his questioning, he forced both to admit what Abdou was afraid they might admit, that they did not disapprove of homosexuality, confirming the suspicions of everyone in the courtroom and severely undermining their credibility.

  “Can you say with absolute, one-hundred percent confidence, that your values and morality do not impact how you see the world, how you observe your surroundings?”

  Neither could. I think I’m an objective person, but no, I can’t say so, at least with one-hundred percent certainty.

  “So all we know for sure is you frequently saw them together,” Mr. Touray confirmed.

  “And one last question,” he said to each of them. “To your knowledge, did Andrew ever have a girlfriend in The Gambia?”

  “No,” they each answered, looking apologetically at Andrew.

  By the time the second witness sat down and the day’s proceedings had drawn to a close, Abdou looked somber and subdued as he bid his clients goodnight. He did what he could.

  Each day of the trial he called Andrew’s parents in Dakar as he rode back to his office. He always encouraged them to be hopeful, to know that the judge was fair, and that he would keep pressing forward with his case and the strategy he’d briefed them on. After today, Andrew’s parents would want to know all the details, especially Mr. Jalloh’s defense of Andrew’s character. But Abdou, worn and angry – at everyone and at himself – didn’t want to make the phone call. He wanted nothing more than to go back to how things were before he took this case. It was a feeling that made him feel even more dispirited.

  Leaving the building and walking through a throng of reporters for what he hoped would be his second last time, Abdou spotted Suleiman standing at the edge of the road in front of the courthouse.

  “Mr. Bojang, a question please,” Suleiman said in a tone to attract his friend’s attention and suggest it wasn’t a standard journalist’s request.

  Abdou stopped for a second so his friend could see his face before he turned away, walking in the opposite direction as a few of the remaining spectators hurled insults at him.

  31

  Andrew wasn’t sure if he was already awake or if it was the footsteps that awoke him. He heard them from a distance. They were distinct, popping up from the concrete and sending out a more pronounced echo than the familiar sounds of the guards’ boots. They continued advancing up the hallway towards the doorway of his empty cell block. His nerves ratcheted up several notches and his heart started to beat so loudly he thought he could hear it outside his body. His mind flashed back to taunting warnings from the guards. One day, when you least expect it, someone will come to teach you a lesson.

  He didn’t know what time it was, but it seemed too early for court. The trial had ended Friday afternoon and Abdou told Thomas and Andrew to expect the verdict some time on the weekend.

  “Justice Touray will want to make it clear he is deliberating seriously,” Abdou told them. “I’m sure the verdict won’t be rendered immediately. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after.”

  Since being returned to his cell, Andrew fell in and out of a fitful sleep for what felt like days, constantl
y waking but never feeling rested. There was nothing he could do but wait in the darkness. Alone, he’d never known silence to be so cruel.

  Now, it was the breaking of that silence that made him fearful.

  The door to his hallway unlocked and swung open. Several figures appeared, walking briskly. Standing and looking out to his left, he made out the silhouette of three guards in front, all shining flashlights into the darkness. Andrew frightfully jumped backward, placing himself as far from the door of his cell as possible, nervously awaiting the footsteps, which grew louder and louder. He hoped they would somehow keep walking past his cell.

  They didn’t.

  Squinting and trying to block out one of the shining flashlights with his hands, barely able to make out the faces in front of him, he saw a woman standing at the head of the pack. He was too stunned and alarmed to think clearly and it took him several seconds to recognize Maya in the darkness. It took him several more seconds to realize he wasn’t dreaming.

  “Get the light out of his face,” she ordered before taking a step closer towards him. “We have to go, Andrew,” she said before motioning to a guard, who proceeded to open the door to Andrew’s cell. She took clothes from the hands of another guard, his clothes, and handed them to him. “Here, change into these.”

  Confused, he barely moved.

  “Can you give him some privacy, please,” she said, turning to the guards, who backed away slightly. “Andrew,” she spoke softly and kindly, “we reached an agreement late last night for your release. There’s a flight to Dakar leaving shortly. You have a ticket on it, and then an onward ticket with your parents back home.”

  He stood for a moment in silence, thinking about what Maya had just said. “How?” he looked at her, wide-eyed and transfixed.

  “You don’t have to concern yourself with that right now. Suffice it to say we were able to leverage the existence of foreign assets held by the government and government personnel. The official agreement is confidential, so I can’t give you any more information. What matters is that it’s done. There’s a release form waiting for you downstairs with your passport. It’s time to get you home.”

  Home. Away from here, from this.

  It was a scene that had played out in his head countless times. His rescue. How he might be plucked away from this nightmare. Over time though, he’d become more deflated and pessimistic about it ever materializing. By the end of the trial he figured he was trapped and started, however reluctantly, to accept that. Now she was telling him he was free.

  But only he.

  “What about Thomas?” he asked Maya, still holding his clothes, knowing but afraid of the answer.

  “Andrew,” she said sympathetically. He knew.

  “What’s going to happen to him?”

  She paused, debating how forthright she wanted to be. “He’ll probably be found guilty, like you would have been, and then sentenced.”

  He appreciated her candor, anything less and he would’ve known she wasn’t being truthful. Still, getting the answer he expected didn’t make it any easier to digest. Just a few days earlier Andrew was reeling at the feeling of being abandoned by Mr. Jalloh. The whole trial had been an illustration of a society turning its back on Thomas. Now Andrew was being asked to be that person and walk away.

  “I’m just supposed to leave? Like that?” he asked her, his face starting to break.

  “Leaving doesn’t mean you have to abandon him. There’s a lot you can do on his behalf from back home.” She was right, he thought. Consolation, maybe.

  She stepped aside so Andrew could see that Abdou was with her before continuing. “We’ve arranged for you to be able to say goodbye to him.”

  Andrew looked at Abdou, who had difficulty making eye contact with him, before turning back to Maya. He didn’t have the energy to thank him and express his gratitude, which was profound. His mind was too worn out to think about so many things all at once.

  “And that’s it? I say goodbye and leave? Walk away and out the door and he stays inside?”

  “I know how hard this might be.”

  “No,” he stopped her, angrily. “You don’t.”

  She apologized as his tears started to flow and he brushed them away, rubbing the dirt from his hands off onto his cheeks. She turned around as he changed to give him privacy, leaving the sounds of his sniffling to fill the hallway.

  These pants are too big.

  His tears were gone when he turned around to face her, not knowing what to do with his prison clothes.

  “You can leave them in the cell. The guards will take care of them,” she told him.

  He dropped the clothes and watched them fall before turning his face back to hers. “You said you made the deal last night,” he said to her with a puzzled expression. “What time is it now?”

  “It’s five-thirty in the morning,” she answered, catching onto his question. “The government would only allow you to leave now as the agreement says you must go straight from here to the airport and onto the plane. We weren’t allowed to bring you to the embassy or even to take you to your house to collect your things, which we’ll arrange to have sent to you.”

  “Okay,” he murmured. Even in his dreams he knew it would be hard to accept his freedom and leave Thomas behind. But in his dreams he was still able to balance his emotions, to accept this was truly the only way. At some level he could also rejoice, draw some comfort and relief. In reality, though, there was none of that. Andrew was feeling so terrible, so sick to his stomach, that he didn’t think he even deserved any of that. He walked out from his cell heavily and hesitantly, as if his body couldn’t make up its mind. What would he tell Thomas? I’m getting out and you have to stay. But don’t worry, I’ll start a petition... It sounded pathetic.

  Thomas was waiting in the interview room. They had left him there in the dark without telling him why. When the guard turned on a light and opened the door, Andrew stood alone in the entranceway. He was wearing his own clothes. Thomas processed everything much quicker than Andrew had and immediately figured out what was happening.

  “You’re going home,” he said with a big, loving smile. It was a genuine smile, one that in those circumstances only love could make possible.

  Andrew’s tears burst out from him and without any regard for the guards standing behind him, he threw himself into Thomas’s arms and cried apologetically into his shoulder. It’s okay, it’s okay, Thomas kept saying to him, holding him for what he knew would be the last time. When Andrew regained some of his composure he lifted his head and faced Thomas.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  “You’re keeping the promise you made. Don’t be sorry. This is what I wanted.”

  Andrew smiled, before swallowing down some of his lingering emotions. He found Thomas’s answer hard to believe.

  One of the guards made a sound as if to hurry them up and they could hear Abdou demand they be given a few more minutes.

  They were looking at each other in the silence, hoping it might suspend the time.

  “Do you remember the night we danced? On the beach when we were walking, and heard that music playing?” Thomas asked quietly.

  Andrew’s face brightened and he nodded.

  “It’s one of my favorite memories. We were walking together and I stopped. You took a few steps ahead and then saw me standing there. When you figured out what I wanted, you had this amazingly tender look on your face that I can still picture. We’d never danced before. It wasn’t big or grand, but it was intimate, it was ours. I think about it a lot and realize no matter where I am or what is happening, no one can take that away from me. So at night when I don’t sleep, sometimes I close my eyes and I hear the music once more.” As he finished the sentence, Thomas closed his eyes in front of Andrew and returned to his memory. His face projected satisfaction and peace of mind in a way it hadn’t since their night of dancing in Freetown. For a moment, Thomas’s upper body began to sway, slowly and rhythmically. “I
can hear it still,” he said, swaying softly with his eyes closed. Andrew had to listen closely but he could hear Thomas faintly humming the song’s slow melody, seemingly having transposed himself out of the cruel prison interview room and back onto the beach, letting himself be soothed by its light breeze still blowing and the soft music still playing, seeing himself there, seeing both of them there, dancing.

  Andrew looked down at his hand as he felt Thomas reach out and squeeze it. When he looked back up, Thomas was looking back at him with moist eyes.

  “I’m going to be okay,” he told him. They both knew it wasn’t true, a lie they would let slip past. And then, before he was overtaken by the heartbreak and fear quickly consuming his insides, Thomas whispered to Andrew that he loved him. Andrew whispered it back, barely audible, struggling to move his lips. They squeezed each other’s hands as tightly as they could.

  “I’m going to get you out,” Andrew told him. It was another lie they both thought, but one they wanted to desperately believe.

  “Andrew?” Maya said nervously. “We have to go.”

  It was a straight drive down the Banjul-Serrekunda Highway to the airport. Andrew sat in the back of a U.S. Embassy jeep, with Maya and the driver in the front. Abdou was also in the back, behind the driver. Andrew didn’t speak at all during the ride and was too exhausted to think about what was happening. It had all been so quick. With his head pressed up against the window, he was in a daze as they drove past places he saw only in a blur. The route from the prison to the airport didn’t go through the area he lived in and where he spent most of his time, making much of what they passed unfamiliar. When he realized this, that he wouldn’t have the chance to give everything one final look, he wasn’t bothered – he couldn’t think of any goodbye, with people or places, that he cared to have. He just wanted to go, and disappear. With the daylight bringing his surroundings into clearer focus, he grew anxious to be rid of it all.