"That perverted homosexual spirit is a spirit of delusion and confusion and has deceived many men and women, and it has caused a strain on the body of Christ.”
I remember the first time l saw him at the cemetery.
I had been crying. I had not quite cried since leaving the hospital but when the flames of the incinerator swallowed Remi — in that beautiful coffin we had carefully selected -something gave in my chest. The unceremonious finality of cremation startled me. I ensured Remi got the sort of funeral she would approve of, but in all our many conversations l had never asked her preference. But then, I hadn’t expected her sudden death.
She was Buddhist, I suppose Buddhists automatically want cremation, but Remi liked the attention of those she loved. Would she not have preferred a burial so we can bring her flowers as she did her mother? White lilies, clean, neat, streamlined, as she liked things. Remi was a person who straddled contradictions effortlessly.
So l cried out of a sudden fear l had let my friend down. The deep dankness of grief would not hit until much later.
It was through those tears, on a cold November morning, that l saw Akin, he looked young but he looked old, he had a walking stick and dressed like he belonged in a 50’s swing musical; cravat, pocket square, hat and all.
He was a master of innuendoes and pointless trivia whose engineer’s mind solved and resolved tech problems.
Oh yes, my friend Akin is gay, has been all his life. He didn’t leave Nigeria because he was gay, he’s middle class, to be poor is the only real crime, he left because he wanted to become more than was on offer in 1990. He left a high paying job and a company he was part owner of to start over in London then he moved to Amsterdam. He hasn’t been home in 26 years but my meddlesome determination is that he must come home to visit his family.Akin turned 51 last week, he really should visit his aged mother and father in Nigeria, l know he’d like to but Nigeria feels like an unknown entity.
We were talking about this on Christmas Day when the news of George Michael’s death broke, suddenly he turned to me and said, Funmi l want to come out, and I want you to be the one to do this for me, I want people to know I’m gay. I have never consciously hidden it but l want to state it now and make it open.
I asked why, he said, its time, l asked if he was sure. He said yes.So l wrote this story.
For my friend Broda Akin, Uncle ilu oyinbo.Funmi's Medium page.
