A gay old time...
Anita has become involved with a human rights group that's a front for a gay rights association and they had a little party on Friday, so we decided to tag along. Unfortunately, we ended up with Louis and Moktar in tow, as they showed up at the house looking for Jon and couldn't be dissuaded from coming to the party. We didn't tell them it was for gay people -- we figured they would figure it out.
On the way to catch a cab, Kristy hauled off and whacked a guy, then called him a motherfucker, the second time in two days that she has called someone a motherfucker. (Swearing in Ghana just doesn't happen -- I think it has to do with the Bible thumping.) Apparently he grabbed her arm earlier in the night, then grabbed her again as we made our way down the street. I don’t know why these idiots do stuff like that to white women. Do they seriously think we’re going to turn and look at someone who has grabbed us violently and think, “Oh, there’s the man of my dreams. Thank you, fate!” I had a guy grab my ass the other day as I passed him while squeezing by a car. I stopped and said, “Hey!” And he just looked at me. I called him a jerk and kept walking. Seriously. Blonde hair does not equal easy.
Anita has built up quite a few connections in the gay community, a couple of her friends from her party – the great dancers, in fact – were from the gay community. Anyway, this was a combined birthday party-slash-anniversary party for Ghana’s only gay resource centre. It was surreal! Sodomy is still illegal in Ghana, as it is in most of the middle east and Africa, and men regularly get beaten or lynched if their family or friends think they’re sexually deviant. I couldn’t get over how flamboyant the gay guys were. The lesbians were a little harder to identify, although a couple of them hit on Nana Aba, who was really in demand.
In order to have this gay resource centre in a culture where being gay is a crime, Mac Darling, the founder, runs it as an “awareness” group and does theatre that is aimed at all human rights. He slips a little gay rights in there too, although it has a mixed reception. So the funny thing was that some people didn’t realize they were at a gay bash. There were a bunch of kids there, wearing Band-aids on their faces like Nelly, and three other obrunis. The men were just hilarious, but not exactly like gay men in Toronto, in the sense that they’re harmless. These guys were hyper-sexualized, coming over to lick your ear, grind you, etc. Kristy, the poor thing, was being grinded by this guy until she realized that he had an erection. Some other guy told her he had an 8-inch dick and wanted to see her vagina on his 8-inch dick. Very weird. By the time we left, two guys were making out by the gate – one of the guys later had to be carried off the dance floor, where he passed out – and I worried they were going to get busted by some of the locals who had gathered around.
It was one of the most hyper-sexualized environments I’ve been in a while. Even the 11-year-old boys were slinking by saying, “You’re sexy!” I was like, eesh. I’m practically old enough to be your mother.
Johnice, this woman that Molly and Kristy met outside Busy, came with us. She’s a 38-year-old lesbian from Liberia, who escaped 14 years ago and made it to Ghana after a harrowing seven-month trek through Cote D’Ivoire. I haven’t heard all of the stories, but the few I’ve heard are hard to stomach and sometimes hard to believe. Her last name is Tubman, which she claims makes her related to Liberia’s 18th president, the president, in fact, who was murdered and whose death triggered all of the country’s problems. As soon as she walked in the door, I got a bad vibe, which is still unexplained. I just felt in my gut that she shouldn’t be in the house, she shouldn’t know where we live.
Anyway, she took a real shine to Kristy. She told her on the night they met that she was attracted to her and Kristy put her off. Well, that night, she decided to stay over because she lives out at the camp and by the time they came in at 1a.m., it was far too late to consider getting a tro-tro. I was already in bed when they came in, I heard Kristy set up her bed, heard her wish her a goodnight, then Kristy burst in, wiping the back of her hand on her mouth. I was like, what?!? Apparently she stuck her tongue down her throat! Kristy could sense that it was coming, and had even planned a way to shut off the light and make it to the room while Johnice was on the other side of the room, but I guess Johnice had plans of her own. It made Kristy sick – not the actual act, although she said it was like a big sloppy man kiss – but the fact that this lonely, pathetic older woman would have to be rejected.
The next morning, Kristy hid out until Johnice left to make a phone call, then we went to Tema to pick up some snacks for the JHR party. I love hanging out on weekends with Nana Aba and the other roommates. It’s just so relaxed and fun, lots of jokes and laughs. We ended up going for a really greasy lunch, then flaking out for the afternoon and having a super-huge nap, before racing home to pick up a few more things for the party. Johnice called Kristy in the middle of the day and told her that she hadn’t slept very well that night, because she regretted not “going all the way.” Kristy quickly hung up.
On the way to catch a cab, Kristy hauled off and whacked a guy, then called him a motherfucker, the second time in two days that she has called someone a motherfucker. (Swearing in Ghana just doesn't happen -- I think it has to do with the Bible thumping.) Apparently he grabbed her arm earlier in the night, then grabbed her again as we made our way down the street. I don’t know why these idiots do stuff like that to white women. Do they seriously think we’re going to turn and look at someone who has grabbed us violently and think, “Oh, there’s the man of my dreams. Thank you, fate!” I had a guy grab my ass the other day as I passed him while squeezing by a car. I stopped and said, “Hey!” And he just looked at me. I called him a jerk and kept walking. Seriously. Blonde hair does not equal easy.
Anita has built up quite a few connections in the gay community, a couple of her friends from her party – the great dancers, in fact – were from the gay community. Anyway, this was a combined birthday party-slash-anniversary party for Ghana’s only gay resource centre. It was surreal! Sodomy is still illegal in Ghana, as it is in most of the middle east and Africa, and men regularly get beaten or lynched if their family or friends think they’re sexually deviant. I couldn’t get over how flamboyant the gay guys were. The lesbians were a little harder to identify, although a couple of them hit on Nana Aba, who was really in demand.
In order to have this gay resource centre in a culture where being gay is a crime, Mac Darling, the founder, runs it as an “awareness” group and does theatre that is aimed at all human rights. He slips a little gay rights in there too, although it has a mixed reception. So the funny thing was that some people didn’t realize they were at a gay bash. There were a bunch of kids there, wearing Band-aids on their faces like Nelly, and three other obrunis. The men were just hilarious, but not exactly like gay men in Toronto, in the sense that they’re harmless. These guys were hyper-sexualized, coming over to lick your ear, grind you, etc. Kristy, the poor thing, was being grinded by this guy until she realized that he had an erection. Some other guy told her he had an 8-inch dick and wanted to see her vagina on his 8-inch dick. Very weird. By the time we left, two guys were making out by the gate – one of the guys later had to be carried off the dance floor, where he passed out – and I worried they were going to get busted by some of the locals who had gathered around.
It was one of the most hyper-sexualized environments I’ve been in a while. Even the 11-year-old boys were slinking by saying, “You’re sexy!” I was like, eesh. I’m practically old enough to be your mother.
Johnice, this woman that Molly and Kristy met outside Busy, came with us. She’s a 38-year-old lesbian from Liberia, who escaped 14 years ago and made it to Ghana after a harrowing seven-month trek through Cote D’Ivoire. I haven’t heard all of the stories, but the few I’ve heard are hard to stomach and sometimes hard to believe. Her last name is Tubman, which she claims makes her related to Liberia’s 18th president, the president, in fact, who was murdered and whose death triggered all of the country’s problems. As soon as she walked in the door, I got a bad vibe, which is still unexplained. I just felt in my gut that she shouldn’t be in the house, she shouldn’t know where we live.
Anyway, she took a real shine to Kristy. She told her on the night they met that she was attracted to her and Kristy put her off. Well, that night, she decided to stay over because she lives out at the camp and by the time they came in at 1a.m., it was far too late to consider getting a tro-tro. I was already in bed when they came in, I heard Kristy set up her bed, heard her wish her a goodnight, then Kristy burst in, wiping the back of her hand on her mouth. I was like, what?!? Apparently she stuck her tongue down her throat! Kristy could sense that it was coming, and had even planned a way to shut off the light and make it to the room while Johnice was on the other side of the room, but I guess Johnice had plans of her own. It made Kristy sick – not the actual act, although she said it was like a big sloppy man kiss – but the fact that this lonely, pathetic older woman would have to be rejected.
The next morning, Kristy hid out until Johnice left to make a phone call, then we went to Tema to pick up some snacks for the JHR party. I love hanging out on weekends with Nana Aba and the other roommates. It’s just so relaxed and fun, lots of jokes and laughs. We ended up going for a really greasy lunch, then flaking out for the afternoon and having a super-huge nap, before racing home to pick up a few more things for the party. Johnice called Kristy in the middle of the day and told her that she hadn’t slept very well that night, because she regretted not “going all the way.” Kristy quickly hung up.
posted by Palmer in Africa at 9:34 AM
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