Having Faith

As I bent over to pick up a shoe that had slipped under the chair I was sitting on, I felt someone gently caress my hair. I picked the shoe and looked up. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her skin looked so clean and bright, her eyes were deep and happy, and when she smiled, I felt my already melting heart melt even more. But I could not find the words. I just stood there. Staring. Then I finally broke a smile. She smiled back and walked away. I was still standing there looking at her when my shoe fell out of my hand, again. I looked at it, sighed and picked it up. 

I was fifteen years old. My family and I had just moved to Abuja, and I had just been transferred to El-Amin International School, Minna, from an all-girl school in the south of Nigeria, a school which I hated very much. Whilst I was there I often felt unduly targeted by my “seniors”, who often referred to me as “fine boy” and accused me of intentionally seducing them with my eyes. Completely ridiculous. I was very young, and I never had any romantic feelings towards anyone - male or female. I had never even given it a thought. Yes, in my mind, I loved boys, but save for a forgettable kiss, I had never had anything I could describe as romantic happen between a boy and me. However, here I was - my dreamy eyes making my “seniors” in that school very uncomfortable. 

Before I started school at El-Amin, my mum wanted me to school at a catholic all girls’ school. The first time I visited the school, I hated it. I did not like the thought of leaving one all-girl school for another. I wanted a mixed school. I wanted to see boys, and be in their presence. So when my mother insisted I write the entrance exam for this catholic school, I reluctantly followed her to the exam hall, got registered and took my seat while she waited in the waiting area. Within ten minutes of collecting the question paper, I raised my hand to signify that I was done. The invigilator walked over, looked at me in disbelief, collected my answer sheet, and I walked out of the room to meet my mother, who too was amazed at how quickly I finished. 

A few days later, the results came out. I failed woefully. Of course. It was intentional. I knew that if I passed and was offered admission, I would end up there. My failure was so epic that the school could not even admit me on probation. It was an outright rejection. I smiled inside. The following week, I was scheduled to write the entrance exam into El-Amin. The minute I walked into the school, I fell in love. I knew that was where I wanted to go. I wrote the exam and passed with flying colours and was eventually offered admission and started SS 1 (form Four) there the following September.

Faith was staying with my neighbours that evening. I was there on my usual Friday evening visit, and I was just about to go home when my shoe slipped off my feet and I tried to pick it up. When she walked away, she went upstairs to the room. After picking up my shoe and wearing it, I followed her. It was automatic. I did not even think about it. I never experienced anything like this. No one had ever made me so weak and I just wanted to know more about her. She was charming, warm and funny. I enjoyed every second with her. But Faith lived in Lagos. She was only in Abuja for school and every time she needed to transit on her way to Lagos, she would stay at my neighbours’. 

One day, I went to visit her at my neighbours’. We talked about the silliest things, laughed, shared a meal, danced to music, and then she asked if she could kiss me. “NOOOOOOO!!!!”, I responded, as though someone had just asked me if the Pope was Presbyterian. I could see the embarrassment in her eyes, but I could not have helped the way that answer burst out of my mouth. I was only about fifteen. I had never kissed a girl before and I did not know whether I liked it or not. I knew I really liked her but I did not think I was in love with her. The thought of kissing any girl never crossed my mind at all. I had kissed a boy before and I honestly could not remember what that felt like.

We continued our ‘romance’ with daily walks, stealing glances, temporarily holding hands, lovely notes, and dedicating songs to each other. When I went back to school, I bought a folder with empty sheets of paper. During night prep, I wrote to Faith. While my classmates were studying, I was writing - telling her everything that happened that day, and how much I missed her. I would write consistently for two weeks, then courier them to her. She did the same thing. Every two weeks, we’d receive handwritten letters from each other. Those letters gladdened my heart. I looked forward to reading them more than I looked forward to hearing my name called to receive the prize for best student in Government studies.

Alas! I had fallen in love and I did not even know it. 

When I returned from school, Faith had moved to Abuja. I was elated! Her house became my other home. I was there every single day. By this time, there had been a classmate, Ejike, whom I believed I was heavily crushing on. I told her about him and how much I wanted to kiss him. Faith and I had that sort of relationship where we could talk about anything. We however never defined what exactly this relationship was. One day, as we walked up the stairs in her house, she turned around and kissed me. I did not resist. I just stood there helplessly. Before then I had already contemplated what it would be like to kiss her. When she talked, I’d get lost in thought staring at her lips and wondering what they would taste like - feel like. When our lips finally met, it was magical! Unlike the boy I kissed, I still remember very clearly what this one felt like. It literally took my breath away, my heart skipped beats, I was weakened at the knees. 

We still had not defined our relationship but we continued to kiss very often. The relationship progressed and got more intimate. Through all of this, I never for once considered myself lesbian. All I knew at the point was that I really loved this girl, and she loved me and we wanted to spend every passing moment together. That was all we cared about. I graduated from El-Amin at sixteen, and started pursuing admission in a school in the U.S. 

My visa interview was in Lagos. I wanted Faith to come with me for moral support, as I had never been to a visa interview before and did not know what to expect. I got the visa and was in Lagos preparing to leave for America. I missed Faith so much, I craved her. We called each other every day, sent notes, text messages, etc. It was bittersweet for us. She was happy for me that I was going to America to school and knew that was a move that would ensure I made a success of my life. But to me, it also meant we would be separated. I struggled hard for this admission, and when it came and reality dawned on me, I suddenly didn't feel so good about leaving. But I left. 

I remember that night. Faith sent four passport photographs of herself through a relative. She looked so beautiful. I can never forget it. I guarded those pictures with my life. I put one in every place I visited often - the bathroom, my bedside, my study table, and my wallet. I looked at them everyday. We talked as often as we could. Even though it was very expensive to call each other, we tried. We’d talk for as long as we could, savoured every moment, shared every secret, enjoyed every kiss through the phone. Then one day, Faith told me she was getting married to a man. 

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Faith was the first girl I ever loved. We loved each other for eight years. When she got married, I knew it was the beginning of the end. The symbolic thing about this relationship is, as deep and sweet as it was, it was one that led to so much suffering - for me and for Faith. Left to us, we would have gotten married, but we could not even tell ourselves that we were lesbians.