From Chika...

Growing up, I thought playing football too manly for me. I did things girls did. I played and danced with them. That earned me the nickname “Adamma”, a feminine Ibo name. At that time, I did not really care because I had never witnessed any form of discrimination, nor had I been harassed. However, my parents did not like the fact that I did things differently from every other young boy of my age. Sometimes, I felt as if I were alone, and maybe one day I would cease to exist. Things continued like that until I enrolled into secondary school where very abusive words were thrown in my direction as people made jest of my very effeminate nature. 

As the verbal abuse continued, I was forced to drop out of school because some people found my behaviour very irritating. My parents withdrew me from school, since the principal could not do anything to stop the bullying. I got transferred to an all boys secondary school to see if things would be any different but nothing changed. Even though I made new friends, in SS2, I was brutally harassed by the Geography teacher. He made a move on me and when I refused, he raped me inside the school laboratory and I suffered many wounds. When I spoke out, no one believed me. He claimed I made a pass at him and flogged me in front of everyone until I bled.

After that happened, I was withdrawn from that school too. One Christmas, my uncle who lived in Lagos came home. My mother urged me to follow him back to Lagos so that I could learn how to trade in car parts at Ladipo Main Market, Mushin. I stayed with him for some months, but it was never easy since I was not treated in the same way I was in my parents’ house. However, I did not have a choice but to bear it all while waiting to see where it will lead to, especially since they said it was for my own good.

My uncle called me all sorts of names. At any single opportunity he got, he either slapped or kicked my ass in public, but I had to endure it and continued learning the trade, while still living with him. At the time, he was not married, so he took me along with him to church every Sunday at Abule-Egba area in Lagos. There, his Pastor told him that I was possessed by an evil spirit and that he had to take me back to my parents for cleansing and deliverance. I had no say in this decision, but since I’d been looking for a way to go and see my parents for a year and half, I agreed to go.

When we got to the East, he told my parents the reason he brought me back. I was taken to a spiritual church for deliverance from my ‘gayness’, but the so-called prophet raped me as well. I was taken from one Pentecostal church to the other, and suffered a lot humiliation, hunger and very serious pain. Then came the herbalist who said I was from one river in my village and advised my parents to take me there naked, tie me to a tree close to the river, and leave me there till sunset of the next day. I was still there by sunset, and that meant the river rejected me. After all these, I still had to follow my uncle back to Lagos.

When we got to Lagos, the Pastor in their Pentecostal church advised that I undergo three months of fasting and prayer. That was when I chose to end it and moved out of my uncle’s house. I had to run for my life before I died from trauma. At night, I slept at a canteen shop near Ladipo market when it closed. I woke up very early in the morning to take my bath in front of the shop before people resumed for business. Because I had to survive, I made little money by helping people carry their luggage to their destination. 

Then, I met someone who claimed he loved me, and then invited me to stay with him in his one room apartment. I lived with him for eight years. I was to find out later that he was bisexual and promiscuous. He then used me to get money and some valuable things he wanted for himself and his girlfriends. He beat me, and yelled at me in public saying he deserved to be with a woman and he would never fuck me.

I had to find my own accommodation. Last year, a knock on my door woke me up at midnight, and when I opened the door, three hefty men rushed into my apartment and beat me mercilessly. They raped and left me seriously bruised and in pains. 

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I’ve been fighting to be who I am all my life. Sometimes, when someone calls me, my heart skips because meeting people as friends scares me.  Many gay people here in Nigeria work as informants to get close and lure us into the Police net to face public assault and extortion. 

I think mostly in Nigeria and some other parts of Africa, Religion has always promoted hatred towards gay people, instead of unity and love. But there are so many Christians I know who are gay and love religion too. This is the main reason I pray that those that use the Bible to hurt others know that the key word is Love, not hate or discrimination.

My name is Chika and I’m from Anambra State (Eastern Part of Nigeria) and also the third in the family of three boys and three girls. 

Yes, I’m gay and not out to many people because of the environment where I live. Although my family know I’m gay and support me now, it was difficult for me when I had to reveal that to them. 

Yes, I’m still living and alive. I still believe that I was born for a reason and I will never fail to understand that what matters most for me is my life and knowing who I am and also respecting those who respect me and forgiving those who have hurt me. I believe life is a book and we can never finish reading it. Every page we turn has another mystery to show us.

In retrospect, I’d rather suffer the chance of someone accosting me for being gay than suffer the emotional violence I’d do to myself if I wasn’t honest about who I am.

Being gay was something I never chose. I would choose anything else if I had the chance to start over again.