Karis was many things. A respected youth leader in his church, a rising executive in a blue-chip logistics company, a doting father to his daughter and model husband.
He was affable and respectful to a fault. His soft tenor voice soothing, his words carefully chosen. He was very approachable too. Everyone sought him for his counsel, including the church leadership. Karis was the kind of person who had time for everyone and could spare his time to make small talk with a stranger. The ladies found him charming. He left all feeling great.
Karis' Achilles heel was a powerful crush on a fellow congregant in church. He knew this had the potential to destroy the world he'd build around his family, career and community. But it was an overpowering feeling that swept all logic aside. This was not an ordinary crush, it was accompanied by unbridled lust. He knew it was a matter of time before it consumed him, laying him bare for the world to see. Still he fought it the best he could busying himself with his career, family and community service and avoiding encounters with his crush. He prayed about it, his favorite verse being the part where Jesus was asking for a cup to be lifted off his shoulders. This offered temporary respite for him, sometimes for days even weeks but it would still come to hit him.
Severally he'd woken up from vivid dreams, all flushed up and terrified - having dreamt that his fellow church members had walked in on him in a compromising position with his crush. The stern faced church members had proceeded to pillory him, while stark naked. He'd looked into the crowd locked eyes his wife's sad eyes looking askance. His daughter's blank stare, not understanding why daddy was being roughed up and mocked so publicly.
He'd freed himself temporarily, trying to flee the humiliation. Surprised that no one bothered following him, just some maniacal laughter from the crowd - but fully aware that his escape was futile. They would corner him once again. It's at that point that he'd wake up terrified, to find his wife tapping him anxiously, worried about his howling in sleep.
Relieved, he would lie back in the dark contemplating what a mess this crush was going to bring into his life.
But the desire persisted. And grew exponentially.
He'd contemplated moving towns and had even hinted at his boss, a kind old man, who asked few questions. But he knew that the only way to get free from the shackles of his burning erotic desires was to eventually shoot his shot.
A couple of times he'd approached his crush, armed with a pick-up line, ready to bare it all but a huge lump would form in his throat turning him into a mumbling, incoherent fool. His crush would smile sympathetically, asking him if everything was ok. He'd nod like a little boy, hating himself for the nervous display.
You see, his object of affection was a young man in the choir. A total scandal in the pervading conservative environment. This is the reason he was so apprehensive and why so much was at stake.
Karis had grown up sexually conflicted since his preteen years. He was a shy awkward and pretty boy who loved to spend time with his sisters while his agemates were busy falling off mango trees, fighting, playing football, decapitating lizards, stoning stray cats and dogs and swimming in dirty river water (which they silently peed in while gleefully watching their friends swim).
He found solace sitting by his sisters as they made dolls and pampered them in mock parenting. Even when the boys joined the girls to play cha mama na baba, Karis was content to play a gender neutral or nonhuman role - like say a pet, wary of any patriarchal inclinations.
He'd proceeded to attend a boys' only high school, initially finding it awkward to fit in. He was the self conscious boy who would close the bathroom door while bathing, when the other boys were happily prancing around parading their manhoods. So uncomfortable and shy around boys was he that they nicknamed him Kayeng, also in appreciation of his effeminate looks and disposition. For reasons known to him, but which became clear later, Karis never took offence for being called Kayeng. He embraced the name wholeheartedly and even signed off notes under the name. And so continued his awkward stay in a boys' school for a couple of months.
Until something momentous happened.
One day after a rigorous cross country run, which he was almost always last, Karis was taking a cold shower. Most of his colleagues had proceeded for dinner. He heard some commotion on his bathroom door and paused the shower to listen. He looked up and saw an unfamiliar face looking down on him from the top of the bathroom door. A little shaken he grabbed his towel to wrap around himself as he pondered on how to react to this intrusion.
"Hey Kayeng", the intruder whispered, "can i come shower with you? I think you're beautiful!"
Kayeng could not find the words to respond. Meanwhile the intuder had not waited for an answer. He hsd already scaled the bathroom door and joined him. Still shocked, he watched the intruder undress, open the shower, grab the soap and start to Karis him up gently. He gestured to him to reciprocate. Karis obliged, still puzzled but feeling sensations that he could not explain. And so these two boys spent an hour in the bathroom lathering each other and doing other erotic things. This was Kayeng's coming out of the closet moment, albeit to himself and this unexpected intruder-turned-lover. And so began a secret same-sex relationship between these two students, Muita and Karis, that lasted for the next 2 years. In those two years Karis discovered his sexuality, and also came to learn of how much of a taboo this was and the risks posed if they were ever caught. They were never caught, though there were suspicious and curious -sometimes hostile - glances when they were hanging out together. For they were so happy around each other. Muita tall and dark football star already sporting a goatee and a loud booming voice. Karis, as effeminate as ever and happily under Muita's protective wing.
Until Muita sat for his O-levels.
Karis was an emotional mess as Muita's high school stint ended. He wept uncontrollably as they embraced under the cold shower for the last time. Muita promised to visit him frequently after school and stay in touch, a promise Muita never kept. It was the last time Karis ever saw Muita.
Karis did not fully recover from his heartbreak but the passage of time helped him to cope through the remaining 2 years of school. He thought and dreamt about Muita every day and the different world he'd enabled him discover. A world he had realised was unconventional and highly scorned upon. Although he still had same-sex crushes, he never mustered the courage to make any moves, staying celibate till the end of school. He never felt attracted to girls but made great company as he had as a kid, which they loved.
He completed school, went to college and soon after got himself a nice job. His rise was fast, and the perks afforded him a comfortable life.
His family and friends, predictably, began to throw hints that it was time to get himself a family. Repugnant as the idea was to him, he took it as a rite of passage that he must go through to assuage society, and started looking around for a mate. A friend in his church introduced him to his future wife, a choir girl who sang and danced so passionately every Sunday in a trademark short and red skirt, that gripped her hips scandalously and exposed her well oiled thighs. Many young men in church were pursuing her but for some reason, she seemed to have a great liking for Karis. She got a mutual friend to introduce him. He went through the motions of acquaintance, dating, courtship and eventual marriage, grateful that the past was in the closet again, this time hopefully for good. He was so affectionate and caring towards his new wife, that for many it appeared like romantic love. He was however hardly interested in her sexually, she soon came to discover. Somehow though, they managed to sire a baby girl. She realized she had made tradeoffs for marriage and the security it accorded her, while losing on conjugal pleasures, something she learnt to live with. She had no idea why he was so low energy and terrified of sex, suspecting it to be inexperience and hoping to work on him as they went along.
And so every Sunday the young model family would walk into the church, a little late for maximum impact, holding hands, smiling and make the purposeful walk to the front row, much to the envy of many. That was their routine. His wife had since abandoned the choir and dressed more conservatively.
All was going well until the all-too-familiar feeling hit him spotting a certain choirboy named Ouma. He knew that Cupid had flung a poisonous arrow to his life. He became restless, contemplated risking everything, like he had many years back in the school's bathrooms. Only this time he would be the hunter, pursuing a younger man.
After months of false starts and awkward chitchat, Karis decided mbaya mbaya. Having taken time to scheme, he was ready for the perfect opportunity. He noted that Ouma, the ever-cheerful choirboy, always stayed behind to move the musical equipment to a storage room, right behind the pew. He'd observed his movements a couple of times and memorized them.
And so on 23rd June 2013, Karis asked his wife and daughter to proceed home after the Sunday service, ostensibly because he had some business he needed to discuss with the pastor.
He sat back after the service, making small talk and watching as the congregants left one after the other. A few still continued to hang around the church compound talking, laughing and but eventually leaving.
Karis watched as Ouma picked the last of the instruments and went into the store, pushing the door behind him.
"Now!", Karis said to himself.
Casually- so as to avoid being noticed- he walked towards the store, stood at the door, looking around in case anyone was watching. No one was, so he pushed the door and walked in closing the door behind him. He paused to look around the room and also give himself time to calm his nerves. After about 3 minutes he continued walking, barely holding back his excitement at everything was working according to plan.
There was no bathroom to intrude here but he still hoped to relive the events of 15 years ago with Muita. He pictured himself walking in on a startled Ouma.
"Ouma may i come in?", he'd whisper the way Muita whispered to him in that bathroom. Ouma would be dumpfounded, like Karis was back then. He'd proceed to touch him, seduce him, have him. Just like Muita did.
He crossed over some drums and percussion instruments laid on the floor, heading towards an inner room where he suspected Ouma was, probably taking an inventory of the equipment he'd just stored.
Then he heard some noise. He crept closer, puzzled, wondering if there was another person talking to Ouma or it was a radio. Then he saw them.
His church pastor Reverend Musa Kiprop (the one who a few minutes earlier had threatened fire and brimstones as the just wage for tragressions) and Ouma were locked in a noisy coital embrace. They did not see him. The elder man still adorning his clerical garb.
He stood there watching, fascinated by the energy the 60+ year's old man of the cloth, the shepherd (and a father of 6 adults) exuded. It was a duet, Ouma hitting the high notes and Reverend Kiprop enriching the performance with a crackling off key baritone.
He felt the powerful crush he had on Ouma ebbing away slowly, like a deflating tire. He felt the feelings of guilt and unworthiness that he'd carried since he discovered he was 'different' dissipate. He felt free. Liberated.
Quietly and unobtrusively he found his way out, closed the door behind him and left for home.
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