Thought Picnic: My regret at doing nothing about that love

I was crazy in love

Yesterday would have been Chris’ 44^th birthday, the 8^th since he passed away unexpectedly in London in mid-October 2009, just a few days after I was discharged from the hospital.

I loved him and yet could not stand him because he had this hold on my heart that left me too crazy to think with my head, I was just crazy for him.

Then again, I was afraid, I was unsure and I was hesitant. We were conducting a difficult long-distance relationship that had us rendezvous everywhere abroad but at home, except for the first time when he visited me in Amsterdam. I should have had him come over to live with me in Amsterdam, with all the sacrifices it would entail.

He was a crazy man

There is nothing I can do about it now but work with hindsight and hope that I have learnt some hard lessons about love, commitment and following your heart. Chris ticked all the boxes of looks and passion, great fun, wicked sense of humour but with an evil streak that sometimes made me wonder how I got involved in this crazy game.

There was a past that haunted him that sometimes clouded his better judgement, I could make allowances for a lot, but there were times I needed to escape from it all to give my heart a time for recovery.

This was crazy news

One such time was at the time when I fell ill, I did not respond to any of his messages, I was hurting too much, in the pain of love and indifference, his calls and questions in messages left unanswered and then I was in hospital without telling him I was gravely ill. He probably was gravely ill too, I did not know.

It was two weeks after I was discharged from hospital that I sent him a message, being sorry for not keeping in touch and how much as I love and miss him, we just had this crazy, crazy relationship. When I received a response, my heart skipped a beat, the first sentence literally killed me.

His housemate responding informed me that Chris had died just two weeks before of renal failure, the love I thought I had, had gone.

Thought Picnic: The hold of that thing that brings grief

The man

It is with sadness that one reports the news that a respected guiding light and a father figure, someone who had assumed a fatherly influence over others finds himself sent to jail [1] for 8 months for offences of the flesh.

Before I begin to sound sanctimonious, it is important to address some serious matters that people in similar circumstances will do well to take heed off.

The said religious leader who has a very respectable following as well as the commendation of his peers that he sits on boards of their organisations in the UK and abroad has lived with that thing that he has battled with years.

The struggle

He might have hoped to insulate himself by aversion therapy by being married, having children and building an institution that thrives on the promotion of family values and some apparently succeed.

It however does not mean that thing is in volcanology terms extinct, in his case, it was dormant and occasion presented itself for the mountain to rumble, maybe the earth did move and one cannot say for sure if the volcano itself did become active, but you do get the idea that I do not have to develop the analogy any further before this blog needs to be rated.

A volcano remains a volcano whatever state it might be in, one might expect over time certain circumstances might allow for the awesomeness of the volcano to exhibit itself.

It would appear that the man succumbed at various times to his weakness and might have by reason of his office and leadership imposed himself on others who could not effectively resist his advances and he sought his inordinate pleasures.

The abuses

Now, there is nothing wrong with adults seeking the pleasure and company of each other for sexual satisfaction, it is then a matter of consent and willingness – we should not as adults be ashamed to be engaged in things that adults do consensually amongst themselves, that is why we are adults.

Adults however have responsibilities, they have authority, they could be role models and they might be looked upon for guidance by trusting non-adults.

In this case, an adolescent was fondled and it appears that experience completely traumatised him that it seemed to affect many productive spheres of his young life.

In the other case, a man though under the authority of this man appears to have been persistently inappropriately touched in what was a classic situation of a breach of trust.

It would appear the man had form since there were eight allegations in all and not all those affected were persuaded enough to give their statements to the police.

That thing

It goes without saying that “that thing” despite the case of being violated carries a stigma in a community that is willingly illiberal, stridently intolerant and scripturally schooled in vile homophobia.

The fact is people do struggle with their sexuality and many more than we all care to acknowledge, some suppress their urges but my volcanology analogy should be kept in mind; some find some expression for it living double lives on the “down-low”; others embrace their lot and get on with their lives; that is a fact of life.

What cannot be condoned and hence making this sad story a case of justice is where people try to find expression secretly by the abuse of minors and hope that the weight of their office will keep the act concealed.

Who we are

There is in fact no substitute to just being who you are, accepting who you are and dealing with it; a failure to accept who you are would almost always bring you to grief with grave and possibly shameful consequences.

What could have been could have been different – it does not make the ministry of the man to the time of his accusation any less valid and of value to those who enjoyed his spiritual guidance and tutelage.

At the end of this sorry saga, a man of God is first a man with all his weaknesses then of God seeking strength to help manage his frailties.

It would be a test of Christian love for the church to help rehabilitate the victims and be ready to welcome back their leader when his time is done; that test, many a church has failed.

The hold of “that thing” continues to have its hold and it does not necessarily have to be homosexuality, everyone has something that is “that thing” to them – we are only human.

Sources

[1] Evangelical pastor Odulele sentenced for sex offences - Channel 4 News

Other references

About Glory House

The UK: Child Sexual Abuse in Nigerian Communities

Thought Picnic: Debunking the myth of the man of God

Opening the mouth of the father - Part 1

Maybe just maybe

Maybe just maybe, it was a recommendation from big brother, a nice girl who would make a beautiful wife, I know her family well.

Maybe indeed big brother is unto something that would redeem the unbrotherliness of time past, fingers crossed and all boxes about to be crossed too.

My friend said at first, you cannot have similarities, having spent more than half your life in Europe, the idea that you are of similar cultures is just out of the question, you change and adapt when you live elsewhere, the pretensions to keeping abreast of developments at home in terms of culture is delusional at best.

Are we like them too?

Beyond that, we would probably never get wives like the generation of our mothers whose forbearance in the midst of untenable circumstance can only be considered legendary, they in some cases served their husbands like slaves and were under the stress and constant threat of the other woman, real or imagined.

The generation of our fathers cannot be said to have been the most gentlemanly in terms of the way they sometimes wielded power in their fiefdoms.

Partnerships of today call for cooperation rather than unquestioned submission; there has to be adjustments on all sides. The subjugation of the wife to the point that she cannot be self-reliant because of the egotistical demeanour of the husband would put the marriage in the divorce courts long before the bridegroom has been opportuned to kiss the bride.

Many long distance calls

The groundwork had been set for the beginning of a wonderful partnership as each party tried to determine if the other was the person with whom vows intended and pretended could be made.

With numbers acquired, the affair began on the phone, a girl in university, irrationally scared of her father but seemingly interesting, for months, the expectations blossomed into possibilities with niggling doubts.

Maybe, just maybe the peeling of the bells will be heard soon.

To be continued...

Blog - Opening the mouth of the father - Part 1

Blog - Opening the mouth of the father - Part 2

Blog - Opening the mouth of the father - Part 3

Blog - Opening the mouth of the father - Part 4

Blog - Opening the mouth of the father - Part 5

Blog - Opening the mouth of the father - Part falls apart

Beyoncé: Her thighs could throttle a buffalo

Dressed up as naked

I am no fan of Beyoncé, in fact, when she came to perform in Amsterdam a few years ago, there was a big poster just outside my block and she was clothed in the most expensive non-dress I have ever seen, a string of diamonds - the Emperor's New Clothes would have given her more covering than what she had on.

It transpires Beyoncé is on a UK tour and her first date was at the NEC Birmingham on the 1^st of June 2007.

Michael Deacon - he would be quoted liberally in this piece and I acknowledge his inspiration for this piece - lets the ink flow from supposing hip-hop is being replaced by a musical genre called Indie - "the Texan bravely battles obsolescence the only way pop knows how: by spending stupendous sums of money", he says, and goes on the describe the dress as a glittering silver gown and the background is a Niagara of lights.

The performance extraordinaire

She starts off with Crazy In Love as every song is brash, ballsy, brassy - amazing how she gallops about the stage - "given that her stilettos are so tall, she must need a stepladder to climb into them" - You tell me.

These two paragraphs had me giggling into the paper as I read -

She changes clothes every five songs. The changes don't take long, presumably because none of the outfits features much material. But then, it would take a fair amount of material to encase a body as curvaceous as Beyoncé's.

She's at least 65 per cent bottom. Her thighs could throttle a buffalo.

He faults Beyoncé's pronunciation of Birmingham as sounding like a brand of sliced meat, and as the show ends, the credits roll on for eternity to include the names of the 20 bus and truck drivers.

I suppose that is all you can get for a courtesy ticket to a Beyoncé concert, as the reviewer convinces himself that Indie does have a big fight on its hands.

As for me, a free ticket with VIP trimmings might help me find time to feast my eyes on the thang that would out-vibrate any adult toy, no matter the speed - I'm all Crazy in Love so suddenly - NOT!