{"id":89,"date":"2015-09-25T03:28:09","date_gmt":"2015-09-25T03:28:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/staging\/?p=89"},"modified":"2026-05-28T23:00:04","modified_gmt":"2026-05-28T23:00:04","slug":"abimbola-adebayo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/abimbola-adebayo\/","title":{"rendered":"Abimbola Adebayo"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Heart is where the Man is<\/strong><\/h2>\n

\u201cThe British are coming!\u201d Muyiwa Adeniyi shouted from the bedroom window upstairs. He watched Dami drive in from the airport with their older brothers, Kunle and Wole, who came in from London on holidays. They were not British citizens; but he called them Brits, atypically, because they were both studying medicine in a College there. Their older brothers lived with their father\u2019s younger brother, Uncle Bayo, and his family in London.<\/p>\n

Now that Kunle and Wole were home on holidays, Dami and Muyiwa planned to abandon their housework; obliging the older ones who had a distinctive air of responsibility. Muyiwa ran past their mom at the dining table and pounced playfully on Kunle and Wole at the front door. \u201cPlease don’t break my door,\u201d their mom warned them; smiling. The older boys exchanged pleasantries with their mother and they all laughed heartily.<\/p>\n

A grand silhouette of the Adeniyi’s house stood mid-way on the street. Posh and solid. Mr. Adeniyi looked on, his sons were talking boisterously at dinner. He, also, was a London trained engineer. He was scrupulous and ambitious and so were his boys. He looked at his wife; \u201clet us toast the Londoners,\u201d Mr. Adeniyi said. They raised their glasses of red wine. \u201cTo long life and abounding successes,\u201d he said proudly. They said cheers and a round of drinking and laughter followed. It was a good evening.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, we bumped into Emeka Anozie in London,\u201d Kunle managed to say in the midst of the gaiety. They all fell silent. The Anozies were their next door neighbors for nearly two decades until a fire accident took the lives of mother, father and two daughters. Only Emeka survived. After the inferno, Emeka left his home without a trace.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh really! How’s he doing? And why did he leave home without a word? His cousin said that he did not know where he was,\u201d his father asked anxiously with his mouth full of fish and vegetables.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe left home to do a fashion design training in London,\u201d Kunle replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cEmeka is now gay,\u201d Wole said soberly looking at no one in particular.<\/p>\n

There was more silence in the room. They were all shocked. Their dad dropped his fork in his plate and shook his head. \u201cDid you just say gay?\u201d He asked in bewilderment. \u201cBut he was dating Seun back then. Wasn’t he?\u201d He asked.<\/p>\n

Wole nodded and dug his fork into the stockfish in his plate, he looked into his food and avoided his dad’s puzzled gaze. Emeka wore jewelry in his ears and nose and make up and cornrows too, and his swagger was exaggeratedly feminine. \u201cHe said that women did not appeal to him anymore and that he was now contented with men,\u201d Wole added.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Emeka Anozie was Kunle and Wole\u2019s childhood friend, they used to play football together and talk about girls in their spare time; in hush tones and coded words. Emeka was a sweetheart; he was marked by downright assuredness and sanguinity. When the Adeniyi boys bumped into him in London, it was difficult for them to look away; even though he was gay. He told them that he was in dire need of accommodation; he faked a British accent as he spoke to them and he stood with his arms akimbo. Kunle reckoned that Emeka needed to be in proximity of tolerant people; Uncle Bayo\u2019s family could afford that and they too, his closest friends. As the eldest, he summoned the courage to ask his Uncle if their friend could live in his house, but he did not make mention of Emeka’s queerness. \u201cWe\u2019ll like to meet him first,\u201d Uncle Bayo said to Kunle that night.<\/p>\n

When Emeka stepped into the parlor, he observed that Uncle Bayo and his wife frowned at his cornrows and the pink scarf that held his pants together. They were flabbergasted and inarticulate with surprise, notwithstanding, they managed to scrutinize him meticulously. They asked him about a score questions; averting their eyes from his gaze, occasionally, when he caught them staring at his neat cornrows. \u201cI was living with my boyfriend, John, but his parents stopped paying his house rent because they did not approve of a gay relationship,\u201d Emeka had said to them. \u201cI will leave for Nigeria at the end of next month, when my program finishes,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n

Their uncle sighed and looked at his wife. It was a tough verdict, this one; because they were parents to four young adults, his nephews inclusive. Both husband and wife whispered into each other’s ears for a long time, finally Uncle Bayo said; \u201cson, you can stay for as long as you want.\u201d<\/p>\n

The boys were overjoyed; they could hardly believe it. It was sheer luck.<\/p>\n

\u201cEmeka has been living in Uncle Bayo\u2019s house because he does not have a place to stay,\u201d Kunle said; taking his dad away from his stray thoughts.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow could Bayo allow a homosexual live in his house? What happened to his scruples? What an irresponsible decision!\u201d Their father lamented. \u201cFor crying out loud, this boy left home without a word. Does he know if he\u2019s running away from the law? So Bayo will encourage you too, if you ever wanted to be gay! Instead of you to talk some sense into Emeka, you are both parading him like a fine piece of art!\u201d their dad said irritatedly.<\/p>\n

It seemed odd to the boys; nobody should tell you who to love and who you shouldn\u2019t love.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy, I like Emeka,\u201d Muyiwa said with the wit of a fourteen-year-old. \u201cEven if Emeka is gay and even if he is a criminal; I will let him stay in my room,\u201d he said stubbornly.<\/p>\n

Emeka had taught Muyiwa and Dami how to throw punches because both of them were being bullied in school. Dami nodded in approval of what his brother said; he could not believe that Muyiwa could express his feelings to their dad on such a touchy subject. He was delighted; Dami had no doubt that Muyiwa would hold one\u2019s own when he leaves him at home to study in London.
\n<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi shot a warning look at his youngest son, who gave him a pout in return, daring the consequences. The Adeniyi men had a zero-tolerance for wantonness. Infact, Uncle Bayo had once beaten a homosexual who lived down their block when he was a teenager, but he matured over the years. \u201cThe world is falling apart because human beings lack empathy. We all need to enter one another\u2019s feelings and not condemn ourselves. Condemnation only creates monsters. You see, we need to protect the weak, the disoriented, the condemned, the defenseless and the likes of them because their state of mind could be beneficial or detrimental to us.\u201d Uncle Bayo had said to his children and nephews.<\/p>\n

\u201cEmpathy should be offered to every human being who needs help. That is our code of honor,\u201d Wole retorted.<\/p>\n

There was dead silence.<\/p>\n

Dami and Muyiwa glanced at each other, both of them dreaded the consequences of their brother\u2019s outburst. Wole wanted to bite his tongue afterwards. \u201cI\u2019m sorry sir,\u201d he said quickly, lowering his eyes. He could not afford to get into trouble because there was a lot at stake. Their mom shrugged uneasily in her chair. Her husband would have asked the boys to go upstairs and remain there until he sent for them. But he did not. They were now men. Calculative and determined.<\/p>\n

The Pashtunwali code of honor was all over the news that year. It was an extremist moral view in some parts of Afghanistan and Pakistan. Four U.S. Navy SEAL went on a mission to capture a Taliban leader in Afghanistan, but the mission was unexpectedly compromised. The soldiers were ambushed by Taliban fighters who killed three of them and injured one. One Afghanistani sabray chief; Mohammed Gulab and some villagers harbored and protected the wounded American soldier, fending off attacking tribes until word was sent to nearby US forces. It was their code of honor. This code of honor known as Pashtunwali means that hospitality, asylum, mercy and shelter be provided for all who require it; especially strangers or guests, despite their background and intentions. The Adeniyi boys had applauded the Afghanistani\u2019s effort in protecting the American soldier and their Uncle\u2019s mutual understanding for Emeka, too, and they expected their father to do likewise.<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi pushed his chair backwards from beneath him and got up hastily, leaving his family on the dining table. He did not want to hear about any radical code of honor. He expected his sons to abstain from wrongdoers and also, to take his instructions and judgments critically, but they did not.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Emeka put his luggages on the clean floor. Carrying them had become a strenuous and monotonous exercise since he left London. He looked around the open space and sighed in relief, the house was almost done; his kissing cousin, Ebuka, had supervised the renovation while he was away and he was grateful for it. He opened one of the letters Ebuka kept in the locker downstairs. They were about a dozen, all of them written by Seun. He had dated her for four years in secondary school, but she broke up with him shortly after the fire accident.<\/p>\n

Hi<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/em>I hope you read this before throwing it away. I am writing you for the umpteenth time and still no response; your silence is driving me crazy. Why did you leave like that? I’m dead worried. Emeka, I still love you and I regret my actions. It wasn’t my fault; my parents asked me to break up with you because they felt that we were too young to date and they felt that we did not make accountability our priority. We\u2019re both twenty-one-year olds now. Nobody can tell us what to do anymore. Please call me as soon as you read this. <\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/em>Love, Seun.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/em>An avalanche of memories rushed into Emeka’s head. He wanted to tear Seun\u2019s letter, but the doorbell rang. He did not have time for shenanigans, he had taken a hard line on her; he was in love with John and nobody else mattered. Seun lost her opportunity because she was undiscerning. He had loved and cared for her thoroughly and he stood up for her in school and helped her with her assignments too, but she had refused to tell her family members that they were dating and as soon as they got wind of it; they asked her to call off the relationship. And she too, did, in his most nerve-wracking moments.<\/p>\n

Emeka wiped away his tears and walked sheer to the door. To his utmost surprise, Mrs. Adeniyi and her younger sons stepped into the sitting room. The Adeniyis were elated. Muyiwa hugged Emeka tightly, grinning from ear to ear. Kunle and Wole had since returned to their part-time jobs and studies in London. Muyiwa had come running into the parlor, shouting that he saw some light in Emeka’s house. He, his mother and Dami dashed out of the house to go and see; leaving only Mr. Adeniyi in the parlor.<\/p>\n

\u201cEmeka,\u201d Mrs. Adeniyi said as she walked in with her boys. \u201cWhy did you leave like that?\u201d Her penetrating eyes sized him up. His ponytail and make up gave him a pretty look and he looked dashing in a pair of skinny jeans and sweat shirt. Mrs. Adeniyi\u2019s presence reminded him of her evening visits to see his mother; Emeka shivered.<\/p>\n

“I’m sorry ma. I was depressed. I needed to get out of this place quickly,\u201d he replied in a British accent.<\/p>\n

There was a bit of silence.<\/p>\n

Emeka playfully twisted Muyiwa\u2019s hand in a bid to conceal the awkwardness. \u201cDo those boys still bully you?\u201d Emeka asked them. The boys said no and asked him about London. They all sat on the new sofa. He told them that he had gotten some money from his parents\u2019 estates to renovate the house and study for a diploma in London. \u201cSince Seun broke up with me, I felt that it was not necessary to stay here any longer,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

“Is Seun the reason for your gayness?\u201d Mrs. Adeniyi asked.
\n<\/p>\n

Emeka twitched; he did not want to talk about Seun. \u201cI met some hippies in my class in London, at first I thought they were insane, but I found out that they were good and fun-loving people. They were unassuming, liberal and helpful and they gave me some money to support myself. We were all taking hard drugs and having group sex and I became interested in John, a British Caucasian about my age. He is not overly sensitive like Seun. Women are sensitive and complex, and I don\u2019t need that right now,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Adeniyi heaved a deep sigh. It was not the time to talk, she just wanted to listen.<\/p>\n

The door opened suddenly. They were all startled. Mr. Adeniyi barged into the sitting room; his face was cold and wrinkled. Emeka jumped up from the sofa. \u201cHello sir,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

“Emeka what’s all this nonsense I\u2019m hearing about you being gay? Where did this emanate from?\u201d Mr. Adeniyi asked standoffishly. \u201cThis is not acceptable at all. I need you to clean up your acts at once. If not I will give you a good whipping. Do you understand?\u201d He asked angrily. He looked at his family and beckoned to them. \u201cWe must leave now,\u201d he said, dignified. His mission was a standoff.<\/p>\n

Emeka swallowed hard as he watched Mr. Adeniyi storm out of the house with his family tailing behind him. Kunle and Wole told him nothing about their father’s reaction to his gayness. They only told him that their parents were surprised that they met him in London. Emeka reached for his mobile phone in his butt pocket; he wanted to share his experience with John. There were all kinds of them, both of them were dehumanized and victimized because of their sexual preferences and racial differences, but this one was somewhat unusual. It was personal to him.<\/p>\n

At a party in London, one of Uncle Bayo\u2019s guests had refused to take food from Emeka when he served her. \u201cAre you a boy or a girl? Who brought you into this respectable family?\u201d she had asked him disdainfully, looking intently at his long braids. Emeka was sulky.<\/p>\n

Kunle, who observed them from afar walked up to Emeka and asked him what the lady had said to make him downcast. \u201cEmeka to be honest with you, I think that lady is jealous of your hairdo, did you notice that she is bald,\u201d Kunle whispered to Emeka that evening. Both of them laughed hard, their bodies quivered as they did. The lady looked at them and let out a loud hiss. She knew they were talking about her and making jest of her; so she took her bag and left the house, slighted.<\/p>\n

Emeka looked into his phone, there was a new chat from John. He glanced at the last sentence; he suspected that there was trouble. Emeka closed his eyes for a few seconds and hoped for the best. He read it anxiously, his heart raced as he did.<\/p>\n

 <\/em>Hi. <\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019m sorry I didn’t tell you this before you left. My parents have been threatening to bequeath their estates to charity if I do not break up with you. As a result of that I can no longer continue this relationship. Also, they have hooked me up with Catherine, a nice neighbor. Emeka I\u2019m afraid you will no longer hear from me. Please forgive me.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Emeka lost his balance. He did not see it coming, the signs were implicit. How familiar; John too, could not stand up to his kins and he was panic-stricken at the mention of an unread testament.  \u201cI must be jinxed,\u201d Emeka murmured. He managed to find the floor and sat on it, demoralized, he knocked his feeble knees together. \u201cD\u00e9j\u00e0 vu!\u201d he lamented. It was happening all over again.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi slouched in the bedroom couch; his emotions have been running high and low since he was told that Emeka was gay. Emeka\u2019s homosexualism created a divide in his home and he was not pleased about it. His wife and children were sympathetic in their view of him and his brother had let him into his home without much ado; only he was struggling with good conscience. It was amoral to accept Emeka\u2019s gayness; that was all he knew. Mr. Adeniyi was raised to be critical of others; it was difficult to evolve from that mentality.<\/p>\n

He and his brother were brought up by their dad to abhor wrongdoers, as young boys they had complied with their father\u2019s instructions painstakingly; because, according to him, obeying him meant that they loved him and it meant that they would be loved in return, else they would be severely penalized. Their dad also made factotums out of them and he whipped them at his slightest provocation; he was surly unforgiving and disagreeable. Both brothers would hide until their mother told them that it was okay to come out.<\/p>\n

Those days were over, but the repercussion lingered.<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi sighed. The Afghanistani\u2019s kind heartedness towards the American soldier was a formidable act of benevolence, his head would have gone for it; but he showed empathy all the same. It was an act his sons wished he could replicate and approve, but he could not; he was ashamed of himself. A pang of conscience ran through him. He sighed again and watched his wife sway across the large bedroom. \u201cGood morning. A penny for your thoughts,\u201d she said to him. He shifted himself on the couch and looked away from her. She smiled. She knew he was thinking about Emeka. \u201cDarling, Emeka needs sympathy from us and not torture. At this point, we should be careful what we say or do to him; more than ever before because isolated and censured people tend to be harmful to themselves and those around them. If we do not embrace Emeka, he will easily take to people that identify with him; even fiends or hostile groups,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi shuddered in fear; he could not bear to think of Emeka as a menace to society. Emeka was like his own son and the thought of losing a son to an antipathetic faction was heartrending.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoney, I am not asking you for the head of John the Baptist, I need you to look past Emeka\u2019s shortcomings; there is more to Emeka than just his sexuality-. The real Emeka is right here,\u201d she said thumping her heart. \u201cDarling, the heart is where the man is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi sighed again. He wanted to act judiciously; he also wanted to stay in character as a good example to his sons, but it was not as easy as that. \u201cIf one of our boys decides to be gay, do we allow him to act foolishly?\u201d Mr. Adeniyi asked his wife soberly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo we will not and we will not beat him on the head over it if he insists on doing otherwise because things spiral out of control when force is used. Rather we will apply empathy. Empathy is a catalyst, for better things to come,\u201d she replied. \u201cCondemnation reduces ones self-esteem, his failures are our failures too; you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi looked into his wife’s eyes. She was perfect; he felt small and stupid. There were tears in his eyes, he looked away from her. \u201cI\u2019m afraid that I cannot love a son beyond how my father loved me,\u201d he said painfully.<\/p>\n

She placed her hand on his shoulder, stroking him gently and searching for his eyes; \u201cI am also afraid that I can love a son immeasurably. Sometimes I am afraid of my capabilities and tolerances. We are not different from each other,\u201d she replied and smiled.<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi took a deep breath and managed to smile back.
\n<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

That morning, Mr. Adeniyi took his family to Emeka’s house. He wanted to talk to him about everything and he wanted to apologize for acting rashly the previous day. He planned to say, \u201cEmeka you are my son. I love you more than this homosexualism; it is you that matters to me.\u201d Emeka\u2019s door was opened and they let themselves in. Mrs. Adeniyi had prepared breakfast; after speaking with him, they would all go back to their house to eat and Emeka would sleep over.<\/p>\n

The house was quiet. Mrs. Adeniyi called out to him, but there was no response. \u201cI hope he has not left us again,\u201d Mr. Adeniyi said anxiously. Dami and Muyiwa ran upstairs in search of him, they both screamed when they reached his bedroom. Mr. and Mrs. Adeniyi looked at each other and made for the staircase, running as fast as their legs could take them. Emeka’s body was dangling from the ceiling. They were all shaken. The boys had not seen a lifeless body before, it was cryptic. The boys and their father managed to cut him loose; they laid his pale body on the bed, confused.<\/p>\n

Mr. Adeniyi began to sob as if it just dawned on him that Emeka was gone. His sons joined him, they were all bitter and aching. \u201cSon why? Why did you do this to me? Please, I\u2019m so sorry. Forgive me. What am I going to tell my older sons?\u201d Mr. Adeniyi blabbed.<\/p>\n

His wife held his shoulders. \u201cIt’s not your fault. We need to call the police,\u201d she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. She and her children knew that Emeka was suicidal, but they had come in late; he beat them to it. What nerves?\u201d she asked herself. <\/em>Suicide is one of the hardest decisions any man can make; it\u2019s even harder than the pressing challenges that may lead him to it. Mrs. Adeniyi heaved deeply.<\/p>\n

 <\/em>\u201cI\u2019ll get my phone from the house,\u201d she said as she walked out of the room. When she reached her house she picked up her phone from the dining table; but instead of making the call, she sat on the floor and began to cry, hugging herself as she did. Her heart was throbbing. From where she was, she heard the loud sobbing of her family from the next house. She managed to call the police on her mobile phone and then she walked back to Emeka’s house to await them.<\/p>\n

When she got there, Emeka began to cough. She stopped in her tracks. Emeka\u2019s lips moved, he coughed and stroked his throat gently. It was a miracle. They all rushed to his side. Mrs. Adeniyi hushed him up and called the ambulance, rambling into the mouthpiece of her mobile phone. They were all glad.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can’t wait for the ambulance. Let’s take him to the hospital; I\u2019ll get the car,\u201d Mr. Adeniyi said as he jumped to his feet. He thanked God for a second chance, he was going to make things right this time around.<\/p>\n

\u201cEmeka,\u201d Muyiwa whispered as he stroked Emeka\u2019s pale palm, refusing to look away from him; \u201cdon’t ever go away,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Emeka smiled weakly, his throat burned. \u201cGoing away does not do anything,\u201d he whispered back as tears rolled down his face. He was happy that he survived.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Heart is where the Man is<\/b>
\n\u201cThe British are coming!\u201d Muyiwa Adeniyi shouted from the bedroom window upstairs. He watched Dami drive in from the airport with their older brothers, Kunle and Wole, who came in from London on holidays. They were not British citizens, but he called them Brits, atypically, because they were both studying medicine in a College there. Their older brothers lived with their father\u2019s younger brother, Uncle Bayo, and his wife in London.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":2015,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-89","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/89","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=89"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/89\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2113,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/89\/revisions\/2113"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2015"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=89"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=89"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=89"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}