I was on one of my usual Twitter breaks when I read it. The mundanity and monotony of work was grating. Frequent Twitter breaks helped assuage my boring mind, urging it to keep on working. I was scrolling through, as I usually did, half distracted, half attentive. I scrolled past it then scrolled back up. My hand started trembling. My breath hitched. Unbelieving, I forced myself to read it again. I blinked once. Blinked again. Slowly, carefully, I forced myself to read it again. Oh my God.
It’s Here! Kenyan Government Passes Gay Marriage Bill.
Holaa was a reliable source but I still couldn’t believe it. When you have waited for something for so long, when it finally drops on your lap, it’s hard to believe. Holding my breath, I quickly keyed in a search for the local dailies. Something so momentous would definitely be tabled under breaking news. Something this magnanimous, something that was bound to shake cultural norms in Kenya, would be a top headline. Oh my God. It was true.
My phone started ringing. I couldn’t pick it. I slowly stood up and walked to the washroom. As soon as the door closed, the tears started dripping. Finally. Wow. We had hoped when we heard the Bill was being tabled. But hope is a fleeting and fickle feeling. The members of parliament backed by religious leaders had put up a very strong fight. But we had won. Finally. I could feel my heart expanding, along with my brain, trying to wrap itself around the thought. Oh my God. Esther.
If she hadn’t seen the news yet, I wanted her to hear it from me. We had been together for 6 years, the last 2 had been spent dreaming of eloping to South Africa and getting married. It was a pipe dream that served to add some solidity to our relationship. We could joke about marriage because it wasn’t legal. We could laugh about it because it was something that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon. But it was here. It was finally here. I needed to talk to her.
Wiping the tears, I made my way back to my desk. Walking past my workmates, I felt the all familiar desire for a fellow queer person. Someone we could go cry and hug in the bathroom together. Someone who could understand the gravity of this moment. At my desk, I grabbed my phone and dialed Esther.
Have you heard?
I guess we’ll have to unpack the things we had packed for South Africa.
Can you get the afternoon off?
Let me try.
I hang up. I quickly grabbed my bag and walked towards my boss’ office. I explained that there was a family emergency that required my immediate attention. She nodded her assent and I left. Esther and I lived a few blocks from my office. She opened the door as soon as she heard my key turn. Stark naked, she lunged at me.
Shouldn’t we at least close the door first?
Growling, she pulled me inside, slammed the door and kissed me.
There was a lot to think about. A lot to talk through. Now that it was actually possible, would we do it? What would we tell our parents who still thought we were ‘roommates’ and best friends. I knew my parents were completely against homosexuality. They had actually been fasting and praying for the bill not to be passed.
Our greatest hurdle had been removed from the path but there were still other obstacles to be navigated past. In that moment however, with my woman digging her teeth into my neck, I had much to celebrate. I pushed those thoughts away and gave in to the ministrations of my future wife.
Her head was bobbing between my legs, her tongue swirling around my essence. I was really close and we both knew it. Just as I was about to reach the peak and plummet off, she broke contact and looked up.
“So where do you think we should go for our honeymoon?”