The last December before grad school?

In this blog, there are many things I have written about - I have told my strories, I have deconstructed them, I have reconstructed them and reflected upon that which happens in my life. I have trained myself as a writer, especially since 2009 is the year in which I wrote the most posts in this blog, the founding year. The formative year. In 2010, I actually became a freelance writer for a travel magazine, "The Flamingo" and I joined a group of doctors who aimed to take their HIV Clinicians' Society to great heights and they taught me so much about HIV and the body and disease. In 2011 I joined a public health organisation and I applied the statistics I had studied alone in 2009-2010, that initially began just as a catch in the topic of probability that I needed to learn for the GRE and it went deep into the exploration of statistics. Now I teach GRE preparatory classes at the start of every year to a group of adults applying for the Fulbright. I also did a statistics short course in Stellenbosch this year that blew my mind and restored my positive energy, my agency. I can only thank the Lord for all my blessings, though others will claim it has been all 'me', but I know it has not. So then what I am writing this blog for.

The process of reflection. That introspection of the self, that journey to another place without having to leave home physically (well I am in my office, this is where I use the computer now, because it is the only place that is ergonomic in terms of wrist support and posture). Indeed, overcoming my injury, repeated strain injury that developed in 2011 as a result of typing up hundreds of pages of documents and SPSS click and point analyses. My arms were in so much pain, I could not use the laptop without the burn. And now, I use and take breaks every half hour, thanks to this computer program eye leo (though I sometimes postpone them, I ought to break at the scheduled time).

Love life. Oh yes, love life. Is this not what I am blogging for in any case? Hopping there will be someone out there who will take a liking to what I write and the he would look me up, here in Windhoek and find me somehow. Yeah write, write, keep on writing is what this boy Ruan Human from the Outfocus - a gay news page on facebook - told me in 2011. I had a crush on him because he raised awareness about human rights abuses in Namibia concerning same sex acts and I had a 'facebook crush' on him. In real life I decided I did not like him that much.
But so much has happened since then.
But no time now, the Eye leo break is now.

Attraction after TB talk

Blog: attraction after TB talk
P1: the doctor I was talking to could not have been more attractive. Here was this young American man sitting next to me talking to me about his research and his work : "if I want to test a patient for resistance , I just do it." the intonation of his voice and the his eyes moved seemed to hint that he was of my persuasion: gay, which even made home more of an interest to me. Indeed, he would have been a perfect partner, save the blemishes on his face. Were they acne or some type of skin disease or cuts? Were they type you get when you have HIV? So he could be a gay doctor who I also HIV positive? I did not know I was contemplating all of this till much after out talk had ended and I was left to think of our encounter in my room. It had stimulated by intellectual and emotional interests and it revealed the prejudices I held. I admit it, I am not just interested in the disease as a researcher, I also fear it like any gay man on the prowl, and despite all my knowledge I have the same fears: is it going to get me?

Postscriptum

I have seen this doctor a couple of times since that talk and I notice that the blemishes on his face are not acne or herpes sores or Kaposi Sarcoma lesions or whatever disease I though they were, but merely beauty spots, birthmarks, which make him uniquely handsome. 

Playing in Church

I write because I hope that it will help me heal, not numb the pain like just talking about it does, but help me close those wounds. It happened today, this evening at mass. What happened? Why am I making this sound so dramatic so heavy? Can't I add a bit of humor to this incident, I mean, this guy I know as a friend, Maximus, just outside the door of the church, still in the archway between the steps and the door, before those romanesque columns at the top of the few steps yells at me, his face livid: 'Pancho, get serious man, this is church you don't play in church'
'I'm sorry' I said, boy I could he was angry and this was just because I whispered 'are you leaving now?' as I walked past him on the way back to the pew where we were both sitting after communion and even then he snapped and said 'this is church!' and much louder than my question.
Before I could say much more Maximus bolted down the steps and shouted 'I'm not gay!'
At this point, I could have tried to be funny and shouted back 'tell me something I don't know?'. What happened was that phrase left me with just a wry smile and a confused face to the onlooking people that were emerging from the church and caught our conversation.

What had happened? Well, now that I think back and trace my steps, I was not sitting on same pue as Maximus when I cam in. I was much more in front. Everytime during the 'peace be with you' part of mass, I venture beyond my pew to shake hands, I to other pews behind me, on the other side of the ailse and I usually end someplace else. I always make a point of greeting the friends I see and I always greet Maximus, this time was no exception. The only difference was I ended up on the same pew as him. But we were not sitting close, even for American standards with the bubble of personal space, there were only the two of us on that pew, basically on opposite ends. So was it that I took the odd glance to my left to look at his piety that ticked him off? Or was it merely the fact I ended there, on his pew, where no one else was sitting. It puzzles me.

I tried to just read the book about the fossils of Namibia, which I bought for a family friend in Bulgaria, Victor, who studies geology. It is filled with the history and illustrations of not only the creatures that inhabitted our land eons ago, but also of the actual sites in Namibia where you can see there tracks - literally - the fossilized footprints. I read on and it reminded me of my childhood fascination with Dinosaurs and the Dinosaur magazine for kids I used to collect and read, of the Jurassica documentary on Discovery channel. But I did not get far in the book, nor in my recollections of this childhood hoby before the pain started creeping in. I remembered Massimo and what he said. Were we not friends? And he knew that I was gay, I mean he figured out the first time I met him and he said he was fine with it. He asked me for 'girl advice' and I told him I knew nothing about that department because I was into guys and he said it was cool. For a Catholic! He is young, he is about my age, perhaps a year or too younger. So I was astounded to see him act that way. That really lascerated my heart. I reminds me of when I was in fourth grade and I would come home from school and then lie on my bed, on the side so no one would see, and I would cry and cry, till my head hurt. I was different, it was clear and the kids at school made sure I knew that. Back then I did not know what this feeling of weirdness was, until much later in high school - I accepted that I was gay. No wonder they call it being queer.
Just last week I was walking down the steps as I chatted with him, 'Massimo, that's your name in Italian'
'Massimo' he repeated, intrigued. I then saw my two Italian pensioner friends (I always go to them and give the peace of Christ as la pace di Cristo) and began chatting with them and somehow my conversation with Maximus never took hold and he just left, I felt it was kind of rude. Other times, he would leave the church sooner than I did and just walk out of the grounds before we could chat. Most of the times, I would greet him and we would shake hands, in a very hip and cool way, very Namibian yet still manly. Now that I think of it, there was a time I came to him and yelled 'Maximus ! ' in a very sweet voice as I approached to embrace him and he was like 'whoa whoa whoa!' and he preempted me with a handshake that I accepted. So yeah, he did not like the whole affectionate thing and I sensed that, I responded to that appropriately.

So this is the point where I as the gay one have to reevaluate my actions, my demeanor because of course, I must have made him feel uncomfortable, something which I should have just avoided at all costs, just kept my distance. Clearly, I am saying this with irony as the fact that I am a gay man sitting on the same pew as him and yes, I did talk to him during mass as we walked back from communion, something not done in church, but did this warrant such a reaction? Now that I think about it, this is not about who was wrong and who was right. This is about him feeling uncomfortable - or his manhood threatened - and then him hurting me as a result. I felt that I was gonna get beat, really! Good thing he just vented and left.
And yet I just cannot put my finger on what happened. Two weeks ago we were chatting and he shared how he was looking for work and he idea of studying economics next year, but doing another bachelors. I advised him to just do the masters since he already has done sociology. The last thing he said that day to me was 'look, I also have this girl and we want to be together',
'so you want to get married soon and so you need to find a job?' I said, and I think he affirmed my reply, but then he also seemed to leave something unsaid. Could have tried to tell me 'lay off cause I have a girlfriend?' and why would he try to insinuate such a thing? Did he really think I was hitting on him, after meeting his girlfriend, after speaking to him after every mass I have seen him at St Mary's for the past year and half?

Yes, I admit it, the very first time I went up and spoke to him, it was because I reckoned he was the most handsome man I had seen in a long time. But that was before I got to know him and certainly before I came out to him and he was cool with it.
The only explanation I have is a deep insecurity that has brought out this side of him, that has brought out how as he told me ,'used to be'. Perhaps it has to do with looking for a job and not finding one, or something els. I do not know. I just have to put this 'mental health reason' out there for his behavior, because otherwise I will not be able to deal with pain inflicted on my heart. He could not have said those things and been of sound mind. Or perhaps he has never had a gay man sit on the same pew with him before and only now he realises it is hard to deal with.

After the incident two people spoke to me. The one was a man who asked 'if anyone had approached me before' about just my behavior in Church. Apparently, I draw out the hymns I sing and it is just too loud, he advised I just 'go with the flow of the church'. The other was a lady who as he spoke told me 'you know if that is the way you worship the Lord my dear, than do not let anyone try and tell you how you must do it.' She later stayed behind after the man left and said 'if that is your friend you should tell him you do not appreciate him for that, and you should tell him that you are serious in the church and you are not playing (Maximus had shouted 'get serious and stop playing'). She almost made me cry. She gave me a blessing and indeed she said 'blessed evening' and I returned with 'you too, you gave me a blessing'.

What am I even doing in Church? Why do I even go to this evening mass or any mass? Is there something I have missed that so many other gay men see who no longer go to Church? Is it about time I just too my leave from this 'organised, mass worhship'?

'This is not a gay Church', that is is what my brother told me this morning. He tried to use as a reason for me to wear pants instead of shorts to Church. For mothers' day, he agreed to go to Church, but 'not if I look the way I do'. So there you have it, that is what cuts so deep. Naturally I did not end up going with my mother and brother to Church. No sir. I did not conceed, as much as they tried to convince me and my mother pleading with me to put on pants, I refused and when I made my way to door of the house to leave, she shouted a hurl of insults (all in Bulgarian, so don't ask me to translate but I am sure you can guess what it has to do with).

These are the realities I have to deal, the incongruity or apparent conflict of my person, my sexual orientation (or preference?) with my faith.

We are cool with my mom now. I told her that I should have known they would have wanted me to dress up, since they are participants in this whole traditional society project. (i.e. they are normal). But, I added, they should have known I would not have wanted no part in this project. We should have had understanding (hey I spent two years in a United World College to foster international understanding) and we should have avoided the conflict somehow.

If I sinned in not conceding, I hurt my mother. If she sinned, it was because she also hurt me. No one was 'wrong', we were just two people who hurt each other (that especially goes for my brother, we hurt each other).

And perhaps wearing pants is not such a big deal, but it is for me! I spent so long getting out of having to perform, to be normal and so there was no way I would perform this morning that were a coherent family, my mother, brother and me, all dressed up nicely for Church. So I did not pretend.

Time to go to sleep. I want to dream of Dinosaurs instead.

Amazing Grace

I am here in this time and place. I just heard a rendition of Amazing Grace for Jazz Piano sang by an attractive strong male voice. I am still here in this space, my office, it is almost quarter to ten, sipping on my tea, and there is not so a great deal to be done. Yes I have some 'down time' and although I could just put myself to doing a task I do not actually have to do, like designing a new databases, I will just take these fifteen minutes to write. I do feel God's Grace is truly amazing, even though my beliefs have evolved since I last started this blog on request of my dear friend Zach Marr.

Is there anyone out there who is need of prayer, who is perhaps down and out and waiting for something, a job interview, the results of a difficult exam, the outcome of grant or scholarship application? Then please close your eyes, if you will, and pray. I am also praying for you and in sense, I wish I could leave a computer program in this text that says 'If someone reads this and begins to pray; contact Pancho and then let him say the prayer ENDIF, or WHILE they there are still people who need prayer, contact Pancho and let him say the prayer ENDWHILE. Thank goodness no one would ever be able to write such an algorithm and no computer language could implement it, that is telepathic contact with me at the moment your eyes read these words. Only the God would be able to and of course, the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the angles and saints who have done His Will throughout the ages.

So if I were to get to the core of my faith it would center around three things: prayer, fellowship, service, much like the Holy Trinity. I pray because although I find it hard to believe in the supernatural, I feel prayer, that outpouring of the heart, is more than just a sincere wish to influence the cogs of the universe, it is an outpouring of love. Prayer leads to fellowship with other people, fellowship to prayer and that is when I feel Christ's presence. Among people, like my friends or should I say sisters and brothers at the Christian fellowships in Princeton, I feel His prescence. I then believe in the event of the resurrection in so far as I experience God again and again through the people who share the faith with me. In service, like the time I spent volunteering at soup kitchen for orphans and vulnerable children on the north western part of Windhoek yesterday afternoon, I try and distance myself from my anxieties (when will I found out if I got that scholarship? Will I meet the guy of my dreams soon?) and give back to others, even though I know what I give is minimal, it is one step towards bringing the Kingdom of God here on earth (Do I believe in celestial Kingdom that exists metaphysically or physically out there - only in so far as I see the beginnings of it here on earth when I serve with people around me). 

And yet, when I pray I often limit my prayers to my own understanding of what can be prayed for (I never pray for healing outside of the biomedical context). In my fellowship, I am often inhibited by what I perceive to by a conflict between what I believe vis-a-vis my (homo)sexuality and what the group or institution may believe. When I serve I sometimes day dream about my own issues and desires rather than doing the best I can for the person I am serving. Is my faith then imperfect, yes. Is this even a declaration of faith? I guess so. I wrote it as my way of saying this is what I believe, it is not 'everything that is Biblical' or all the teachings of the Catholic Church, it is these three things, prayer, fellowship and service. 

Peace be with you.

prayer for Lent

I think I will go to sleep now. And I will sleep well. On Friday I was praying the sorrowful mysteries and it was soo deep and soo sorrowful. The Rosary, the amount I cried, praying the Rosary, is just incomparable, is incredible.
I think it had much to do with the fact my brother systematically insulted and told me we would never have a normal brother relationship because I am a moffie (faggot), gay.
But later on I felt, even though he did not say it, that he was sorry for he said. He was watching TV and he could of turned up louder, but he did not.
What did I do for him to be so rude? I asked him to stop arguing with a drunken man (a person I doubt he knew) outside our garage and all he said was 'We will lower our voices'. I warned him I would call the cops, he did not care and I did, but then he did care. Luckily the person left, and my brother came in and brought his wrath on me. I called the cops for them not to come. And in that same hallway, my brother really insulted me good.
Praying afterwards helped. I was so grateful to the Lord that I have a brother, that is well and alive, and even though what he said hurt, it would be better than having no brother at all.
My brother told me how in December, on his way back into town from the coast, he was literally seconds away from the being involved in the bloodiest accident of 2011.
Praise the Lord he survived.
We are now on 'normal' speaking terms with him. Everything is ok. Praying the Rosary, so powerful.

Looking for a gate

I remember Gene Robinson, the gay Anglican or (Episcopalean) Bishop, saying that as gay people, we have so long just been sitting at the gate and once we go in we will never be content with standing by the gate ever again. He was addressing the Union Theological Seminary and referring to a passage in the Acts of the Apostoles where the disciples heal this man who is just by the gate of the temple, who was ostracised, according to Gene's reading, and now is part of the community of believers, by entering the temple. 

This morning I went looking for the entrance to a gate that leads to a church. The place was called the Windhoek showgrounds and the His People Church rents out a hall for Sunday worship. The trouble is the main entrance of the showgrounds were closed, as they should be. So I spent almost half an hour running around some shady dirt roads in the complex that led to closed gates or just bushes by a riverbed, a classic scene for  robbery here in Windhoek. Thank goodness nothing happened. 

Eventually, I did go around via the back entrance and greeted the passerby, church goers who were on there way home.

You I always go to Churches, except my Catholic Church, after the sermon. I just go for the mingling, the fellowship, the people. I avoid hearing the sermons, because so many times you hear something at these Churches (by 'these' I mean contemporary Christian evangelical like Churches where you can sing basically the same worship songs like ' this is my daily bread...' all over the world) that is so heterosexist, so assumes you are heterosexual or even worse alienates your gay identity. So I just stopped going. But now, I wonder, is the problem with the Church or is it just me? I love the people, in fact today I went so I could talk to a friend Euan, who is a Scott, doing a technical assistance intership at the ministry of finance. He goes to the Church and he is a really swell dude, I met him from my friend Guillaume who was his roomate before he left to teach French in China. Two Sundays ago. I ran into him just outside his office (he was preparing the speech for the Finance minister on the budget) and I just opened up to him, told him about film 'Skoonheid' (google it!) about how it affected me as a gay man and how I was Christian too. He said something to the effect, 'yeah people should just be who they are , but sometimes Churches do not understand'. I felt a genuine connection with Euan then and I thank the Lord for that. Now this Sunday I wanted to connect with him again, on a deep spiritual level, but I was avoiding the Church service he goes to. Why? Am I keeping myself at the gate? Why do I not go in? There is no-one at the door checking for your sexual orientation as you enter so what is going on?

I saw Euan just as he was leaving, approaching the gate of the showgrounds, which I had finally entered. We chatted for a bit with two of his friends, two girls - one of whom is from Malawi but I did not want to bring up the whole gay persecution thing when we rode back in Euan's car, I mean I had just met her! So he dropped me off at my building, where I work and I said : 'So Euan I would love to catch up with you, we should do dinner sometime, would you like to?"

Euan crossed his arms as stopped the car and looked at me somewhat worried 'What do you mean dinner?"

Oh no, so here I was dressed in a very tight pink shirt and he knows I am gay, asking him out to dinner. So to console him I said: 'friendship dinner'. Relieved he said 'sure, yeaha and we have a braai I will invite you sometime'.

I thanked him and that was it.

I sure hope to meet more of Euan and learn more from him!

Christmas songs in March

I just go these Christmas songs, I actually got the email months ago in my old account (pancho767@hotmail.com) that I never use, and only check sometimes. They are songs sung by my dear friend Zach Marr with his best friend Daniel. He sent them to me two days before Christmas, but I did not open it then (what was I doing? then).

I loved the first song 'Santa Claus is about to expire, because he is so fat he will have a heart attack' or something or the other. I felt humor tingled with sadness hearing this. Well first of all, it is funny and overweight Santa Claus, and more so since I work in the field of public health and I have presented on cardiovascular risk disease profiles (obesity!) of a population here in Namibia. But then also we lost a colleague in South Africa, the esteemed professor Mark Colvin, to a heart attack at the end of January. He was the research leader of the project we are doing to understand the HIV epidemic of Namibia. I would not be sitting in my office here, writing this, before I read up about modes of transmission, were it not for him. 

Zach Marr's voice is so mesmerizing, as wonderful as ever. Who is this other boy Daniel? Is it the tall Daniel from Princeton , programmer, with a Jewish parent, but he choses to practise Christianity? I am not so sure. I think that profile fits many people who have graduated Princeton, but I know which one I am talking about, with his glasses and a friend of Zach and myself.