The bedrock of my life

This is a quick post to say, I have returned to blogging. For a very long period of time, in fact three quarters of a this year 2014, I did not even lay my eyes on this piece of cyberspace. Now, here I am blogging.

There are just two things I want to write about. First, I need to acknowledge how much I have engaged in self-loathing for much of the year. I did not accept myself as me, as Pancho, who is now single, gay, eccentric in so many ways. I felt that since I was single here in grad school, it must be that somehow there was something wrong with me. Now, I finally have come to understand I am a perfectly fine as a gay man, though I am different to so many of them, I am fine as a Catholic too and as a student as well. One day I will meet my beau and there will be sparks that will set my love alight. Till then, I just need to keep on praying and believing. As the journey song goes 'don't stop believin'. I remember clearly singing that in 2009, with my graduating class, on Blair arch steps in Princeton. Now I remember and it is so grand. Fills me with so much love.

The next thing is to remember is how a good meal is the bedrock of my day. It allows me to move from there to planning my day , in the morning, to doing my exercise, which I combine with prayer and all that I need in the day. And when the day is done, dinner brings me back to life. Need I not mention the fact I pray before I eat and the intimate connections I make with those who share meals with me.
I have become accustomed to reading and eating. Often, great ideas come to mind, but often it is just superfluous reading. I rather eat with someone else.

So here I am, after dinner, writing in my blog. Before dinner I felt so stressed, but now I feel renewed. Listening to that Journey song cover by "the Nerds", a present for my birthday in 2008 (I turned 22) in Princeton really helped me feel better.

Thank you Lord. I pray I can still keep this good feeling. When I feel sad, I will remember this.

Pancho

Christmas day,

Christmas day,
The biggest lesson I learnt today has been a deeper understanding into the story of Martha and Mary at Jesus' feet. I am now at my father's house with my younger brother. My dad's place is a house that is often dirty and this time my dad complained he found the kitchen really messy and a maggot infested dustbin, in spite of giving the key and the perks that come with having a house to oneself, to my 21 year old brother. My dad did his best cleaning, but unfortunately some things never change. "There is meat in the pot, just go ahead and warm it up" . And I proceeded to the kitchen, warmed the meat in the pot only to find a fly swimming in the stew. Closer inspection revealed the tell tale white clump of fly eggs just under the lid. So instead of preparing a meal I had to get ready to dispose of this meat, or at least save it for the dog. There was also a huge piece of pork in the microwave and dirty dishes in the sink (with the same tell tale eggs, flies in summer love kitchens in the Namibia summer). I ended up cleaning up. All the while my brother is watching Bob Marley videos and looking through my dad's old photos from our family life and his work trips in the 90s and his time in Bulgaria in the 70-80s. Ours is not a fairy tale, marriages happen and end, homes are build and they fall apart. Now my brother and I spend time with our parents at different occasions and thereby build two new home setups, though we live with our mom. So here my brother was being Mary Magdalen at Jesus' feet, while I was Marta, busy cleaning the kitchen.
I wanted to just drop everything and join in what they were doing but then I realizes the kitchen does need cleaning. The pictures and Bob Marley DVDs will not evaporate. I now realize when Jesus tells Marta that she should leave Mary alone because she chose the good part, he did not mean what Marta was doing was wrong. On the contrary it is good, the only thing is that Mary chose to spend quality time instead of fuss over the worldly things and that Mary's choice is just valid as Marta's and perhaps is more appropriate given Jesus' impending crucifixion.
My brother actually read this post and he asked "why am I Mary of Magdalene and why is Pancho Marta?"
He clearly does not know the story of Mary and Marta, one which my dad referred to as a long story and not one he would go into now, he preferred to share funny west african movie clips with my brother.
So go ahead and read the story of Mary and Martha of this is foreign to you.



Pancho

Holy Saturday 2013

Here I sit and write this as I wait for my shoushi at th
Falling in love with Jesus
Enamorarse de Jesúcristo
Tomorrow is easter in the Catholic Church.
I truly believe I will have to write about how I feel now. How do I feel about Jesus Christ? Do I still believe the only acceptable sexual fantasy is being with Him? I had a conversation about this already years in 2007ago with my friend Zach Marr and it seems he said he also agreed with me. Somehow last night i ended up bringing myself from 0 to 60 in just under a minute after I read through the EXIT a gay man's newspaper and it is not much different to the FHM for straight men and the feeling afterwards. I had my pink rosary in one hand ( and touching my body with the other) and somewhat desperately I asked the Lord to help me to stop, my heart was racing and then the point of no return. The guilt , the feeling of guilt and then the forgiveness that came after In read Psalm 32. I am grateful for the privilege of having this tension in my faith, this is indication that my basic essential needs are met and so I can dedicate mental energy to this process of spiritual self discovery.


Pancho

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.