You guys are fond of stories, no? I will tell you one anyways.
A time. I was done watching all the lesbian movies (all ten of them) and I was being driven insane by the unholy urge to do the nasty. This is an urge that can make women lose their birthright, with the exception of yours truly. Right. After purchasing plaid shirts, spotting funny hairstyles, smiling at random women on the streets, (I could go on) came my element of surprise. The Kenyan lesbian Venn Diagram is complicated and admittedly, I was terribly naïve. And thus came the period where I thought I was the only queer person in this country, or what I like to call my most depressing years on this cold earth. FYI, the whole lesbian movies cliché route will not work in this country. I just figured I should leave that fact here to lock it forever in words for the rest of naïve generations to come.
Picture it: you are in the communal laundry room in your flat and you realize you don’t have loose change for the chocolate dispenser. Without even going further with this story, we all know you hand wash your laundry, or mama safi does it for you now don’t we? Besides, how many flats have communal laundry rooms here or chocolate dispensers for that matter? I am just saying that chances of having damsel in distress scenarios and getting saved by another drop dead gorgeous damsel are slim to none in this country.
So maybe you ought to follow my modus operandi.
I created a crafty email account followed by an equally crafty Facebook account. Thing with Facebook unlike its radical twin sister Twitter is that you are allowed to have strange names such as ‘thevampiricallesbian’ or ‘LesboSuccubus’ or anything really. Facebookers give you space for these abnormal behaviors. My Facebook name therefore fell on those lines. It was unbelievably embarrassing so I will just spare myself this searing shame and get into the hunt.
Which one of you fellas haven’t heard of Denis Nzioka? Hand over your cave person combinations card if you haven’t. I should formally introduce him. He is here @DenisNzioka and here denisnzioka.co.ke and Denis Nzioka on Facebook. Me thinks he is the most amazing-looking man I know. Not many men can pull off his look. His features are beautifully handsome. Beautiful smile, his eyes like stars shining in the dark, his tender mouth…I didn’t mean to confess my love for him but I guess I just did. It is through Denis (albeit virtually) that I got to meet the LGBTI community. So that would be your first tip. He knows all important gay aspects and everybody loves Denis! My relentless adoration of him meant that he accepted me as a friend and hence I got a chance to see all his friends, (and followed all 5000 of them duuh) especially the women (and they are many) who in return, followed back! I was in heaven, Praise God.
Where do the lesbians meet? This is a question that will take us back to Facebook. I might as well get paid for marketing Facebook on here. I realized that most lesbian groups are found there. Search and you will find. There are women dedicated to making our lives happy. They put up notifications for picnics, visiting the underprivileged, house parties, road trips..anything! If you’re interested in such, there is always a person you can get in touch with. Follow organizations that support the LGBTIAQ in Kenya while at it; UHAI-EASHRI, Minority Women in Action, Gay Kenya, , GALCK, Kaleidoscope Trust, they are many. This way, you will be able to follow any upcoming events organized by these organizations.
Well, I was armed with gazillion followers and with a history of no sex and unholy thirst, this became a very unfamiliar territory. What are you thinking? Facebook would ask. Here, I developed my new specialty. I would post and comment on other posts like I was getting paid. For real, I would have owned an oil well in Lamu by now dear reader. I asked questions and was really interested in what was going on in other people’s lives. And as befits someone who is permanently horny, I would post random posts and say I was actually horny. To my complete astonishment, women liked that vibe. Like I minded! I think it is the hysterics I used on there, or the women were naturally good-natured. And yes I flirted a lot. That helped too.
So there, I worked with what I had and it worked, by the way. Facebook is not as bad as they tell you it is Yo. I have to state here again that in Facebook, just like any other social network, you have to learn to keep your horny side to yourself because getting to know people takes time. You don’t want to be that woman who gets lured into some pit that people suck humans dry; You will need to pray for loads of patience. And another thing- this is how I met my first girlfriend. I could count my sexual partners in less than one hand, in fact three fingers. But I can say one thing for sure; Facebook is where the lesbians are at.
Gay clubs. I hate to be the one to break this one to you but there are no exclusive gay clubs in Nairobi. It is a hard life out here. Just be courteous and have good mannerisms and you can drink anywhere. Except iclub, (formerly Tacos). I have witnessed a case where a friend could not be let in the club because the bouncers were feeling too hot for her revolutionary hair cut. Wankers! In fact, most gays have boycotted this club altogether.
It takes ages before I venture out of my secret hideout which is my bedroom. I’d rather ignite my hair than go clubbing. Given the option of hanging out in an actual club and dance the night away or hang out in my bedroom in my knee length tees together with my wolly socks, I would choose the latter. I know. I know. Okay? So I asked my very good friend Fifi to let me in on the names of these clubs. She happens to be extremely blasé this one. There is Envy, Gypsies, Sevens and Frankies. Hello Fifi, you are now famous! Naturally, I wouldn’t know the location of these clubs so I hope you’ll get in on the search dear readers.
Splendid. Now you know of two things that actually work. What do I wish I knew at eighteen? That I didn’t have to feel so alone. Or lesbian penpals for God’s sake; anything to compare my life with others. But how could I choose who I wanted to be if I didn’t have anyone to compare it to? I can’t even remember my teenage years so well. They were so blurry and full of self-pity. I did not know for instance, that I didn’t have to read yet another copy of Sweet Valley High Novel in high school just to fit in. Quite frankly, I found those books boring as fuck. But I remember reading James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room. And re-reading it and re-reading it and crying because it aroused a compelling craving in me. I could feel myself in its pages but I was something my peers weren’t. Those depressing years lasted well enough.
Phew. But I am here now, aren’t I? Pursue your own happiness is all. Most importantly, you don’t have to feel so alone. It is an unfalteringly horrid experience. Also, work with what you have, no woman will be presented to you with every bell and whistle imaginable. You deserve to be happy, darling.