Major Characters
Emeka: The confident leader. He's the life of the party and excels at charming everyone. However, he secretly seeks intimacy with men to explore vulnerability he doesn't show in his everyday life.
Tunde: The nerdy, reserved one. Always with his nose in a book or working on his latest tech project, Tunde's secret life gives him an escape from his insecurities.
Mustafa: The athletic jock. On the football team and beloved by women, Mustafa struggles with societal expectations about masculinity and fears losing his reputation.
Ejiro: The artistic dreamer. A painter and musician, Ejiro often writes love songs he claims are about women but secretly reflect his longing for men.
Early Life: The Beginnings
My name is Emeka. I come from an average Igbo home, with a dad who is a banker and a mum who owns a food restaurant. I have two younger brothers.
We live in a sub-hub of Lagos, and this is our story - mine and my friends'. I grew up in a particularly strict Catholic family. Our father was a banker, but he was also a very strict man. We were not allowed to go outside or play with other children. We were always locked indoors because we were mostly boys, and as the first son, I had to find ways around everything. Though we were mostly obedient, you know how boys can be - we sometimes found ways to do certain things.
When I was 13 years old, I noticed changes in my body. I also noticed some extraordinary feelings about myself that I knew then were going to be a problem. I loved sports, especially football, and since primary school, I had always been selected as a leader. This brought joy, happiness, and awards to my family. I saw it as God's blessing for me. But then, I still had my dark side, which I had to protect.
At 13, I began to notice that I liked boys, but I didn't know how to express it. I didn't know how to go about it or even understand the feelings I had. It felt strange to me. I had always known that such things were supposed to be between a guy and a lady. But as it was happening to me, I couldn't discuss it with my younger brothers - they were too young to understand. My father wasn't approachable, and my mum, a hardworking woman, was too strict for me to confide in.
Not long after, my mother's younger sister moved in with us. She was the last-born from my mother's side, and my mum was much older than her. At 19, my aunt was waiting to gain admission into the university, so she decided to spend some time with us. With her around, life became a bit easier - we weren't locked inside the house as much.
Around the same time, a young man named Isaac Uzo moved into one of the downstairs apartments in our building. The house had six different apartments: four three-bedroom apartments upstairs and two two-bedroom apartments downstairs. Most of the families in the house had children, but none were my age. My brothers had playmates, but I didn't, so I decided to make myself useful to Isaac.
Isaac, whom I called "Brother Uzo," was probably in his late 20s. He was a young man with a new job and had recently gotten his own apartment. He worked at a bank close to our house, though not the same one as my dad. When he moved in, I had just turned 15, and my aunt Angela, who was as beautiful as my mum, was living with us.
Uzo had trouble fitting into the compound. He left for work very early and returned late at night. His apartment had water issues before he moved in, which made the rent cheaper, but it meant he needed someone to fetch water for him and fill his drums. I took it upon myself to help him, partly because I wanted to be useful outside my own house. Everyone was proud of me for being so helpful, and Uzo appreciated it too, often buying me small treats.
But only I knew what was truly in my mind. I realized I was attracted to Brother Uzo. Yet how could a young boy like me confess such feelings?
I made myself useful by ensuring there was always water in Uzo's house. He trusted me so much that he gave me a spare key. In the mornings, after he left early for work, I would finish my house chores, fill his drums with water, and clean his apartment before going to school. When I returned from school, I'd check his apartment to see if there was any unfinished work.
Because he was a banker, Uzo had a grueling schedule. He left the house by 6:00 a.m. and wouldn't return until around 7:00 p.m. or later. It didn't seem like an easy life for a young man, but he was a role model I admired. My father was there for me, of course, but as a young boy, I found myself more drawn to Uzo - a younger man, just a little older than me - because I wanted to learn so much from him.
During the holidays, when I didn't have to go to school, I was always at Uzo's house. I watched how he polished his shoes, buckled his belt, tucked in his shirt, and dressed up. I learned a lot of "boy stuff" from him. He even pointed out to me that, as I turned 15, the hairs under my armpits were increasing and making me smell more. He taught me to use a shaving stick to remove them. Uzo practically groomed me into a young man, and everything he taught me, I passed on to my brothers. This made them love me even more, as I became a role model to them, just as Uzo was to me.
Everything seemed to be going well.
Sometimes, though, things got strange. I wasn't sure if Uzo did it intentionally or if it was by mistake, but whenever I was in his apartment - maybe sitting in the living room or playing games on his phone while he was on the bed - he would go into the shower and come out naked, without bothering to cover himself. Normally, this would be just "man stuff," not meant to mean anything. But because of the strange feelings I was having, I started feeling awkward.
One time, I saw him fully erect. I didn't know what to do. I was shy and tried to cover my face, but he laughed at me.
"Am I not a boy? We have the same thing; there's nothing to be ashamed of," he said.
He was right. I was definitely a boy. But I wasn't the type of boy he thought I was. I knew I was different. I knew I was... special.
One day, I did something I never imagined I would do. As Uzo came out of the bathroom and walked toward his wardrobe, I stood there, watching him. Then, I took off my clothes and entered the bathroom to bathe. I had never bathed in his apartment before, but I did that day. When I came out, I was naked, hoping he would say something. He didn't. He just continued what he was doing. I put on my clothes and went to sit in the parlor.
Oddly, I began to feel a little more manly after that. I even went out to play football with the other boys. When I returned, I checked on Uzo and made sure I'd done all his chores.
A year later, when I was about to turn 17, Uzo started inquiring about my aunt, Angela. He began asking if she was married or single. I felt jealous. I had always been there for him, doing everything he needed, yet he was asking about Angela.
I stopped giving him information about her and told him to ask her himself. I didn't realize this annoyed him. He had a friend who lived two blocks away and would visit him on weekends. They were about the same age, both young and good-looking.
One evening, I was in Uzo's sitting room watching football on his television when he came out.
Uzo: "Emeka, is Angela in?"
Me: "Maybe she's in, I don't really know. Why not call her and check if she's in?"
Uzo: "This boy, things don't work that way. If you want to win a girl over, you need to be slow and steady. You need to approach things from behind, not attack directly. Why don't you have those small, small secondary school girls that you're after?"
Me: "I'm not after anyone. I'm just on my own. I don't need stress. Girls give stress and trouble. Besides, I'm focused on my education right now, not on chasing girls."
Uzo: "Ah, serious guy. So, whenever you're by yourself and that thing is standing, who do you think about?"
Me: "It's reflex action. Must I be thinking about anyone for it to stand?"
Uzo: "Come, this boy, don't turn into one of those homo people. They're everywhere now. Don't be one of them, sha. It's not nice."
Me: "What is 'homo people'?"
Uzo: "It's gay. You don't know the meaning of gay?"
Me: "What is gay?"
Uzo: "Gay is when two men are naked on the bed, doing what a man and a woman are supposed to do."
Me: "Is hugging each other gay?"
Uzo: "It's not. That's different. But if it happens on a bed…"
Me: "That means I'm never going to hug you."
Uzo: "Hug me? What will you gain from hugging me? Go and hug your Angela. If you hug Angela like this, your life will change."
Me: "I've known her since I was a child. There's nothing about her that's going to change my life."
Uzo: "Don't worry, you'll soon understand."
Before he could finish talking, Auntie Angela entered the apartment without even knocking. She didn't look surprised to see us or anything. She just hugged him right in front of me and told me to go upstairs. As I was leaving, she locked the door behind me, and I could hear them giggling.
I remembered seeing him bring in two packs of condoms not long ago. Now I understood what they were up to. I felt so angry that I left and went upstairs to be with my brothers. When I came down later that night, Angela was still in his apartment. She left shortly afterward.
For days, I tried not to mind what was going on. I was wise enough to understand that adults do these things. It's common to see young men and women having fun in our world today.
About two months later, I was cleaning Uzo's apartment when his friend came in. I overheard them talking about how sweet Angela was. I was shocked. I had thought Uzo was the only one sleeping with her, but it turned out his friend was, too. Angela didn't know that they both knew what she was doing. To her, she was playing them both, but they were aware.
I decided not to get involved. I kept quiet and minded my own business, knowing there was no way for me to have anything with Uzo.
Sometimes on Fridays, I would sleep in his apartment because it was the only place I could stay up all night watching movies. That would never be allowed in my father's house.
One night, while I was watching a movie, I suddenly heard Uzo moaning in his room. I was surprised and curious, so I walked to his room door, which was slightly open. Without him noticing, I peeked inside.
I saw him applying oil on his penis while watching porn on his phone. He was using his hand to stroke himself. I was so surprised and intrigued by what I was seeing. It was the first time I realized it was possible to use your hand on yourself. I had never watched porn before, but there he was.
He moved around on the bed, getting more aroused by the video. At one point, he used his other hand to pinch his nipples. I didn't fully understand what was happening, but I found myself imitating him. I brought out my own penis, spat on my hands since I didn't have oil, and joined him.
I wasn't looking at the porn on his phone - it was too far - but I was watching him. He was my "live video."
I'm sure he wouldn't have noticed me if I hadn't given myself away by making noises. I was panting and moaning softly. It was my first time masturbating, and the intense sensation overwhelmed me. I could feel energy surging from my legs to my penis. Suddenly, everything built up and released in a rush. I ejaculated with such force that it landed on Uzo's body on the bed.
When I was done, I felt shocked and ashamed. Uzo, too, had just finished and was looking at me. He reached for an old singlet and threw it at me. I quickly used it to clean myself and wiped the floor where my semen had landed. I went to the bed and attempted to clean the mess on his body, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me closer.
For the first time, someone touched me in a way I'd never been touched before. He hugged me tightly. I was unsure of what to do, but eventually, I leaned in and kissed him. He seemed shocked at first but then kissed me back.
We kissed for a long time. Then he started doing things to me. He sucked on my nipples, kissed my body, and performed oral sex on me. I did the same to him, and he ejaculated in my mouth. He told me to spit it out.
That night, I felt a deep connection to him. After everything, I hugged him tightly.
The next morning, we woke up late. I looked at him, and he looked back at me. I didn't know what was going through his mind, but I knew I had fallen in love with him.
From that day on, my life changed. I was always happy - eager to see him after school and after his work. I worked twice as hard to do all his chores. He, however, seemed silent and unsure. It was as if he was doubting himself or didn't feel particularly happy.
But I didn't mind. I was just a teenage boy, chasing fun and feeling alive.
What happened between Uzo and me occurred at least four more times. There was never penetration or any extreme sexual activity - just the usual romance and BJ. Yet, he continued sleeping with my Auntie Angela, which made me jealous.
One Saturday morning, I woke up naked, lying on his body. Instead of greeting him with the usual "good morning," I just sat up and stared out the window.
Uzo: "What's wrong?"
Me: "Nothing."
Uzo: "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Me: "No… it's just - I don't know why I'm jealous."
Uzo: "Jealous? Of who?"
Me: "You still shag my aunt on this bed."
He sighed deeply.
Uzo: "Come on, you're a boy. She's a woman. I might marry her someday; she'll have kids. I can't marry you."
I moved closer to him with my lanky, slim teenage body and fell onto his chest, kissing his neck.
Me: "But it's not fair. I feel like it's not right - sharing the same person with a family member."
He gently pushed me back.
Uzo: "So, what are you trying to say? That I should choose you over her? We're not even doing the real thing. I can't even do that. Look, man, I think we need to stop doing this. You're a big boy. Go to school, find yourself a nice, young girl your age, and make a good woman out of her. Let me focus on my life - on your auntie. Maybe I'll marry her.
"I'm very sorry we even started this. I've been thinking about how to stop it without hurting you."
Me: "Don't worry. I won't be jealous again. I don't want to stop doing this with you."
Uzo: "Stop, stop. You don't understand. This isn't just about you; it's about me too. I have my life to think of. Look, I have another girlfriend - she says she's expecting a baby from me. But I can't marry her; she's from Calabar, and my family would never accept her.
"And here I am, doing this with you and also with your aunt. Omo, what is wrong with me? Something is definitely wrong with me."
He stood up abruptly and walked into the bathroom without saying another word.
I sat there feeling rejected. Eventually, I got up, cleaned myself, dressed, tidied up his apartment, and prepared enough water for him for the weekend.
That Sunday, I didn't go to his apartment as I usually did. I stayed upstairs with my brothers instead, who were happy to have me around. It was one of the rare Sundays I spent with them, as I was usually away downstairs.
When Monday came, I went to his apartment to do my chores. To my surprise, my key could no longer open the door. I tried forcing it, but it was firmly locked. Anger swelled within me. Had he changed the lock on me?
I went to school frustrated. When I returned that evening, I tried again, but the door still wouldn't budge. So, I sat outside, waiting for him. When he finally arrived, he didn't even look at me. He opened the door with a new key, and when I tried to follow him inside, he pushed the door shut and locked me out.
I called out to him several times, but he didn't respond. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I left without saying anything. Deep down, I knew it was his way of saying goodbye.
A few months passed. As I prepared to enter SS3, I saw Uzo sitting outside his apartment one public holiday. I didn't say anything to him. I just walked up, gave him a spare key he had once given me, and left.
Shortly afterward, something happened that changed everything.
One day after school, I came home to find my father unusually seated in the living room with my mother. My brothers and I greeted them and went to change out of our school uniforms.
About ten minutes later, my father called us back. Auntie Angela stood nearby, glaring at me with disgust.
Mama Emeka: "Ahhh, Emeka, am I a bad mother?"
Me: "Mama, what do you mean? I don't understand."
Before I could say more, my father slapped me - once, twice, three times. The slaps alternated between his hands, each one harder than the last, until I lost count and fell to the ground.
Even after that, he grabbed a long cane and began flogging me mercilessly. My brothers tried to intervene, but they were no match for his strength.
Me: "Papa, please! What did I do? Mama, help me! Please!"
I begged and cried, but no one came to my rescue. After what felt like an eternity, I crawled into a corner and sobbed uncontrollably. My brothers stayed with me, trying to comfort me.
Later that evening, my mother found me.
Mama Emeka: "Who taught you to be gay?"
Me: "Mama, I don't understand. What do you mean?"
Mama Emeka: "Shut your dirty mouth, idiot! Useless boy!"
Before I could respond, Auntie Angela stormed in.
Angela: "Shut up! Uzo told us how you've been trying to lure him into sleeping with you. That's why he changed his house key!"
Me: "But wait - you didn't even ask me. Nobody asked me what happened!"
Papa Emeka: "Will you shut your dirty mouth, you idiot? I've called my cousin who's in the army. First thing tomorrow morning, you'll be on the first bus to Abuja. From Abuja, you're heading straight to Kaduna. You'll attend a military secondary school there. That's where you'll graduate and write your WAEC exam. They'll treat you like a human being, and maybe by the time you come back, you'll be a boy - not… whatever you've become. I'm ashamed of you!"
No one gave me a chance to explain. No one let me speak. My father's word was final, and that was it.
That night, I didn't even bother to pack. I thought it was all a joke. But at 5:00 a.m., I realized it wasn't. I was given nothing but the clothes I had on - still stinking because I hadn't bathed the night before. My father dragged me to the bus station and put me on a bus. No one escorted me.
The entire day, I sat in silence, watching the road stretch endlessly ahead. I had been given some money to buy food, but I couldn't bring myself to eat. The reality of what was happening hadn't fully sunk in. I kept thinking this was some kind of dream I would wake up from.
At 10:00 p.m. that night, we arrived in Abuja. My father's brother was already waiting for me at the park. He didn't even take me home to meet his family or let me refresh myself. The only thing I had with me was my school bag, filled with books.
That night, he took me straight to the train station. We waited there for the 11:00 p.m. train. When the train finally arrived, he handed me a ticket without saying much. Not even a word of welcome or comfort. He just left me in the train.
I had no idea where I was going or who I was supposed to meet. The train ride to Kaduna was long and silent. At about 1:15 a.m., we arrived. The train stopped, and everyone disembarked. I got off and found myself alone in a strange city. I sat at the waiting area, confused and lost.
By 6:00 a.m., the morning train was preparing to leave, carrying people commuting to Abuja. I watched people rush past me, boarding the train. I didn't know what to do or where to go. My uncle hadn't given me any specific instructions.
I started to question everything. Had I done something so terrible to deserve this? Was it my fault? Who had snitched? Had Uzo's friend exaggerated or lied about what happened? My mind spiraled with thoughts.
I hadn't eaten in 24 hours. Hunger gnawed at me, so I used a bit of the money I had left to buy a packet of biscuits. After finishing it, I sat in the shade, exhaustion creeping over me.
Just as I was about to doze off under the rising heat of the morning sun, a tall, lanky soldier walked up to me. His head was clean-shaven, save for a neatly groomed mustache hanging beneath his nose.
Sgt. Auwal: "Are you Emeka, fa?"
He asked, his voice firm but not unkind.
Me: "Yes, I am."
Sgt. Auwal: "I am your father's friend, fa. Follow me."
There was no need to ask questions - the man wasn't smiling, and his face was stern and unapproachable. I followed him silently into the military van, where five other soldiers were already standing at the back. I climbed in and joined them, my heart heavy. It was the first time I had stood in such a vehicle.
They were all dressed in neat uniforms, and as the hot morning sun rose, we drove for about four hours. Eventually, we arrived at a large school. At first glance, it looked like a military barrack, but it was a boys' school.
As I stepped out of the van, feeling like a prisoner, Sergeant Auwal called over a senior boy to take me in. They gave me food and water, and I thought I might finally get some time to rest. But no. I was immediately instructed to join the other boys on the field.
They were running drills, and I was told to run the field fifty times. That was when my new life began. That was when I realized I had entered a completely different world.
The next day, I woke up from the bare bunk assigned to me. I had no bedding, but I didn't complain. That morning, I was handed a bag filled with clothes - casual wear, uniforms, undergarments, everything I needed to live there. It felt surreal.
I asked one of the soldiers if my father had bought these things for me, but he shook his head. He told me that my father had given them enough money to provide for me, though they knew very little about why I had been sent there. The only thing they were told was that I was a "bad boy" who needed strict military discipline.
I didn't argue. I didn't ask questions. I knew they had no idea what had actually happened.
I also learned I would have to restart from SS2, even though I had been in WAEC class back home. It was a blow, but I didn't fight it. I focused on finding a way to adapt to this new life.
It was in that place that I met Mustafa.
Morals of the Story:
Do not start something you cannot finish.
Leaving someone mid-journey, especially in sensitive situations, can break their trust - not just in you, but in everyone else. It can also lead to mental health struggles that linger for years.
Always listen before you judge.
Before giving a child or anyone a harsh punishment, no matter what you've been told, take the time to hear their side of the story. Even in lies, there might be some truth worth uncovering.
Guide, don't mislead.
If you're a young man and a teenage boy looks up to you, see it as an opportunity to mentor them. Teach them about life, discipline, and manhood. But never, under any circumstances, exploit their vulnerability - especially sexually. A child's brain is still developing, and they're not equipped to process such actions responsibly.
Respect yourself and others.
No matter the situation, practice restraint and self-respect. Set boundaries for yourself and others, especially when dealing with minors or vulnerable individuals.
By Whitman Michael
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