The blessed and highly favoured gay Catholic?

… For the past 8 years, he goes to a different church on 31st night and on Ash Wednesday.
Since he left this town, he hasn’t been back but for this new work assignment. He drives past the church, his home parish, remembering when he used to tend the fire for the incense during Sunday Mass. How he used to love serving on Sundays as the Cross bearer. And especially that slow march, like he was a soldier taking the president on inspection of a parade at a national event.

He remembered the aroma of Oledy’s koose wafting through the chapel during announcements and how he’d touch his pocket while on the sanctuary to be sure he did not put his koose money into the offering bowl as he displayed his dancing prowess. He even recalled the day he went to fan the fire so Oledy could give him more broken pieces of koose as appreciation. His eyes teared up as he smiled. “I miss all that”, he thought to himself and drove off.

He was turning 35 in 2 weeks. His elder brother had died at 35 when he himself was just 20years old. Yes, they were 15years apart. His parents, after struggling with secondary infertility, finally bore him. They had no more kids after him. Therefore, his brother’s death and his “leaving home” or better still, his death because the fact that his dad had denied him as his son when he came out as gay, meant that his parents had no more kids.

“In 2 weeks I turn 35. My brother died on that same day and I could not attend the funeral because I was not allowed. Perhaps, after 8 years, I can attend mass in the home parish in remembrance of him, mark my birthday and ask for a blessing for my new age, my family although they want nothing to do with me anymore and invite Father to bless the new office my company is moving into. He knew it may not be the most pleasant of experiences but he was willing to try.

Two weeks came. He wore an all white Kaftan and his partner reluctantly joined him. “I don’t think this is a good idea but since you insist on going, I will go with you. Just know that I will not be entering that church with you”.

They drove in silence to the church and got there in time for the procession. He heard that familiar sound again. The sound of the bell signaling the congregation to rise for the procession. The organist struck a chord. The drummer joined in and the tambourines too. He did not know the song but he could tell which choir it was because Oledy’s alto voice always stood out when the Dagaaba choir led the singing at mass.

At the entrance, the usher gave him the familiar “hurry up mass has started look” and stretched his hand with a huge bottle of hand sanitiser to everyone”. He rubbed his palms together and looked for a seat near the window just next to room where Mass servers kept their vestments. He knew that room so well that he could describe it in his sleep. During offering, he gave his money to the lady whose child was hopping around to put in the box so he did not have to go himself. His favourite choral highlife song was sang but he did not get up to dance.

It was time for the sign of peace. He turned to shake his neighbour’s hand but realised everyone was waving. So, he did the same. In the far corner was Mr. Alewa in his smock as usual. That man had ‘cleared” every young lady in the community. He was a firm believer in catch them young. Ante Yaaro was sitting on the first seat of the overflow. He could see her. He recalled the palm oil she sells with chemicals to increase the redness. She always said “that’s what everyone does. It is part of the market”.

He also saw Masu, the guy who made it his personal duty to sweep the chapel every Saturday evening and clean the pews every morning. Even when groups and societies assigned to clean do not show up, You’d find Masu. He was always commended by the priests for his diligence and consistency. And all the youth were advised to learn from him.

Then there was Mama Pat who always shouted “Hallelujah Amen” at Mass even at odd times when nothing warrants that. She always had this angelic look as if she had seen something beyond the earth realm. Her message every time you greeted her was “Heaven is real”. No wonder the Catholic Women society called her “Heavenisreal”.

During communion, the usher got to his pew and he shook his head when it was his turn so she moved to the next pew. If there was one thing that had not changed, it is that second collection had come to stay. He wasn’t surprised when it was announced. And as usual, it was in aid of church building project. However, instead of everyone coming to the front to drop their offering, ushers were to move round with baskets to allow the “second mass” of announcements to go on. He was relieved.

He did not have to walk to the front to be seen by those who knew him. Including Fr. Tim, who baptised him and was there to celebrate the mass that day. The mass servers secretly called him Fr. “Blessed and highly favoured”. If you asked him for a prayer, he would always start with “my son/daughter. You are blessed and highly favoured”. Father was the priest everyone loved. His homilies were always lively and animated. He even remembered some of them especially the ones that included him in the props as an Altar boy.

There was also that young man who used to be a seminarian the last time before he stopped coming to mass. He was now a priest and looked graceful in his cassock. The secretary invited the church president to share some important information. “Not much has changed in 8 years”, he thought to himself. As the congregation clapped, a thick tall man with a huge backside, climbed the sanctuary. He knew who this was. `”Obolo Tui” was how we called him back then`. He used to be a lector in those days and sang with the youth choir. “Well, I am not surprised. He was one of the very few active ones among the youth. This position fits him”.

Gradually the mass came to an end. The people rushed out as usual as if they couldn’t wait for it to end that whole time. Someone spotted him. It was the boy he mentored into the mass servers ministry. They looked at each other but the boy looked away almost immediately. He saw Catechist too. That man never grows old. But he too would not say hi.

Then, a lady waved at him from afar and run to give him a hug. It was Imelda. Her mother is the caterer who cooks for every church event. She run to him and gave him a hug. “Eeeii you, you have been missing in action for centuries”. As dramatic as Imelda is, he knew she was going to draw attention to him if he did not find an excuse. She took out her phone and immediately took a million selfies with him. And posted some of them right away on her status. “I have to speak to Father before people hijack him. You know how it always is after mass”. So, she let him go.

He walked to the entrance of the sacristy and saw Mr. Joy, the elderly man with the “contagious laughter”. He tried to shake his hand but he replied. “I no longer shake hands because of COVID but how have you been? Since you decided to go after men, I hope you are not wearing diapers under that nice outfit. Repent oo and stop that life”.

He expected this but perhaps not from Mr. Contagious. Just then Fr Tim walked out. He wondered, “what might have brought this young man to church today. Had he changed and decided to rededicate his life to Christ? That would have been the best news”. Of course, not daring to say that out loud. Besides, he was the priest. He began to speak to Father about why he had come.

His partner entered the chapel, spotted him with Fr. And walked to them. He had said he wouldn’t enter but the khebab seller had started selling and the smoke literally drove him from his spot. Since mass was over, he decided it was a good time to come in.

He wished his family were there to stand with him as Catholics usually do when a friend or family was going for a blessing. He looked over his shoulder and saw his partner, as if he knew he needed family at that time. But well, “he is my family. My only family left”. Fr. stood still for a second.

Those who knew him and the life he now lived wondered, “what would this prayer mean? Is it an endorsement of his chosen path? And with this guy standing with him, is it a blessing of their union? And yes, even Mr. Alewa who had just booked a hotel room for his “meeting” with the choir secretary later that evening thought “surely, this guy does not deserve that prayer”.

What do you think? Does he “deserve” this prayer? Can he too still be referred to as “my son, you are blessed and highly favoured” by Fr. Tim?

Disclaimer: this is all fictional. Any name or character that seems familiar is just a coincidence.