Just another Poor Gayboy

Part 1:

When spiders unite, they can tie down a lion. Ethiopian saying.

Chapter One

(Batho, Bloemfontein; South Africa; July 2011)

He stood in the dark under a small thorn tree and watched as the people walked by; all on their way home. He wasn’t interested in them, only in Ralph Matsimela, the twenty-something gay guy from Roma in the Kingdom of Lesotho. He knew what Ralph looked like because Ralph sent him a few pictures through the message link on Facebook. This would not be his first murder, but it was the first murder in his personal cleansing. The others were on demand and he received money for it; it made him a wealthy man. This was a clean-up of his existence, his bloodline if you wish; his own personal ethnic cleansing operation. He was cleaning up his family and everybody his family contaminated.

At 19H15 there was still no sign of Ralph and he wondered why the guy was late; he normally passed that point before 18H30. He did his homework over the last few months and made sure he knew everything about Ralph’s program. The fact that Ralph was late worried him, but not too much. Then he saw the taxi that Ralph normally took and he relaxed totally. This is going to be so much fun, he thought.

When Ralph passed he did not see the man hiding behind the trees; he also did not see that someone followed him from that spot onwards. Ralph’s mind was far from the dirt road he lived in. He thought about Roma, the place where he grew up. Roma was so much better than this godforsaken place he now called home. Roma had mountains to climb and rivers to swim in, but this place was only a dirt road with corrugated iron-houses as far as you could see. Roma had a soul; this place was dead. He really missed his hometown, but there was no work for him and that is why he decided to come to this place. The other reason was the Lesotho government’s polity on homosexuality; he had to move.

At last Ralph was in front of his own dilapidated house and he opened the door, but before he could close the door behind him something pushed him into his house and someone else closed the door. He lay there on the ground for a few minutes before he could get up and when he did he felt the cold steel of a very sharp knife under his throat.

You said I should look you up when I am in the area, so here I am, said Spider.

Who are you? asked Ralph.

I am Spider, your Facebook friend. Don’t you recognize me? Or do you have so many boyfriends that you can’t remember me. You guys are all the same. You screw around with so many that you can’t even recall their names or their faces. That is why you all should die; there is no place for you except in a graveyard; preferably in a mass grave.

Of course I know you. Why would you think that I would screw around? I am not like that and you know it. We have talked about it. Why are you carrying a knife? You know how I feel about you. I have never connected with anybody like I did with you. You know that, said Ralph with tears in his voice.

You are right about one thing old Ralphy. You will never connect with anybody again.

And with that he cut the boy’s throat. Then he took the knife and he neatly cut out a flower on the boy’s leg, a flower with a crown right above it. It was the sign of the beast he wished to kill.

Chapter Two

Although the fire burned as hot as it could, Guy added more charcoal to it. Measured in international degrees Celsius it wasn’t that cold outside, only minus 3, but South African houses weren’t built with double glass, airtight windows or central heating. Minus 3 outside could easily mean close to zero inside. Guy went back to his computer satisfied that he tried to do something about the cold, not that it made any difference to the actual temperature. He connected to the internet and went straight to his banking site. There were still a hundred thousand Rand more than he expected. He couldn’t understand the balance, he saw the amount that was paid in, but he didn’t know where it came from.

Guy answered the phone with his usual bark: Matisse

Guy, did you receive the money?

Who is this? asked Guy.

My name is John and I have paid a hundred thousand into your account.

Guy’s first thought wasn’t very positive. If you know about the Nigerian scam, where someone banks an amount into your account just to steal more than that back, you would also smell a rat.

Yes John, and why would you do that?

See it as a down payment on a job I want you to do.

Can you be more specific? asked Guy.

Another poor gay boy was murdered yesterday and I want you and your team to investigate the murder.

Would you like to make an appointment? This is hardly the way we do things, said Guy.

I guessed as much, but I am also paying for the luxury to stay anonymous. The boy was murdered in his shack in the township of Batho. Would you be willing to look into the case?

That is what we do John, but your request is still highly irregular. What is your connection to the victim?

My interest is not your concern. I just want to know whether you are willing to look into it.

Okay, I will be frank. I do not like the way you are doing this, but if there really is a murdered gay boy involved we will do it. Do you have anything more than that? I mean Batho has thousands of shacks and murder is hardly something new in that part of town.

The boy’s name is Ralph Matsimela and he is from Roma, in Lesotho. He is a student at the University of the Free State. I will pay more if it is necessary.

A hundred thousand is much more than we have ever charged for any investigation. I doubt that it would not be far too much. May I ask why you didn’t contact the police?

We are talking about a black, gay, and poor student from Lesotho. The police wouldn’t be interested.

That is a bit harsh don’t you think? The police takes all murders serious John.

They aren’t serious about this one. That is why I contacted you. I just have one other request.

And that would be?

I do not exist. I never phoned you. Forget that you have ever spoken to me. I am just a concerned gay citizen. Do you get that?

Yes, I do.

The caller disconnected. Guy stood up and went back to the fire. It was still damn cold, but Guy had a warm feeling in his heart. A concerned gay citizen willing to pay a hundred thousand for justice; so there still are people who give a damn. What a unique experience.

Chapter Three

Guy came into the office looking like a bullfighter who has just been impaled. He was red in the face and Thomas thought he was seriously ill.

What is the matter? Thomas asked.

I went to the police to see if they could tell us anything more about the murder.

And?

The policeman laughed, said Guy.

I am not with you. What do you mean he laughed?

He looked at me, and laughed Thomas. Then he told me that they were currently busy with more serious crimes and that they would probably start with the investigation in a month’s time.

Thomas frowned and said: What? Are you serious? How do they expect to catch the killer if they wait for a month?

Guy looked up at Thomas and Thomas could see that Guy was holding back a lifetime’s anger. Guy swallowed and said: They just don’t care Thomas. They don’t care because the death of a gay boy isn’t important enough. You know what it’s like. They might not discriminate against us in public, but they sure as hell don’t care if one of us dies. He is just another poor dead gay-boy and he doesn’t deserve their attention.

Thomas sunk back into his chair. Well, that is why we are there. We do care and we will catch the murderer with or without their help.

Yes we will, but I have never experienced such resentment from the police. We all know what many of them think about us and we all know they do not like us, but at least they took our murder cases serious. This guy actually laughed about a murder; how sick is that? asked Guy.

You know we will never win any popularity contest Guy and you know we have always found a way to live in spite of that truth. Like a friend of mine always said; we should live them dead, we should just go on living as if they do not exist. That is the only way.

Well I know that, but sometimes I would just like to be respected for who I am. Why do they always look at us through our bedroom’s keyhole? They do not judge each other on those terms, said Guy.

Don’t worry about it Guy. I will try to find something through one of my other sources. You can not kill a young man in the middle of the City without someone noticing something. You can’t kill without leaving a trail. I will get back to you.

With that Thomas left their offices and Guy went back to his own miserable thoughts about judgmental people. The police’s attitude meant one thing; they will have to solve this without forensics.

Chapter Four

(One year earlier; Roma, Lesotho; 2010)

In the middle of Southern Africa there is a country with only one border running right around it and it has only one neighbouring country namely South Africa. The country is The Kingdom of Lesotho. It is a small (32000 km2) poor country with just more than 2 Million people of whom 40% earns beneath the international poverty line of roughly US$1 a day. Lesotho is sometimes called the Switzerland of the southern hemisphere. The comparison is definitely not the two country’s economic power, but because of the fact that Lesotho is almost entirely filled with high mountains. In fact it is the only country in the world that entirely lies a 1000 meter above the sea. It is said that Tolkien, who was born 70 km from the Lesotho border, based the geography in the Lord of the Rings on the geography of Lesotho.

In the middle of Lesotho there is a small town called Roma, named after the fact that it was founded by Roman Catholic missionaries in 1862. Roma is the home of the only University of Lesotho and is therefore a popular town for those who can afford to study further. Just to put the town in perspective it might be necessary to say that Roma had to wait until the 21st century before it got its first streetlights in the main road. It is a very poor town.

Ralph Matsimela was born in Roma. He went to the Christ the King High School for boys and studied further at the National University of Lesotho in his hometown. That made Ralph one of the privileged boys of Lesotho, but hardly privileged in terms of the world at large. After his studies he hoped that he could stay in his beloved town, but unfortunately he had to leave. For one thing the town was just too small to offer him a job and secondly the town was just too conservative for a poor gay man. He also wanted to study further. Therefore he applied for a job as a teacher in Bloemfontein, the South African city with a University closest to his beloved Roma. How was he to know that the city of Bloemfontein would bring him to his death? At the end Ralph was just another poor African gay boy who was murdered; one of many gay men who would meet the same fate a year later.

Chapter Five

(Bloemfontein; 1 August 2011)

Spider was home and he was at it again behind his desktop; Facebook, the new way of mankind to communicate without any real connection, was his hunting ground. Someone once said that if you have one true friend you should consider yourself lucky, if you have two you are very lucky and if you have three you do not know what true friendship is, but on Facebook people list thousands of friends. Facebook friends are nothing more than a list of people you once met combined with many you have never met before. As much as the gods of Facebook warned against connecting with strangers everybody still did it. They connect if someone have a pretty face, a sexy body or a cute smile even though they know the picture could be a fake, and normally is. They connect if someone says something interesting even though they know it is probably a quote they copied and pasted from a different website. They connect if someone shares the same interests, job, sexual preference even though they know it could all be lies.

That is the thing Spider liked about the newest social media fad; people could be picked, bought, and owned like a stray dog in a shelter. The lonelier the person, the better chance you had to draw him out of the safety of his profile in to the danger of your web. That’s how Spider did it and he enjoyed every moment. Gay boys were the easiest of them all. The combination of too much lust, fear, and loneliness with too little guts, opportunities, and possibilities made them the perfect group of victims. They were so gullible and that was what he fed on.

Spider had quite a few hooks in the waters of Facebook and his profile picture made it possible to catch many fish without his presence. That was the beauty of his hunting ground. He had more than four thousand friends on his list and he hardly invited any of them. With the right fake profile picture, a catchy job listed on his bio, an openly gay banner across his homepage, and a few statements about his willingness to screw anybody with a dick he attracted more desperate men than a flytrap. Some days he had more than a hundred invites from gay men throughout the world; the Indonesians were far ahead of the rest when it came to being hard-up. He accepted a lot of international friends because that helped to build his popularity, but he was only interested in a specific group of local men for the time being. He only used the many international friends to hide his true goal. With his false identity and his self-made popularity he could get close to his real prey; those who were contaminated by his family.

At that moment he wasn’t luring someone in particular because he was still high on the last kill, but he had quite a few men in mind for the next. There was one problem with the anonymity of Facebook and that was that it was traceable for those who knew a bit more about the cyber world. Therefore he normally used his brother’s computer, but not today. He did not pick men with only a few Facebook friends, because he wanted to hide among the crowd. He also did not invite anybody into the real world, because he wanted to blend among the thousands who never went past cyber-connections. Facebook was only the way to smoke them out. The moment he had a target, he used all his other tricks to get to the person behind the profile he was interested in. He didn’t target just anybody, because there was a specific group he wanted to nail. This was his game and he played it well; maybe better than anybody else.

Chapter Six

The Magician walked into Thomas’s dream and looked a bit depressed. After so many years Thomas knew that the Magician only looked like that if he had a serious matter to discuss. The Magician normally had a smile on his face and he could see the humorous side in the gravest of situations, but if the Magician looked like this, it always scared Thomas.

What is it? Thomas asked.

The boy who was killed; I knew his great-granddad very well. They were from Roma in Lesotho; one of the most beautiful areas in Africa. There is an old story behind all of this Thomas; the fact that it was this boy and not another, complicates the case for me.

Are you going to tell me what you are talking about or do I have to guess? asked Thomas.

No. You don’t have to guess. I will tell you the story. In 1903, almost a hundred years ago, a young gay man was killed in the town of Roma. The young man was the brother of your victim’s granddad. As I said, I knew your victim’s great-granddad. He came to us for help and we never found his son’s murderer.

Why do I get the impression that you are telling me just a small bit of the story?

Thomas, it is a long story, a very sad story and it happened almost 100 years ago, so give me a break, answered the Magician.

So there is more? asked Thomas.

Much more, and with that the Magician vanished from Thomas’s dream.

Chapter Seven

Thomas was lying awake in the bed that he and Chris shared for the last 21 years. After all this time he was still in love, not in the same way, but still. When Chris opened his eyes he could see that Thomas was troubled.

You had a dream, didn’t you?

Yes I did, said Thomas.

What is it? What did he tell you?

If you shared a bed for 21 years you know each other pretty well and Chris knew Thomas in every possible way. The Magician was often a part of Thomas’s dreams. Dreams are one of those things that many speculate about. Some people believe it is a message from beyond, others believe it is mere brain activity in your subconscious, but for Thomas it was quite different. He didn’t speculate whether it was from beyond or within; he just knew that he could always trust his dreams - especially if he dreamt about the Magician. The Magician never failed him and therefore Guy, Chris, and Thomas took the Messages from the Magician serious.

He said that this Ralph guy’s great uncle was also killed and for the same reason, answered Thomas.

So it was a homophobe-killing, guessed Chris.

No, not necessarily, but the Magician said there is more to the story than meets the eye.

There always are. I mean, if there weren’t anything more to the story the Magician would not contact you right? asked Chris.

Yes, you are right, but he did not really tell me the whole story. He just hinted that there was something more to tell.

And then he disappeared, right?

Of course, you know him by now; he stopped in the middle of the story like a good soap opera.

Chris got up and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Thomas wouldn’t move before he had some coffee. Thomas wondered about the first episode of the story the Magician told him. He knew there was something big about the story. The Magician always told great stories in small episodes; it was part of his charm, his personality. Besides the fact that the Magician was a great person to know, a phenomenal teacher, and a good friend to have, he was also a keen storyteller. One thing was sure and that was the fact that the Magician always helped Thomas to keep his eye on the target. After a dream like this, Thomas would not think about anything else than the case at hand.

Chris came back with coffee, two cups for Thomas and one for himself.

Roma; it sounds like an interesting place. Shall we go there this weekend? asked Thomas.

As I know you, my love, it would be impossible to live with you if we didn’t, answered Chris. He knew his partner all too well.

Chapter Eight

(Roma; August 2011)

Chris, Thomas and Guy drove from Bloemfontein to Maseru and then to the town of Roma. When they arrived there were almost forty kids running alongside the car until they parked in front of a store in the centre of Roma. The town itself was not impressive at all, but the view to the mountains surrounding the town was breath-taking. They were in the middle of Lesotho or the Kingdom of the Sky as some called it. It was obvious why they called it so, because you could see the light blue sky, without a speck of white clouds, for miles around you. They felt the tranquillity the moment they crossed the border from South Africa to Lesotho. The one moment they were still in the rat-race of a semi western country and within minutes they were in a very traditional African atmosphere. Along the roads there were many farmers herding their cattle or sheep while riding on a donkey. It wasn’t really cold, but all the farmers wore traditional Lesotho blankets and pointy straw hats. The blankets came in all the possible colours, but it was mostly a mixture of stripes and shapes in a variety of different colours on each blanket. The different pictures