Vessels in the King's House

CHAPTER ONE

Mr. Mukasa knocked at the Priest’s door, and waited for an answer. Instead of hearing footsteps that could tell him someone was coming to open, there was just silence. He knocked again. This time a bit harder, and waited.  An impatient thought ran through his mind. .... these whites with siesta ...

The Headmaster had spared his lunch break to see the Priest over an issue that he thought needed the man’s assistance, but now he was likely to be late. He had always liked to be in the office a few minutes ahead of time.  His watch read a few minutes to two. Mr Mukasa decided to try one more time; if there was no answer, he would be forced to postpone his visit until the evening. He gave three consecutive knocks in the same rhythmic pattern, and then heard footsteps quickly approaching the door.

It was Father Dale’s habit to walk in quick and short steps, something precisely close to the gait of a lady. He pushed open the door; only the outer shutter remained still. The inner shutter with its thick glass, distinctly barred Mr. Mukasa from walking in. The Headmaster uttered no word, for he was not sure whether he could be heard with that thick glass barrier in between them. Father Dale, in his long and dark dressing gown, also remained dumb before the Headmaster. It was like being caught in a forbidden act. The Priest stood there awkwardly searching for words good enough to justify himself.

Sorry for the interruption. May I come back later? It seems you were in bed. The Headmaster broke the unnecessary silence. The Priest’s white eyes were sharply focused on him. It was as if he was wondering whether the Headmaster meant his words for an apology or regret.

No, not at all Mr. Mukasa. What can I do for you?

I wanted us to discuss an important issue

Official?

Presumably it is.

I’ll be in the office at half past.

Half past? he inquired with a shrug.

Half past two. Too late for you?

Not really. I think I’ll be there.

Okay, Sir. See you! He was fond of saying that, to the distaste of Mr. Mukasa. Father Dale liked acting femininely to all his male counterparts. He walked straight to his office and opened the door. He was somehow disturbed, even though the Headmaster had found nothing to deal with on the spur of that particular moment. After a while, he considered the letter, the reason for his visit to the Priest’s house ... the school was full to its capacity, but the letter having come from the Catholic Secretariat; obviously the Priest would not turn them down. ... ran the thought of the Headmaster.

He was distracted by the school bell announcing the beginning of the afternoon classes. He happened to look out through the window and saw Duncan the head boy coming from the Priest’s house. Then it started: ...could it be true, the rumor that Father Dale gives ‘’sweets’’ to the altar boys in his house? He could not help wondering.

At that time, Duncan was passing near the Headmaster’s window on his way to class. Hastily, the Headmaster rose up and called the boy through the window. When he came, as usual with Duncan, his calmness challenged Mr. Mukasa, who started doubting whether it was really right to speak of such God-forbidden thoughts to an altar boy!

Where are you coming from?

I’ve been to the Dispensary, he lied, looking down and biting his lower lip.

Who was attending you at the Dispensary at this hour? Have they changed their time? The boy knew he had been thoughtless in cheating his Headmaster ... why couldn’t I have said something else? He hated himself the more.

Why are you lying to me, Duncan? Here, come closer. Let me see your cheek, commanded the Head Master.  The boy innocently obeyed for he could not guess why. He thought perhaps the Headmaster wanted to pinch him as he did with smaller boys. When he bent his head in surrender to the demand, Mr. Mukasa behaved as if he was picking lice from the boy’s head.

What is this? he asked, frowning. Surprisingly enough, he was holding a long golden lock, no doubt from the Priest’s head. The boy was completely dumbfounded. What could he really say?

What is this, Dun? Is it part of your hair?

No, sir.

Whose is it?

It’s a Mzungu’s" (Swahili for a white person).

Which Mzungu, and how did it come to be on your head? He couldn’t answer that.

Dan!

Yes, sir. He was now very scared.

Go. I’ll find a time to talk when you’ll be willing and ready to speak out. The boy never uttered a word nor did he make a move.

What is it? Haven’t I told you to go?

Sir, I wish you would punish me and forget it.

Forget what? The boy’s lips trembled. It was as if he wanted to say something, but his lips would not easily open up.

Go to class. I’m meeting Father Dale in a couple of minutes.

Why must you see him, sir? I was not with him!

Who said you were with him? This is a different matter. You must have heard us arranging to meet in his office at half past two. Duncan remembered it all. How he now wished he could melt away and vanish from that muddle of a shame! If the two men met to discuss him, how would he bear it? And suppose the Headmaster decided to send him home, his ailing grandmother would die.

The Headmaster rose up and took his bunch of keys from the table. Even without being told again to move out, Duncan had to force himself to. He didn’t know whether to follow the Headmaster and confirm his fate or go to class! They both walked out and each one took his own direction. Mr. Mukasa, after locking the office, proceeded towards the Priest’s office. He did not bother to look back in confirmation of Duncan’s direction. Ahead of him was the Priest, who was also taken aback on seeing the boy with Mr. Mukasa! He would not want to give himself away for the Headmaster’s easy guess, but gathered his courage and daintily walked to the office.

Mr. Mukasa did not waste a minute. As soon as the Priest sat behind his desk, there was a knock at the door, and obviously Father Dale knew who it was.  The Headmaster entered, a bunch of keys and an opened envelope in his hand. He took a seat opposite the Priest and immediately produced that neatly folded letter out of the envelope. As he was doing this, the Priest’s eyes had already seen the letterhead.  Being a familiar thing, he knew already where the letter had come from. Only the content was now worrying him.

This is what I had wanted us to discuss, Father Dale. The Priest took the letter and read it first in haste with trembling hands, but he soon relaxed after getting to know the theme. He felt a sigh of relief.

What is your opinion about it, Mr. Mukasa? He asked the Headmaster, while replacing both the letter and his pair of spectacles on the table.

The School, as you know, is full at the moment, though this is quite a special case. Remember we had done the selection for the New Year’s intake to completion. Or what would you say?

Well, it is, and I think we should not turn them down. You may make a reply to it. This boy already has sponsors; I think that would have been our problem.

Of course, he already got a sponsor.

They made a positive conclusion, but instead of continuing their talks as they had always done after such official matters, the Headmaster sense tension from the Priest. He thought he knew the cause of his uneasiness. The Priest was acting like someone sitting on hot coal, hence the Headmaster thought it best to excuse himself and take leave. The Priest did not playfully call after him as was his habit ... see you ... not this time.

Back to his office, the Headmaster found the head boy leaning with his back against the wall. Immediately he knew why the boy was there but did not show any interest in talking to him. He straight away went ahead and opened the door, and Duncan was there as soon as he entered, even before closing the door behind him.

May I come in, sir? he implored.

You should be in class, Dun! What is it?

If you would allow me, sir, I would like to talk to you.

You’ve decided to speak out at long last, eh?

If only you would let me, sir.

Come in, and let’s hear what you’ve got to say. I have quite a lot to do here. The Headmaster’s attention was all on the table that looked messy with papers all over it. Duncan entered and stood behind a chair that faced opposite the Headmaster across the table, knuckling his fingers.

May I sit down, sir?

Yes, of course. Take a seat. He extending his hand toward the chair before the boy. Duncan slowly sat down with his eyes fixed on the Headmaster’s.

Did you ask him?

Ask who, and what?

I thought you’ve been talking to Father Dale?

Yes. I was with him, but what was I supposed to ask him? The boy felt awkward. He knew his subject very well, but did not know how to present it to the teacher.

Sir, I would like you to believe me when I tell you that I am not a....a.... a homo... He did not withdraw his gaze from the Headmaster’s sharp stares.

"You are not a homo?" The Headmaster repeated the same word that Duncan fervently wished was not mentioned again.

What the hell is a homo, eh? Sapiens?

Homosexual, sir.

Who said you are one?

That’s what Father Dale has been trying to make of me.

Has he succeeded? The boy didn’t answer. Beads of sweat formed on his nose and the rest of his forehead.

Duncan!

Yes, sir! He jumped from his seat

What are you intending to do in stopping this vexing act of shame against your reputation?

I long to know if you could forgive me, and I’ll tell Father Dale off.

This is an issue beyond my power to forgive. Do you realize it is sin?

Yes, sir. That I know.

And who forgives sins?

Father Dale, sir.

He does not! The Headmaster yelled at him, banging the tale. Where did you learn that? The boy couldn’t answer.

Father Dale himself is a sinner. Having induced you into that shameful act of sin, you still see him fit to forgive you, when he cannot forgive himself?

"I wanted to mean that God forgives sins through intercession of the priest.’

Now you’re right. Do you feel like you want to confess it?

Yes, sir.

Go right ahead, but do not look for another priest. I want you to approach Father Dale himself and let him hear your confession. The boy did not talk but the look in his eyes told the Headmaster that the probability of him facing Father Dale with the same was no more than 50/50.

When he left the Headmaster’s office, Duncan saw the rest of the boys leaving their classes for games. Much as he liked games, this time he felt so exhausted and drained that he did not feel like he could get involved in any game. Dejectedly, young Duncan dragged his feet to the dormitory. Somewhere at the far end corner of the building, the poor boy sat lost in his own world, quietly brooding on his loggerheads with the two men. He had equal respect for both of them and now he was faced with a conflict which demanded his denouncing of one at the interest of the other.

He knew Mr. Mukasa had meant well, but he couldn’t picture himself having the guts to face Father Dale. It was not because he wanted to treasure the habit but the conditions in which he was to confess it appeared too demanding of a sacrifice. The year is ending, and I’ll be gone. I’ll hear or think no more of the likes of Father Dale and Mr. Mukasa!

Courage ceased in Duncan’s heart after that contemplation. He strongly felt less convicted and even assured himself that there was no need of complicating things for himself by approaching Father Dale.

When time came for the evening prayer, all except Duncan had reported at the chapel. Then at supper time, a boy came and told Duncan that Father D.D had sent for him. Whatever was to be his fate, Duncan swore never to be seen with that priest again. He would talk to him anywhere, except in his house or any other secluded place. So, he never obeyed the priest’s call.

From that evening Duncan carried his grief everywhere with him. He walked with drooping shoulders and a frown pasted on his face. In his simple mind, he knew that the Headmaster must have confided about his rottenness to the entire teaching staff.  He did not know whether he’d do himself any good by approaching his teachers, one by one, in an effort to justify his position with the evil-minded priest.

On the other hand, he told himself that if the Headmaster had not spoken out, then he was likely to make a blunder of his own guilt.

Unusually, the priest happened to make a tour of the classrooms that night. Whatever made him do that could not be guessed by anyone but the head boy, who having not seen the priest as they had earlier on agreed, and even after being sent for, had still not gonw. Obviously, the priest was making rounds to fool everybody, but he had a hidden agenda.  He entered class eight with the pretext of seeing everybody as he headed to his target, Duncan the head boy.

When were you last in the sacristy? asked the priest.

Before the first mass this morning, Duncan answered with a kind of unfamiliar look directly aimed at the priest.

And what about this evening? Who issued the candles? Duncan had a tendency to ignore a question that he knew was intended to accuse him.

Can you come with me to the sacristy? the priest commanded, already headed for the exit. At this order, Duncan obeyed and immediately packed his books and followed suit. Once out, the boy deduced that their destination was not the sacristy but the dreaded house of Father Douglas Dale, which he had come to loath.

You said we were going to the sacristy, Father?

I need to talk with you, Duncan.

I’m sorry, but I cannot come to your house tonight, Father. Mr. Mukasa is already forming an opinion about us, and I wouldn’t like him to a... eh.. get further than he had reached.

What are you saying, Dan? Is he informed? He came closer to Duncan while speaking in a low tone of voice.

He must be.

How did he? Have you told him?

He called me today, immediately after I’d left your house, and happened to find a straying lock from your head on my hair. I must have gotten it from your pillow.

So?

I think he must have concluded that we are...

What was so peculiar about it? Was that enough to make him form an opinion, or you spoke out at his interest in fright?

I didn’t, Father. Don’t you realize how long he had waited at the door? Before you were ready to open? Mr. Mukasa with connecting ideas! Father, you need to know him better.

So, what are you saying?

The way you’ve called me out, I thought you’d found the sacristy in a mess?

Leave the sacristy aside for a while. What are you really saying here? He asked in a husky voice.

About what?

What did your teacher say about the lock?

He called me a name that I would not want to think of in connection with my personal reputation. Too humiliating a name. And, if I may say, I don’t think I could have been the one on whom to bind that demoralizing patch of a name.

What was that name?

Have you thought at any one time you could be referred to as a homosexual?

Did he say I am?

Not in actual words, but he was trying to fish me out from that pond of immorality. So, as from this minute, Father, I no longer want to make any more of that conviction. I’ve never felt so dirty in my heart as it makes me feel. I would...

Don’t say any more of it. I know what I’m going to do. The priest said and made straight to his house without looking back.

CHAPTER TWO

In the course of that week, some school inspectors came - three senior officers and a lady. One, who looked like an officer from the National Youth Service, was their driver. She was also the youngest of them. This driver was left in the car as the inspectors walked to the Headmaster’s office. The inspectors had never visited that school before, and so their coming was seriously taken by everybody. It had roused curiosity in the minds of almost everybody in the compound, the teachers as well as the pupils. They tried as much as they could to keep the eager pupils in classes during the visit, but they still kept peeping through the window as they talked in hushed voices.

After some time, the inspectors and the Headmaster, Mr. Mukasa, were seen in a hasty tour of the school. First they started with the boy’s dormitory, and then to the food store, the kitchen and lastly the dining hall, after which they made their way to the Headmaster’s office.  While at the office, they did not enter but Mr. Mukasa entered briefly, as if he was only picking something up, and then came out again. Their second trip ended in the classrooms. In every class they entered, the Headmaster did the introduction of the visitors to the class and the teacher, who was found with them. When