My Encounter With Homosexuals, Prostitutes, murderers, and Addicts - Oscar Bamwebaze

We All Have A Right To Be Loved

When I landed at JFK airport in 2001, I had no idea as to where I was exactly. I didn’t bother to find out where New York was on the world map before my departure from Uganda, nor did I carry out any research whatsoever on America. I was picked up from the airport by six drug addicts in treatment at a DAYTOP substance abuse treatment facility called Springwood. 

I was to undergo a 6 months internship (training) in addiction treatment at a facility in Rhinebeck, New York, called Springwood. I chatted happily with these drug addicts as I was driven straight to that facility. Many of them could barely make out what I was saying because of my heavy African accent, and even if I was speaking English, some of them had to repeatedly ask me if I was speaking English! 

Inside Springwood, I shared accommodation with the patients and underwent the same treatment procedure as they did, very much like an anthropologist does in any community. I was rewarded or punished, just like any other patient. Many of these patients were convicts sent into treatment and some of them were facing 25 years to life in jail for their various crimes. Amongst them were gangsters with bullets still lodged in their limbs; prostitutes with no place to call home; drug dealers, murderous racists with hit men searching for them in their neighbourhoods, etc.    

Before my arrival in America, I had always assumed that there were only two types of Americans: black and white. But in the weeks which followed after my arrival, I was buried neck deep in a sea of confusion, as I encountered more races: There were the usual ‘whites’ who referred to themselves as Caucasian, then there was another type of ‘white’ who referred to themselves as Black, or Asian Americans; there were the mixed white and black race, who to all extents appeared the same race, but they identified each other as different races: Dominicans, Pautoricans, or Latinos. Each of these races had issues with any of the other races, and many had fought racist wars before entering into treatment.  

 Unable to conceptualize these different races, and tired of trying to figure out which race came from where or who belonged to which race, I just settled for the simple fact that these were all one people- Americans- and I made friends from every race.

 This simplified my life, until the day I politely referred to my Dominican friend as a Pautorican. “You mother fucker” he screamed out at me, “Never call me a Pautorican because I am a DOMINICAN…I am DOMINICAN!” He was in a terrible rage and I thought he would punch me. I very humbly apologized for the mix up, he painfully controlled himself, did not talk to me for a couple of days, and I remained more confused.  For the 6 months I was at Springwood, I just kept forgetting what this guy’s race was exactly! I wasn’t spared from the racial conflicts either, because there was a time when every race discriminated against me as an African from Africa. I went on strike for a week and presented my grievances to the director of the facility. He looked into the matter and punished the whole facility. We all recovered from this conflict, and our friendships deepened as we learned to respect each other.

 I had three roommates. One was a Caucasian, who had a long career as a professional burglar. He worked odd jobs on the street, and stole beef or tinned food from restaurants where he was hired for some work. He broke into houses at night and stole whatever he could. But despite his background, he was a lovely guy to hang around, and I never saw him lose his temper even once. This guy was perpetually pregnant with humour and he was loved by every one.

 My other roommate was an American Indian from South Carolina. He had served as a US Marine and he was in treatment because the police arrested him on the streets the first time he touched drugs in his life! He liked me very much, and we would spend many hours talking about the cultures and traditions of his people, and how similar they were to those of my tribe. “I would like you to visit me in my village one day” he would say excitedly, over and over again, “but my people are racists and I don’t think you would feel at home”. He often shared his people’s racist jokes with me, but he always went through the trouble of ensuring that I knew he wasn’t racist. This guy always filled me with laughter.

 My other roommate was an African American former USA paratrooper, who had served in Somalia. He was a very quiet man who was found of me. He always wanted me to visit him at his parent’s home, but I never got that opportunity.

 These were nice people, but they were now here in treatment for their drug addiction and related crimes.

 My best friend was Tony, but the first time I was seen talking to him, the other residents warned me to keep a very safe distance away from him. “Tony is a gangster who has been killing black people for a living,” they said “he is a racist. He can not be your friend. Don’t impose yourself on him!”

 But for some strange reason, I enjoyed Tony’s company because he aroused my curiosity. Initially, his response seemed a bit cold towards me, but I assumed that this was his nature. Gradually however, we built up a friendship, and in a very apologetic tone, he one day said to me, “you are my first black friend. You know, I used to hate black people…I used to kill black people.” In reality, I was incapable of conceptualizing what he was talking about, because all I could see was the ‘goodness’ in him.

 Inside here, I got all kinds of strange friends. One of them was Chris, a Latino addict who had buried a colleague alive and stood there to watch him die. Every once in a while, as we stood outside in the freezing cold to marvel at the woods interposed against the sunset lit sky, he would narrate that incident. Despite this stain on his soul, he was one of the loveliest people in this facility and he took his treatment seriously.

 Then there were the homosexuals. I was so close to one of them and he even ‘hit’ at me one day. I politely informed him that I was heterosexual, and without much of a fuss, he respected my sexual orientation as I respected his, and we maintained our non sexual friendship.

 I had two other homosexual friends, and the first time I encountered them, I did not know what to say. In Uganda, homosexuality is a criminal offence, and people can get lynched for being homosexuals. But in good time, as I got to know these homosexuals, I learned to like them. They had great personalities. We grew so close, so much so that each time their sexual partners visited them, they invited me to join them for lunch. I took advantage of this opportunity to learn as much as I could about homosexuals, but even then, much to their amusement, I always forgot who was the wife or husband of the other!!! I also had three lesbian friends and some HIV positive friends.

 All these people would be hated and looked down upon in my society, and yet, ironically, I have never felt as loved by anyone here, as I was by these people. The day I left America, many of them broke down in tears. I had never seen anyone in my entire life weep for my departure. Hardly a day goes by without me recalling the happy moments I spent with them.

 My experience taught me that we are all human, have the potential to love, and can be loved regardless of our orientations or histories.

 Yesterday I had a heated argument with my barber in a ghetto. He was of the view that homosexuals should be hanged. I disagreed, arguing that homosexuals should be loved. He is a staunch Christian and he quoted some texts from the bible which support his barbaric view. But I am also a Christian and I pointed out the fact that according to Jesus’ teachings, all a man has to do to enter heaven is to worship one God, and love one’s neighbour as one’s self. Therefore, I said, we are under an obligation to love homosexuals as we love ourselves, just as they are under an obligation to reciprocate this.  I went further to point out the fact that we have all sinned, and we consider homosexuality to be a sin, then we are no different from the homosexuals. He was upset when I also argued that none of the Ten Commandments lists homosexuality as a sin, so who are we to declare it sinful?

 “A good homosexual,” I said “is better than a bad heterosexual. A faithful, monogamous homosexual is better than a sexually promiscuous heterosexual. There are both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ heterosexuals and homosexuals.”

 My experience in USA taught me to love every human being on earth, regardless of what they had done. Murderers, burglars, prostitutes, homosexuals, lesbians, addicts, and other classes of socially ostracised people, were my best friends for six months, and ever since the time we parted, I have never met anyone that effuses of more love than these people. 

 After my arrival in Uganda in 2001, I became a co founder of Uganda’s largest and oldest treatment centre for addicts today. But something strange also happened a few years later when homosexuals were being persecuted by the whole country.  The homosexuals held a secret meeting, but they also wanted a trustworthy journalist to be present during their meeting. I had been a journalist for 10 years, but I had never written anything about homosexuality and I was in no way linked to it. I was stunned when a clergy man approached me and told me that I had been selected by these homosexuals to attend their secret meeting because I was the only journalist they could trust in the whole country! I happily attended their meeting and we freely socialized after that. As far as I could see, they weren’t any different from the heterosexuals, with the exception of some visible hormonal imbalances in some of them.

 Today I am undergoing training as a dog handler with a security firm called Surety International Placements Agency, which intends to post me in Afghanistan with the Americans. 90% of my colleagues in training barely have an education, but I am not bothered by the fact that even if I have a degree in psychology and I am an author, I will be earning the same amount of money as the most illiterate fellow amongst them. In reality, we are all equal.

 I thank God that I once went to Springwood, because if I hadn’t, I would be one of those guys who wants to lynch criminals, homosexuals, lesbians, drug addicts, prostitutes and other types of  people alienated from the Ugandan society. I would be the type of snob who would refuse to earn the same amount of money as those who have never been to school. In summary, I would be useless to myself and others.