You are reading: Emmanuel and the furtive kiss that forced him to flee Nigeria hidden at the helm of a merchant ship: "My crime was being gay"Jairo Vargas Martin@JairoExtreEmmanuel Chukwu is 22 years old, the scar from a machete blow behind his left ear, the one from another machete blow on his back and a name in his memory that he will never heal, not completely, at least.It's Chris's, "my friend, my partner, my brother, my love. Now I don't know anything about him, if he's alive or if he's dead," he emphasizes.They had known each other since they were 12 years old and together they discovered that they could love each other, even if it was secretly, even if it was a crime.Then they faced the price that a homophobic society would make them pay for it.He has not seen Chris since a furtive kiss triggered the spiral of violence that took him away from his mother, his home, his city and his country, Nigeria, where "homosexual acts" are punishable by up to 14 years imprisonment or corporal punishment and even the death penalty in the north, where Islamic law prevails.He had to go, and he did it hidden in the rudder of a merchant ship.The journey from Lagos to Malaga, where he docked in January 2021, is about 5,000 kilometers in a straight line, almost twice as long bordering the West African cape, and the ship did not make stops."I spent nine days holding on, without letting go for a moment, without eating, almost without drinking, without sleeping," the boy describes.That was a year and a half ago."When they found us - he traveled with three other stowaways - they asked us where we had gone up. They did not believe that we had endured from Nigeria there," he says between laughter that alternates with long silences, hands that cover the face and some tears of rage and nostalgic.It has cost him a lot to start telling his story, they say from the NGO Rescate, in which he receives support, job guidance, legal advice for his asylum procedures and accommodation in Madrid that he shares with other people who have had to flee their countries. because of their sexual orientation.He could die.He knew it when he decided to sneak in and was reminded again by the three stowaways that he found already on the ship's shovel, who were prepared with coats and some food."I had nothing, almost no strength," he describes."But at that time I didn't care. I thought it was better to die than to lead the life I was having. The people I loved the most betrayed me and abandoned me. I had nothing there," he says."It was at some popular parties, we had already drunk and we did not control the acts well. We kissed, we were not careful," says the young man before the first collapse during the interview.There will be several."Several people saw us and it all ended in tragedy," he recalls.Persecution, fights, flight and rejection of the community, sums up the young man."They ripped off my clothes, they stole everything I had, they beat us up in the street," he recalls.The people wanted to take justice into his own hands and almost succeeded."I was so scared that I wanted to call the police, even if they took me to jail," he confesses."It's very crazy, really. It bothers them that you're gay, it bothers them deeply. In my country you can't do the things you want, there's no freedom to want. Life is about living the way you want, but they don't understand that. My only crime was being gay," laments Emmanuel.The community did not understand it, "which in my country has more weight even than the family," he says.And if the community doesn't understand it, your family disowns you."I have been lucky. Many homosexuals are betrayed by their own relatives and one night the police come and take you into custody," he says.That's why he never met more people like him in Nigeria, except for Chris and a lesbian girl."I escaped as best I could, but I couldn't go back, they would kill me or arrest me. My family turned their backs on me and I had to leave without money, without food and injured," he recalls.He spent seven months living on the streets of the capital."He slept under a bridge, asking for money to eat and for medicine, because he was very ill," he points out."Many people helped me, really, but it hurt me a lot that they could never know what had happened to me, why they had to help me. I couldn't tell them," he says.Still he considers himself lucky."I suffered only a small part of what could have happened to me. There are people who are mutilated for being gay," he adds with lost eyes.One day, out of the blue, he said that he was done carrying water daily at one of the ports in Lagos.Either it's today or it's never, he thought.He had been watching huge ships enter and leave for months on their way to Europe."I knew how to get on one, but not where they went."He chose, almost by chance, the Marsk Cabo Verde, a behemoth 250 meters long and 35 meters wide, loaded to the brim with containers.She has nine meters of draft and the four barely fit on the rudder blade."At night it slows down, but during the day it jumps and jumps. I thought I would sink at some point. I stopped feeling my body, my arms were swollen from holding on so long and so hard," he says.When he was rescued in Malaga he spent two weeks hospitalized.Then he started his new life."The papers? It's the least important thing to me right now, really," he says harshly."I still have to recover psychologically. I have nothing, I have lost my life, my family, my acquaintances, my boyfriend. I have escaped death twice. I have to make sense of everything now," he maintains with aplomb, sometimes in English, sometimes in the Spanish that he has become fluent in a year."I fill the day with things not to think about," he sums up;it's his tactic, but it doesn't always work.Football is what saves him the most, he played since he was a child and last year he was a defender or midfielder in a team from Madrid.He has now signed for another club in San Blas, but he has also taken training courses as a forklift driver, with internships in Mercamadrid.He knows how to sing and dance and he just wants a job opportunity that gives him a routine and income to get ahead.In Rescate they believe that his asylum application has a 90% chance of being recognized, but that, they say, is just one more rung on a steep ladder.Emmanuel's face is now one of those that illustrates the campaign The right to exist of this NGO specializing in people fleeing discrimination and persecution because of their sexual orientation.They appeal to the companies of the Community of Madrid to open their doors to these refugees for whom existing and being as they are is their only crime."In Africa there are few opportunities, but I never thought of coming to Europe, it was not in my plans, it has been a matter of life or death," remarks the young man.With a job, he says, maybe one day he can talk to mother again, "because mother will always be mother," or find out what happened to Chris.At the moment he is excited about the Pride celebrations in Madrid.He still finds it strange to see same-sex couples kissing on the streets of Madrid.That almost cost him his life.He remembers the rules of the community.He remembers the rules of the community.