The sun rose over the City of Ghinda in the historical, isolated Northern Red Sea region of Eritrea. Another hot summer day begins in the small Northeast African nation. Ever since his father Ishmael Kebire passed away, Yohannes Kebire has stepped up and taken care of the family business. The Kebire clan owns close to a thousand acres of land, and their herds of goats, cows, and horses make them the envy of their neighbors. As it is elsewhere in the world, farmers form the backbone of Eritrean society.
The Kebire family's wealth and success hasn't gone unnoticed. Local farmers covet what they have. Yohannes knows that with envy comes danger, so when he and the other herdsmen tend to the animals, they always watch each other's backs. Brigands and bandits aren't the only threats in the Eritrean countryside. The greatest danger a man can face comes from those who know him and claim to be his friends. This adage holds especially true in Eritrea.
In the town of Ghinda, Northern Eritrea, things are done a certain way. The locals are expected to protect themselves and their property rather than relying on law enforcement. Such is the law of the Eritrean countryside. After a few close calls with outlaws, Yohannes moved his mother Asma and his sister Wahida to the City of Asmara where they would be safe from brigands. They would find a better clientele for their textile business in the Eritrean Capital anyways.
Small, isolated towns like Ghinda don't even have a police force, but there are many police officers and soldiers tasked with protecting the City of Asmara. After all, if a country's capital isn't secure, it's not a good look for the whole nation. The leaders of the Eritrean nation don't care about what happens to the people in the countryside, preferring to focus on the big cities like Asmara and Massawa. The hardy people of Ghinda are left to fend for themselves, and honestly, that's the way they like it.
In the town of Ghinda, the locals grow fruits and vegetables, or they raise cattle. Relations are mostly peaceful between the Orthodox Christians like Yohannes and his family, and their Saho Muslim and Tigre Muslim neighbors. In Eritrea, for the most part, Muslims and Christians make an effort to get along. Men and women from both faiths sometimes intermarry. The older generations remember what it was like to live under the yoke of Ethiopia and the harsh rule of the imperialistic Italians. Eritrea has come a long way since then.
Eritrea finds itself at something of a crossroads. Modernists are bringing up questions of everything from religious freedom to women's rights and the rights of sexual minorities. Traditionalists feel very differently of course. They want to keep things the way they've always been. In nations like Somalia, Ethiopia, Djibouti and Eritrea, most people live as though gayness, bisexuality, lesbianism and transgender identities don't exist. There are many reasons for that.
The African viewpoint on matters such as sexuality and gender, along with male/female relationships and roles differs from that of Europeans and others. This doesn't mean that queer people don't exist in Africa. Of course, some African women love other women, sexually and romantically, and some African men love other men, but it is largely hidden. In Africa, if a person isn't heterosexual, he or she ought to keep their mouth shut. It's safer that way.
Even though the traditionalists will deny it, there are non-heterosexuals living in Eritrea's arid countryside, just like everywhere else. Yohannes is one of them but he doesn't look or act the way the haters expect him to. As a tall, handsome and masculine Eritrean man, Yohannes is considered above suspicion. When most Eritreans think of a queer person, they envision an effeminate male like Bashir the Somali hairdresser. Yohannes is nothing like that. Sometimes it pays to hide in plain sight.
