Gay Tanzania - Silence in Africa

The following are some excerpts from a moving article entitled Gay Tanzania - Silence in Africa by Richard Ammon. He wrote the article in February 2008. The full text can be found at this website.

THE ASSOCIATION

"We were afraid you were a Tanzanian trying to expose us so we were not sure if we should respond. You know, it can be dangerous because we are not yet strong enough in our groups to confront the homophobia of the police, our families and our employers." So began my first interview with one of the leading Tanzanian lesbian activists as Ashura (not her real name) and I talked over lunch in central Dar es Salaam (Dar, for short) on the east coast of this central Africa country. 

I had traveled across the entire vast green expanse of Tanzania--about a thousand miles--before I met Ashura and other activists. At first they were not easy to find. My e-mails and text messages went unanswered, and I was afraid I’d leave the country without seeing any lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender (LGBT) folks here or gaining any understanding of the "scene." Finally, Ashura came through by cell phone, and we agreed that our first meeting would be just the two of us to reassure other LGBT people that I was not a lawman or a spy.

The hesitation to trust a stranger is understandable. Homosexuality in Tanzania is a crime punishable by 30 years to life imprisonment for "offenses against nature." (The law was revised upward from 14 years imprisonment in 2002.) Nearly every day, I read in the several English language newspapers about suspected thieves being lynched or clubbed or burned to death by local vigilante mobs of men taking the law into their  own hands. There have been no reports of anyone getting killed for being gay, but the impulsive readiness of mob violence evokes a steady cautiousness in LGBT people to maintain constant vigilance.

"The Association" is a pseudonym for the one and only lesbian organization in the country. All groups have to register with the Tanzanian government, and this one is no exception. Of course, disclosing their true identity would be risky, so the women present themselves as a women's empowerment group under a different name, which I have named The Association. It currently has more than 100 highly invisible members across the country. Invitation to join is spread by word-of-mouth around town, including in the several gay and gay-friendly bars and clubs in Dar, a sprawling city of 3 million.

Ashura said one of the significant challenges is to get different classes of women to operate together. Tanzania is economically class-conscious with middle and upper class women reluctant to socialize with women in lower socioeconomic levels. There are different venues in Dar that tend to separate out the classes with each patronizing their favorite club. Often the flavor of a club is determined by the owner who caters to a preferred type of customer: some venues are gay male friendly, some are lesbian-friendly, some are mixed along with some hustlers and sex workers.

It's not easy developing a grass-roots LGBT organization here because of the criminal status of homosexuality. The movement is fledgling, cautious, and still finding its way. Most of Tanzania is agricultural with most work done by peasant families and workers with only primary (eighth grade) education and not a whisper of awareness about human rights, gender, or sexuality issues. There is no precedent for gay activism here and many LGBT members and leaders do not have the independence, finances, or time to go to leadership seminars or organizational meetings outside Tanzania.  Occasionally, the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission sends a consultant, as does HIVOS from Holland or Astrea Lesbian Fund.

Lack of money is a chronic problem. Tanzania, as an independent country, is hardly that: it depends on foreign government aid for over 40 percent of its gross national income. Hundreds of NGO's, UN agencies, and religious/charity organizations help keep the nation afloat with their donations and/or missionary health and education services across the country (indeed, across the whole continent). But since The Association and CPSS (the men’s organization; more later) don't yet have strong organizational presence or an impressive list of achievements or any reliable friends in high places, they can only compete modestly for international funding. And they have to walk a fine line of discretion as an LGBT organization, careful to couch their full truth within wider missions such as women’s rights or HIV/AIDS education or local sponsors of community arts and sports events. In return, pro-gay donor countries such as Norway and Holland also must be discreet so as not to be seen as funding an organization that is illegal in Tanzania.

Nevertheless, inside the city limits of Dar there is a quietly thriving LGB community with interconnecting circles of friends meeting privately in homes or in the half dozen venues that are gay or gay friendly. Still, a dense population is no guarantee of privacy or indifference. In 2007, a lesbian couple were forced out of their apartment in Dar when neighbors highly suspected they were gay and became threatening and vocal in their disapproval, protesting their presence, and creating a scandal that reached the local (unfriendly) newspapers. Another incident that scandalized gays in 2007 happened when two lesbians, socializing with a dozen other friends at Mango Club, had too much to drink and were found fondling in the ladies room, which soon blew up into another moment of media hysteria. It resulted in The Association being thrown out of their office.

The Association's troubles have emboldened Ashura and the membership—as women in a patriarchal society and as lesbians in a homophobic culture. Their set goals are to bring awareness to an unenlightened country (at least the major cities) by offering health programs and educational discussions about women's issues (power, equality, sexual protections) at the local community level, and about more generalized awareness regarding diseases such as malaria and teaching about improving water quality.

In this manner, The Association integrates itself in local affairs, and neighbors get to know the women not as lesbians but as charity caring workers for the common good. Slowly, as friends, they can be known, if others ask, for who they are: women helping women. Those who want to know more are free to ask The Association further questions about the members, but more commonly much is understood without words.

In addition to women's social and education work, The Association focuses quietly on health care workers who deal with HIV testing and counseling. Many health workers are uneducated about gay men and lesbians and the variant sexual details of disease transmission among this population. There is always a need for more trained HIV-test counselors who can deal with same-sex behavior in a mature manner since homosexuality for many does not exist and is therefore not targeted in the national prevention programs. It is hoped in the future to lobby the Ministry of Health on behalf of lesbians and gay men to increase awareness of gay issues since these people already receive HIV care in hospitals and clinics throughout the country. Research for this purpose has been offered by Norway but so far only gay men are included in the proposal. The Tanzanian health ministry has not agreed to include lesbians in this work since "lesbians don't exist" here.

As if this were not enough to keep The Association busy for several years, Ashura said they want to do research and write documentation about sexual abuse of women, especially lesbians, that can be passed on to Tanzanian human rights organizations-- which is awkward because some of them are not known to be friends of LGB citizens. Even the former director of Amnesty International-Tanzania, who was somewhat supportive, has not shown any interest in bringing about awareness change in official circles. Even though the Tanzanian constitution prohibits discrimination against anyone, it is an abstraction that has little influence on the streets where people live and work and mask their truth with silence and smiles. Even in the respected University of Dar es Salaam, not a single professor is willing to offer LGBT human rights leadership or support, including anyone from the law faculty.

Ashura said there is a strong call for legal, medical and organizational assistance from international rights organizations and NGO's to help give forceful and weighty guidance in this direction. When a respected Dutch consultant from HIVOS came to Tanzania to lecture and discuss with other NGO's about LGBT human rights there was polite but clear denial and resistance to his visit (e.g., "it's not an issue here because there are very few homosexuals in Tanzania").

COMMUNITY PEER SUPPORT SERVICES

I also spoke with two leaders of the men's Community Peer Support Services (CPSS), the only gay men's organization in Tanzania. Claiming over 475 members throughout this country of 35 million people, CPSS has ten sub-groups or zones across the land. Allan is the chairman of CPSS, and Jon (not their real names) is the program coordinator. Together in Dar, they design programs intended to advance equal rights, increase awareness of diversity, and educate people about HIV preventions and care. It is claimed that 40 percent of Tanzanian men engage in sex with other men, with 100 percent denial. Many of these men are married which complicates the heterosexual HIV/AIDS transmission problem: how does one publicly address denied and secretive sexual behavior? And how does a wife protect herself with condoms without implying or directly accusing her spouse of taboo but common extramarital activity?

Like many gay organizations in repressive homophobic countries, CPSS does not present itself as a gay but rather an an HIV education and awareness program offering community-based activities  and information as a means of helping others and becoming a familiar local helping hand—not unlike the women’s Association. As well as serving others, such charitable activity also helps qualify CPSS to receive some limited funding from international donors who must, in turn, be sensitive to the laws of recipient countries. In Tanzania, homosexuality is a criminal offense which forces funders from liberal pro-gay countries such as Holland and Norway to find ways of spiriting money to groups without offending authorities. As part of their protective guise, CPSS has established a "cover" organization with a different name through which foreign donations can be received—a common tactic throughout homophobic Africa.

Such cautiousness, I asked Allan, is it really necessary? Has anyone actually been busted? "Yes," he replied, "last year a man in Zanzibar was caught in a sexual relationship. He was jailed, tried, and sentenced to 34 years in prison. The term was later reduced to 30 years."

 
Similar to the women's Association, CPSS focuses on charity and health work to increase their local visibility and become integrated into neighborhoods in all ten zones. Their most recent event was a sports bonanza, "Mukasi 2007," co-sponsored by CPSS and a non-gay organization that offered competitions in 10 sports and attracted about 500 kids in various age groups. In the process of having fun, the kids received age-appropriate information about health issues including HIV, self-respect, personal hygiene, and the importance of education.

Another focus for CPSS is the local environment. They engage with residents of neighborhoods for clean-up days to improve living conditions, eliminating trash and stagnant water (to reduce mosquitoes). "This is the way we want to work, as a community organization so people come to know us as their friends first and then only maybe later, if it comes up, about our sexuality. By then we hope we are known as good helpers and educators and sports sponsors and not as a label of 'gays' that scare people and turn them against us. We don’t push a gay agenda," said Jon, "we do it the African way."
 

As with lesbians, the gay men in Dar function in a lively yet closed social network of intersecting friendship circles in private homes, gay-friendly venues and at CPSS meetings. Needless to say, the entire network is virtually invisible from the outside as homophobia always threatens to unmask or arrest people. Allan should know. He narrowly escaped capture last year when he was dating a younger man whose parents found out about them and called the police. When the officers showed up at Allan's residence, he was not at home and the cook said Allan was out of town. But he was only three doors away. Afterwards, the cook reported to Allan who immediately left town for several months until the heat was off. Sadly the young man is now estranged from his family and Allan does not go near the parents’ neighborhood even though they do not know his face. "I'm always nervous," he said. "You cannot imagine how it is to always feel threatened by such a legal rule."

Jon said the consequences for being "outed" are dire. Jobs, reputations and family honor are at stake. Allan attributed this to poor education, the conservative culture, narrow-minded religion, and rigid adherence to heterosexual traditions, all which inhibit personal freedom and cast a shadow on the progress of pro-gay efforts. Despite being in a major metropolitan city, gay men still operate within a society that is filled with anti-gay negativity, harmful gossip, and rumor that can humiliate and ridicule vulnerable people, destroy reputations and careers, and break up families. That said, if a gay Tanzanian is discreet and doesn't make a public scene or act inappropriately, a man or woman can have a moderately comfortable and safe life with a partner and gay friends in Dar, Zanzibar City, Arusha, or Mwanza--Tanzania's other major cities.

But not in rural villages. Outside the city limits, where the vast majority of Tanzania's people live, peasant farmers raise families to help work the land, planting rice, and harvesting corn or coffee. Education for many ends at 14 due to lack of secondary schools fees. Sexual identity and personal expression are far down the list of privileges. Any budding same-sex desire dissolves into adherence and loyalty to one’s family and tribe and into minimal-education work, such as tending goat herds, furniture making, or delivering charcoal fuel by ox-cart. Of course, sexual desire does emerge and carnal combinations happen, but for rural gay men and lesbians, the connection is usually without any understanding of sexual orientation or same-sex romance and is internalized as "just something that happens."

However, if a person does understand they are "different," a private gay life can be lived in an invisible manner with carefully crafted masks and socially acceptable disguises, the most common of which is marriage and kids, whether out of self-ignorance or deliberate deception. Dar’s millions of denizens provide anonymity and a highly cosmopolitan mix of foreigners, professionals, UN personnel, NGO employees, and an educated and prosperous middle class. In Arusha and Mwanza, the next largest cities, there are scattered members of The Association and CPSS but clearly no visible "scene" to be found in the streets and markets of either city.

In Dar, Allan said he has lived most of his adult life in the city. Allan's entire family of seven siblings knows about his orientation. For twenty years, he lived with his beloved Abdul whom he originally met at the bank where they both worked—until it was discovered they were a gay couple in 1996 and fired because they were a "bad example," with no recourse to legal action. It was their dismissal that gave impetus for their starting (with Jon) CPSS in 1997 as a charitable health NGO as a means of supporting themselves, doing charity work, and helping isolated and alienated gay men with no place to turn. The initial funding came from the three founders. There was no LGBT group anywhere in the country at the time. Since then, CPSS has grown slowly and secretly; they use code words to identify themselves.

Unfortunately, Abdul succumbed to AIDS in 2005—more accurately, from incompetent homophobic medical treatment than from the virus.

Jon originally worked for a government agency that approved construction projects during the socialist period after independence. But eventually, the ministry was made redundant as privatization replaced state controlled agencies and industries. More recently he has been engaged on occasion as a contractor in Dar, building residential buildings. He also has seven siblings, two of whom—brothers—are also gay. In 2005, he campaigned for a seat in parliament and learned the hard way about corruption, greed, and turf wars among government ministers and MP's with not-so-hidden agendas for manipulating power and money to their favor.

Gay and lesbian Tanzanian activists have a great challenge ahead of them, to begin a delicate dialogue with the government to reconsider the criminal status of same-sex behavior and open a small window of tolerance in a culture that is ignorant and prejudiced against sexual difference within its population.

IMPROMPTU INTERVIEW IN ZANZIBAR

Suraka is a 23 year old Tanzanian heterosexual receptionist at the Sunset Bungalows in Kendwe village on the west coast of the island. With a ready smile and a soft masculine bearing, he checked us and showed us to our modern and stylish room near the beach along azure blue water. A couple of days later, I approached him and asked if he knew any homosexuals in Zanzibar. His reaction was calm as he thought for a moment and said he didn't know anyone directly but knew there were some in Stone Town and knew that others worked in the various resorts along Zanzibar's coast.

GG: What is your opinion of these people?
I don't know why they want to do that. It's not a good way to be for them, I think.

GG: If a friend of yours said he was gay. would you still be friends?
I don't think so. It is strange for them that way. I don't know why they act to be that way. Maybe the parents did not advise them in a good way. Maybe they are confused and do not have normal friends with girls.

GG: Would the family reject the gay person?
Maybe, or maybe say nothing or make them be married. I don't know.

GG: Do you have a strong bad feeling about gay people?
Not strong but yes a feeling, more like feeling sorry for them; they are not right and maybe they need advice to correct their way. But if they are famous and everybody knows, then it doesn't matter. It's okay and people accept that.

GG: There are gay people here?
Yes, I think so in the tourist areas there are such people who look for sex, for man or woman. We know this and it happens in the tourist sections—like in Mombassa (Kenya). But not so in the small villages away from here. There it is not good, not allowed to be that way. Local people don't understand this and will not accept it.

After a pause, Suraka seemed puzzled by his own lack of knowledge about homosexuality and his inability to explain better the issue in his country. "I will put my head down and think about this and give you a better opinion later," he said. It was obvious he had never been asked about homosexuality and had little understanding of it—not unusual for the vast majority of straight Tanzanians.

Q BAR / RESTAURANT IN OYSTER BAY, DAR ES SALAAM

It's not a polished place, with picnic benches for dining tables and several stand-up drinking tables; half a dozen TVs for watching sports events; two bars offer dozens of alcohol drinks; the food menu offers the usual chicken-beef-fish with rice oR chips; open to the sky with upstairs and downstairs seating; and a guesthouse with a couple dozen rooms ranging from backpacker bunks to oversized "executive" rooms; an en suite single is US$45.

About 9 PM, the place starts to liven up as friends and strangers show up in singles, couples, or small groups looking for a chat, a smoke, a drink, or a meal. On this particular night, under a full moon in February, by 9:30 PM there were distinct "types" gathered at tables and bars. The most visible were the prostitutes with their stylishly tight outfits, movie-star make-up, and an ever-ready "halloo" on their lips.

Across the room were several men, in couples or threes or fours meeting after work at the numerous embassies, NGO's, and commercial offices in the area, both European whites and local blacks chattering at each other above the house music. Another cluster was "tom boys"—young women with lean figures dressed in jeans and shirts looking very butch. Near them was a heterosexual couple obviously entangled in a cat-and mouse conversation of nonsense verbal foreplay. This was clearly a mixed place with cross-currents of interest: lesbians, gay men, straights, and variations in between.

The energy level was bubbly and appeared free of the paranoia I had heard about for two days during my interviews with activists. This was a person-to-person local LGB/straight pick-up and cruise scene where people were left to their own choices without risk of being busted by police. And this was only 9PM; by eleven or midnight the crowd increases and the night's dark shadows provide cover for discreet or indiscreet liaisons that satisfy hidden desire with little risk.

The scene repeats itself nightly and Tanzanians in need of contact live out their night lives as counterbalance to the required restraint of daylight, professions, and domestic responsibilities.