It is Sunday the 8th
of April 2012. I have been skeptical about this part of the trip for the
longest of time. I am meant to be going to Kampala. I am a planning freak; I
book my flights and accommodation well in advance before I go away. This time
around I only booked my flight to Kampala from Nairobi the day before my
departure. I didn’t book accommodation and a return flight as I was not sure
how long I wanted to spend there.
See in my iternerary I had
said I wanted to stay for one night only so I can just go to Makerere University
for the day and head back. I had so many preconceived idea of Uganda (Kampala).
Mainly because of what the media had been feeding us. As an out gay man it was
an obvious stay-away zone if I valued my life. I decided that I would stay two
nights in Kampala before heading to Dar es Salaam. I had it all planned out, I
had asked a friend of mine to link me up with a human rights activist in the
city in case of an emergency. I even had bail money ready.
I had taken about an hour to
decide what to wear. I didn’t want to wear anything that will attract attention
to my sexuality. It was at this point that I realised how fortunate we are to
be in South Africa where I just go to the shops and I buy just about anything
that I like. No I am not as camp as Christmas but really one can tell miles
away in East Africa by just looking at my bright orange shorts that I am a big
Friend of Dorothy.
After a pleasant flight with
Air Uganda, the wings of East Africa, to Entebbe my heart started pounding. The
fact that everyone in the flight was looking at me made it even worse. I
thought they could see right through me. I spent about four minutes at the
counter. The lady was amazing; she was impressed that I spoke Swahili. The hold up was only to fill in my receipt for
the $50 VISA fee. My driver from the hotel was already waiting to take me to
Kampala. I was still nervous.
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| Driving from Entebbe to Kampala |
The drive to Kampala was to
be about 40 minutes if there was no traffic. The airport precinct looked much
better than that of Mombasa. it was very clean. Yes, I had other ideas of how
the area would look like. The drive made me cry. All I saw was a well-developed
city that has been hidden away from South Africa and possibly the rest of the
world, for whatever reason. The driver noticed that I was upset and asked what
was wrong. Right there and then I did the bravest thing ever and I came out to
him. You will not believe what happened next… He gave me tips if where to go
and what not to do.
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| Clock Tower in Kampala City Centre |
The city was a world-class
city with an African identity. The people looked proudly African, not trying
hard to be what they are not. It was by far the best city in East Africa so far
and before even stepping out of the vehicle I had made my mind up that I would
move to this city if I were to be asked to move here. I didn’t care much about
the looming anti-gay bill. I had reconciled with myself that they would never
arrest me just for being gay. What is gay after all? I would need to be caught
in the act to prove homosexuality. I was certainly not planning to do anything
of that nature in this city.
The Sunday evening saw me
meet my friend, the human rights activist, with a bunch of gay men. The meeting
was at a sports bar, how very incognito- just blend in with the rest of the men
J The night turned out
to be the best night out in East Africa for me.
The gay men were out and proud. They had no inhibitions. “What happened
to the gay people living in fear as the media reports?” I asked myself. I was
clearly not going to find them. Like in every African country, and that
includes South Africa that has a constitution that protects the minority i.e.
the LGBT, homosexuality is still frowned upon. Like in the streets of Umlazi Township,
the sight of same-sex lovers holding hands is still very rare in Kampala.
People know that gay people exist and they sometimes don’t mind them as long as
they “keep to their lane”.
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| Party at the sports bar. Decided not to post any pictures of my friends for their protection. |
In my two nights in Kampala I
enquired a lot about people’s perceptions of homosexuality. I came out to both
of my drivers and a few staff members at the hotel. The message was clear; you
can do whatever you do as long as it is behind closed doors. I was also told
that if I were to get a rent boy, I needed to make sure that I pay them or else
the consequences would be dire. Many of the arrests started with an individual
reporting another to the police. In most cases the reporting party would have
conclusive evidence of the sexual act, he would prove penetration.
I also made a stop at
Makerere University, the largest university in Uganda. I had gone there because
I believe it should be the Harvard to Africa.
Makerere educated some of the most influentia post- independence African
leaders, such as former Ugandan president Milton Obote and late Tanganyika
(Tanzania) president Julius Nyerere. The current Kenyan president Mwai Kibaki and
the current DRC leader Joseph Kabila went to Makerere as well.
The institution is aged and
not very well kept. I was not sure if the reason for that was funding or that
is how Universities looked like in East Africa. It felt like pilgrimage for me.
The walk in the campus gave me goose bumps. Seeing young people working in the
library lawns on a public holiday made me realize how much they still valued
education. My time was limited; I had many more sights to see and never had a
chance to speak to many of them.
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| Makerere University |
My main means of transport in
the city was a boda-boda, a motorcycle driven by someone and I the passanger.
It was a rather scary experience as these guys drive very recklessly and passengers
are not given helmets. My worst fear came to reality when we had an accident on
Jinja road, the centre of Kampala. No one was injured, just a funny moment
seeing myself on the ground. I loved this form of transport so much that I used
it again a couple of times.
I made sure that I tried the
local food. One that I had to get was a Rolex. No it’s not as expensive and
fancy as it sounds. It was made of eggs and what I called salsa (a mix of
tomato and chili) all wrapped in a chapatti. I was also offered a bit of what
the locals call KiCommando, a mix of chapatti and beans. It is believed that if
you eat this you will be full for a very long time, like the commando
(soldiers). I must say the food was quite appetizing. And yes I had my valoid
on stand by in case something funny happened, luckily I didn’t need to use it.
In my travel I fell in love
with all the music they were playing. Sunday night, my new friends and I danced
to the latest music which included a popular song by Chameleon called Valu
Valu. Valu Valu means doubt. The song was about this guy who had doubts about
the girl he was dating because the girl was materialistic, sound very familiar.
I went hunting for the CD all over town, from Nakumatt to Uchumi, and I could
not find it. It was unreleased. But where there is a will there is a way.
Kampala sure has my heart and
I will be returning again very soon!
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| Victoria Lake |
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