Tel Aviv Pride

It has been almost a year since Tel Aviv Pride. I would write up a whole post about it but I thought that pictures would tell the story better than words would. 

A party wouldn't be complete without a polar bear in sight. Of course I was stoked!

The Pride precinct was filled with happy party-goers. There was a brief performance by Willam Belli of RuPaul Drag Race fame. She sang Boy is a Bottom and of course the crowd went wild!

One of my best pictures. These were German guys (I think?) that had traveled to Tel Aviv Pride. I met a bunch of people that had traveled from afar to attend the event. I had traveled all the way from South Africa... many many hours away from Tel Aviv.

The night before the main Pride event I went to Evita on Yavne Street where I paid through my ears for drinks. It was a nice place with a typical gay crowd. While there we were invited to a party at comfort13 on the outskirts of the city. BOY were we blown away!!! The crowd screamed "welcome to Palestine" and we all stood there and wondered if it were a good idea to go in. The club played Arabic pop music and I found myself dancing all night till 6 am. Pictured above is Arisa, a renowned drag queen in Israel.

Serving... FACE!!

Of course I found myself a husbear!

Seen in the crowd. One of my favourite images. 

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Tel Aviv has been voted the best gay destination for a 2011 and 2012. Israel has been in the forefront of gay rights for years now. Gays serve openly in Israel's military and parliament and many popular artists and entertainers are gay. The gay pride is attended by a majority of the people of Israel. There has been claims that the Israel Government has been 'pink washing' - using LGBT rights as a form of propaganda.

Fire in the Bush

“If you want something new, you have to stop doing something old”  Peter F. Drucker.

All the events leading to the 2015 Bushfire Festival indicated that I would be better off if I stayed at home. This was to be my second Bushfire Festival, an annual arts and music festival held in Swaziland that draws crowds and artists from all over the world. Last year after Sauti Za Busara, another African music festival held in Zanzibar, I promised myself to go to at least one African music festival a year. With the year slowly coming to an end I knew that if I did not go to Bushfire this year I would have to break my promise. 

A picture of the crowd at Bushfire. The crowd is always up for major fun.

Last year I drove with a bunch of friends and we stayed at the beautiful Lugogo Sun in Ezulwini, Swaziland. Beautifully air-conditioned rooms with white linen sheet. Breakfast was always an event. We would wake up at 9 am and go for a long buffet breakfast with mimosas on tap. It was a typical weekend away with friends, I wouldn't have it any other way. This was the life I was accustomed to.

Unfortunately life has its curve balls, everyone that I was meant to go to Bushfire with was unable to attend - I find this out twelve days before departure. I thought of staying at home and having a champagne party for one while watching some or other show. I called my friend, Mohau, who reminded me that I am a solo traveler and can take the trip on my own. I immediately went online and looked for accomodation at Lugogo and Royal Swazi Hotels. Everything was fully booked. I tried all my tricks - Hotels.com, Agoda, Kayak, roomkey, etc - nothing worked. I made so many phone calls until I realised that I should give up and try the alternative - camping. 

And no, by camping I don't mean singing along to all of Judy Garland's songs while mincing up and down. I mean camping in the woods. And by woods I don't mean... I had to prepare myself for my first ever camping kit. I had imagined that if I am ever going to camp I will certainly glamp (glamorous camping). Unfortunately that was not happening this time around. 

My journey into 'emancipation' started at 8 am at OR Tambo where I would catch the bus to Swaziland. My patience has never been so tested like that day. We got to Swaziland at 19:00 after hours of drinking to numb the pain from waiting. The first tasks was to pitch a tent. I had never pitched a tent before (well unless we are talking about THAT tent) and I was quite nervous that the damn thing would be blown away in the middle of the night. The tour leader gave us a quick tutorial and he helped me pitch mine. It was relatively easy so I offered to help my fellow campers who, I might add, had never pitched tents before. 

I had gone to Cape Union Mart before leaving SA to get camping gear. The shop assistant was very helpful and probably earned an easy commission from me. I bought pretty much everything the he recommended. I was worried that I had spent a lot more money on this camp that I should have. My first night camping was really great. This was because I had bought the right equipment and this kept me warm. 

The trouble, however, came in the morning - the showers. That was where I drew the line. I took a combi from Mahlanya to Ezulwini for my spa appointment where I hap a 3 hour session planned out strategically so that I can take a shower and have a warm brunch. This was the best thing I had ever done for myself. I had a good 4.5 hours to myself with no cellphone reception. I felt so relaxed. Do not ask me where I showered on Saturday morning. 

This camp was a great reminder to try something new regularly. It came at a very right time - a month before my first trip to India. Getting out of my comfort zone is what makes one a traveler, not a tourist.

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Per Swazi law intentional sexual relations per anum between two human males was unlawful. I am not aware of any men that have been jailed recently over homosexuality. It was very interesting to see the LGBT out and about in the festival having fun. I met a few locals that assured me that they are safe in the country. The Swazi people are still very conservative so public display of affection among the LGBT may be frowned upon. 

Valu Valu

This is a diary entry I wrote on my way to Dar Es Salaam from Kampala.

It is Sunday the 8^th 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.

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.

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”.

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.

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!

Victoria Lake

Candle in the Wind(hoek)

I still remember the day I took my trip to Windhoek like it was yesterday. I had spent the days preceding my departure at one of Africa’s greatest gay gatherings, the Mother City Queer Project (MCQP) in Cape Town. The year was 2011 and the theme was Maid In China. This was my first MCQP and it lived up to all of my expectations. My journey started in the morning of 19 December with a brisk walk from my hotel at the V&A to the Cape Town train station. Yes, you read it right; I took a 23-hour bus ride from Cape Town to Windhoek.

I honestly do not know what had possessed me to take a journey by bus alone instead of flying to Windhoek. I had not been in a bus since 2007 but something in me made me think it was a good idea to be on a bus for 23 hours instead of flying for two hours. My decision may have been informed by the fact that the bus ride was less than $100 vs. at least $300 by plane. After a few minutes of admin and finding my bus we were on our way. I was excited. I came prepared with my snacks, music and a power pack for when my iPod would give up on me. I was that super eager guy in row 22!

The most beautiful thing about this journey was meeting all the different people that were making their way from Cape Town to their homes for the Christmas holiday season. I met a lovely lady (we shall call her Grace) who had just completed her Masters degree at the University of Western Cape in economics from Windhoek who gave me a bit of a background on the country’s politics and economic policies. I also met gentlemen who were making their way to Angola and the DRC. I quite enjoyed the conversations with all these people and one particular one was with Grace when she was telling me about her decision to quit her job and go study full time after her divorce. Grace was also very kind to give me a blanket at night. I don’t know what I was thinking – I just assumed that the bus company would provide us with blankets like they do on planes. Now I (and you) know.

The gentlemen from Angola and DRC at one of our stops before crossing the Namibian border.

We arrived in Windhoek at 8 am after an uneventful ride after we crossed the Namibian border. Note to self: the next time you decide to take a bus ride that crosses any borders just make sure it is not over the Christmas period. I was very lucky that the bus stopped right outside my hotel in the city center, Hilton (don’t side-eye me, yes I took a bus to go stay in a 5* hotel). I must mention that that was by far the best hotel I stayed in during my travels. Their attention to detail was awesome. Perhaps I was happy with the fact that they allowed me to check in early AND have breakfast. I am tempted to say that this was the best part of my Windhoek stay.

This is all I traveled with. This is me awaiting my room to be ready at the lobby of the Hilton Hotel Windhoek

Scrumptious breakfast at the Hilton Windhoek

The city is very clean! It reminds me of a small German town I have never been to or a small version of Bloemfontein, a South African city. I searched the city for Namibian cuisine and all I was met with was German cuisine that was drenched in oil enough to deep fry a pea. Honestly my disappointment at this city came from the fact that it had no identity of its own. It was the tenth province of South Africa – I could still use my South African Rands throughout the city and dine out at the same South African chain restaurants.

I spent my days lounging my hotel's rooftop bar and sending my friends pictures of the cocktails I was having and the spectacular views of the sunset.

The nights were more eventful. I went to the local bars and clubs to meet people. I went for the One Namibian Dollar shots special at Fashion Bar in the outskirts of the city. Again, it didn’t feel like I left South Africa. The only saving grace was Chez Ntemba and their zouk/Kizomba music. I thoroughly enjoyed the Angolan and Congolese patrons (men) and their warm welcome and flirting (which I didn’t mind at all).

I also quite enjoyed seeing the beautiful OvaHimba ladies in their full traditional gear and their famous natural long hair. The OvaHimba are a tribe from the North of Namibia and are the last nomadic people of Namibia.

Calling the Kuchu

I have been meaning to write this since 2012. I have had so many versions hereof and I have discarded so many of them. I just never thought I would be able to articulate my experiences the way that I ought to. The funny thing is that whenever I tell people my story they are always fascinated and always want to hear more. So today is the day that I tell my story of being a gay traveller in Africa.

I think this is a perfect time to write this. The moment one says gay and Africa in the same sentence the first thing that comes to mind is death and all associated emotions. Admit it! I did too. My first thought was how I would have to act in order to be accepted. Being born and bred in South Africa I got accustomed to being myself and pay little attention to how my sexuality came across to people.

One particular moment that stands out was my trip from Nairobi, Kenya to Kampala, Uganda. I had always wanted to go to Kampala but I was, of course, scared to go there. I had planned my entire East African trip and left a few days opened for Kampala but didn’t book any flights and accommodation, just in case I changed my mind. The excitement of being in Mombasa and Nairobi and meeting kuchus (slang for gays) gave me the strength to go forth and book my flight to Kampala the next few days before heading to Tanzania.

I had a few problems (in my mind, of course). All of my clothes were quite ‘gay’. Just to paint a picture – I had this old man give me the eye of disapproval on my way to catch a matatu on Moi Avenue in Mombasa because my luminous orange short shorts probably hurt his eyes. I then decided that I needed to get clothes that made me look more (this word is debatable) butch *chuckle*. Off I went to the shops in Westgate, Nairobi! I managed to find some baggy pants and a blazer to wear to the airport so I can at least get my Visa. Now that I think of it, it was rather a dumb idea to think that clothes would make me look butch. But hey…

The morning of my trip came. I had mixed emotions! I was sweating up a storm. The clothes were too big and I was nervous. But I was excited to finally go and see Kampala and Makerere University, which for me should be the Havard of Africa. I sat next to a very unfriendly man that didn’t greet me back after I used my best KiSwahili to say hi to him. The fun began in Entebbe Airport, Uganda, when I had to go get my visa. I had my $50 in hand, my passport a big smile and a butch walk to match. Perhaps I should have left the smile behind. I greeted the lady at the desk in KiSwahili, I should have learnt some Buganda, and she was really nice and complemented my good KiSwahili. We chatted a bit about me being from Sauzi (South Africa) and I became quite comfortable. I completely forgot that I was meant to be straight acting. I picked my bags up and off I sashayed to get a taxi.

On the way to Entebbe I found myself disappointed at myself. Disappointed to have listened to the negative media about Africa. Western media! I actually cried! The drive from Entebbe was the most beautiful drive ever and I would not have experienced it had I not taken that step to not be afraid. I didn’t care what would happen to me when I get to Kampala. I was happy to have taken the bold step to see my continent. The sight of Victoria Lake took me back to my childhood when we learnt about the greatest lakes in Africa. And at that point I decided that I was going to write this to you and tell you to be brave and take that bold step in going to see the beautiful Africa.

My experiences in Africa have been nothing short of amazing. I have made friends that have become family. I have learnt to get out of my comfort zone – learnt a new language, gate crashed a wedding, took a boda boda (motorbike) that had no lights in the middle of the night from a club without a helmet, taken a matatu (local taxi) to Watumu from Mombasa without a map but the help of locals, stopped at a bar that looked busy and had a few beers, the list is endless. Not once have I felt discriminated. I understand that my experience may not be the same as everyone else’s.  

Bill Bryson summed it all up and said “to my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.”  I look forward to sharing more of my travels in Africa with you.

By Mel M

Mel M is a young gay man with itchy feet and wanderlust tendencies. During most days he is an accountant and by night and other days he transforms into a travel addict that spends most of the time looking up destinations and being in those. His love for the African continent has had him travel to 12 African countries in two years and hasn't stopped. His travels aren't only limited to the African continent.