Gay Community Plays It Quietly in Face of Social Taboos
IRIN, January 21, 2005
DAKAR—The meeting-place was at a
noisy down-market street café where the waiter as well the clients were gay,
but where everyone was staunchly pretending not to be. Senegal’s homosexual
men are peeping out from behind the mask, but social and religious taboos run
strong.
“We are always pretending,” said one of a couple of
the leaders of the country’s underground movement who had agreed to come out
of the woodwork to talk to IRIN on condition of anonymity. “Sometimes we
feel sick of the lies.”
Hit by a spate of deaths and disease in the community
five years ago, a group of gays got together “to find out whether it was
HIV/AIDS and what to do about it,” said 27-year-old Mamadou (not his real
name). “There were no free tests available, people wondered if it was
malaria.”
“There were active and passive gays, transvestites,
queens, a whole mass of people who’re vilified and don’t dare go to
hospital because they’re afraid of being blacklisted and marginalised. Many
were illiterate too,” he said. “Being gay means being shut out. We had to
organise.”
From 56 card-carrying residents of Senegal’s fast-paced
hip capital Dakar in 2000, group membership has leapt to more than 400 today,
most of them aged between 18 and 40 and living in towns and villages across
the land. A second group of MSMs—the acronym for men who have sex with
men—claims to have signed up around the same number.
“Work with the gay community is beginning to bear
fruit,” said Alioune Badara Sow, head of projects at the National Alliance
Against AIDS (ANCS), a leading NGO. “The number of activists is getting
bigger by the day, attracting men from all walks of life, tailors,
politicians, the sons of traditional healers.”
But the dilemna facing Senegal’s gays is the same as it
was five years ago—whether to work quietly but efficiently underground, or
come out of the closet and face the music.
“Sex is a taboo subject here,” Sow told IRIN.
“Public opinion wouldn’t understand if we talked about all this openly.
People would think we were okaying homosexuality.
“But we must support MSMs, focusing on their battle
against HIV/AIDS in the interests of public health.”
At a downtown public hospital, where ceiling-fans whirred
in poorly-lit corridors peopled by wan, dejected patients, the head of the
HIV/AIDS and STI (Sexually Transmitted Diseases) department, Abdoulaye Sidibe
Wade spoke out against discrimination in the public health sector.
“MSMs are part and parcel of the population, we
consider them to be human beings, with rights and duties,” he told IRIN.
Sociologists say the “gor jigeen” (which means
“man-woman” in Wolof, the dominant language of Senegal) have long been an
accepted part of society, on condition that they avoid open displays of their
sexuality. However, gays appear to have a very long bridge to cross to join
the the rest of the human race in Senegal.
As in most sub-Saharan African countries, homosexuality
is illegal. Article 319 of the penal code bans same-sex relations as
“un-natural”. Strong conservative values, plus the preachings of the Koran
in this 95 percent Moslem country, mean trouble for those breaching accepted
sexual practice.
Mamadou, a quiet dresser who wears his hair in long
plaits in a sole slight sign of non-conformity, spent three weeks in bed on
one occasion recovering from a beating after the gutter press published his
photo and address. The experience terrorised his mother, who with rare
tolerance has accepted her “deviant” son.
His friend Alain (not his real name) on the other hand, a
highly-skilled 30-year-old sporting a mass of rings and cropped hair, would
never dream of letting the family know he was gay. Like many MSMs who due to
social pressure live life as married men, he has a child. “They take a man
as a second wife,” he joked, referring to the prevalent practice of
polygamy.
“But more and more infected gays are making women
pregnant. There’s a big transmission problem that’s broken the bounds of
the community.”
Because of the ban on homosexuality, it took the group
two years to legally register their association of MSMs. They chose a vague
name for the group to avoid running into trouble with the authorities or the
police—And Ligeey (“Let’s Work Together” in Wolof).
Step one was finding medical help, a Senegalese doctor
willing to assist the outcasts.
“They were afraid to visit doctors, afraid we’d judge
them,” said one of a group of medics who now helps the MSMs free of charge.
“But we treated them like human beings. They needed health care, we dared
look after them, and subsequently we came under verbal attack for assisting
them.”
Working on a voluntary basis, three Dakar doctors and two
in each of Senegal’s 11 administrative regions open their doors to MSMs
seeking help for sexually transmitted diseases, HIV/AIDS and opportunistic
infections.
The doctors, who provide drugs, treatment and even free
transport when necessary, also organise information workshops to help MSMs
help themselves by spreading awareness and know-how through the community.
“It’s difficult to find doctors willing to work with
the community,” the medic admitted. “But I believe that the Senegalese are
basically tolerant people and that in the long run the MSMs would be best off
remaining underground and negotiating their health problems little by little.
There’s no point in coming out and upsetting social sensitivities.”
However, Sow, the head of projects at ANCS disagreed.
“One day the community will be strong enough to come out of hiding. Until
then we must support them. Some people are just plain scared of being
associated with them publicly and of having to face a backlash.”
Sow said that although Senegal boasted one of Africa’s
lowest HIV prevalence rates—1.5 percent—vulnerable groups and far-flung
corners of the country were far harder hit. Sexual workers in the southern
region of Casamance, for example, suffered a prevalance rate of more than 30
percent, he noted.
“We have no exact statistics yet on MSMs and
HIV/AIDS,” Sow told IRIN. “But this is one of the potential carrier groups
we need to target to ensure Senegal can continue to contain the pandemic. We
must focus on MSMs.”
“There are more and more youngsters, 15 and
16-year-olds joining the community,” he added.
The ANCS started off by setting up a peer programme to
boost the self-esteem of Senegal’s gay community. It then helped to organise
workshops on safe sex, prevention, condom use, STIs, anal injury and the like.
But Sow said there was still much to be done, notably in
persuading reluctant health workers to assist MSMs and providing them with the
specialist training to do so.
“Yet at the national level there is no overall plan to
care for MSMs,” Sow said, referring to a four-year programme drafted by the
state-run National AIDS Council of Senegal (CNLS).
CNLS officia Katy Cisse Wone acknowledged that there were
thousands of MSMs in the country. “They are a public health concern,” she
assured IRIN.
Mamadou and Alain and their friends have asked the
internationally funded CNLS for a grant of CFA francs 36 million (US $73,000)
to finance a project to tackle AIDS in Senegal’s gay community, but they
fear it is being blocked due to discrimination.
The CNLS told IRIN their request would be considered once
the organisation starts to assess a new round of project proposals in March.
As the debate rages over whether or not the time is ripe
for Senegal’s MSMs to rip off their mask, Mamadou and Alain are left mulling
the even thornier and nore basic question of religious stigma against the gay
community.
“Only God can judge you. He judges the heart,” said
Mamadou.
[Home] [Sengal] [World]
