"We don't know anybody like that." By Madeleine Maurick His name is Josephine. His twin sister was attracted to women, he to men. She has since died of malaria and he is trying to get over the death of George, who died in a motor vehicle accident two years ago. This is the report of a three-week search for the invisible men and women of Zambia that do exist but that no one knows about.

Josephine lives in Kaunda square, a rough township near Lusaka, the capital of Zambia. On our last day, a taxi takes us on a tour of the bars that he frequents. We're accompanied by Jackie, who works for the human rights organisation Afronet, and by Peter, a good friend of Josephine's. The driver is in for anything. As we proceed, we are told that Josephine's real name is Martin, and that his twin sister looked like a boy and that he looked like a girl, and that Josephine would be devastated if we were not to find him. "He loves being interviewed", says Peter. After a fruitless hour and a half, we decide to return to the hotel, fed up and frustrated now that our weeks of searching for a gay or lesbian somewhere in Zambia is on the brink of failure. Peter says he is prepared to keep searching, and vows that he will find Josephine within the hour.

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We continue waiting in the hotel. Jackie promises again to phone her friend, who is a lesbian, but who refuses to talk. She didn't want to be the only Zambian to come out. Another lesbian woman only wanted to talk if there was money on offer. We might not have minded - when in Rome… - but Afronet thought it inappropriate. One gay had decided to become straight, and a couple of others never came to the appointments we had set up. Hotel staff members were watching us spending more and more time in the lobby, appraising unknown men, especially during the last week of our stay.

Homosexuality is crime in Zambia. It carries a penalty of three years imprisonment. So it is no surprise that no one has come out. Human rights organisations don't consider homosexuality an issue, in fact they have never really thought about it. Some people see it as having been imported from the West and have only heard about white male foreigners "doing it" with black boys in exchange for money. And of course there are the men that force young boys to have sex with them in prison. But voluntarily and between adults? No, they don't know anybody like that.

We are told that President Chiluba has never made any negative comments about this particular group of his subjects. But, since Zambia is a Christian state, everyone seems convinced that he would be violently opposed. Gays don't as yet feel up to the challenge. The large majority will stay invisible for now.

Not Josephine. When he finally makes his entry in the lounge of the Pamodzi Hotel in Lusaka, the silence is deafening. The guests stare silently at the slightly built young man with baseball cap, who, completely naturally, sashays his way towards our table emitting a drawn out "Hi!" His two friends Peter and Raymond, both inveterate heterosexuals, accompany him.

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Especially Peter feels it is important that his friend has the opportunity to tell his story. The whole world needs to know that Josephine exists, and how! He himself thinks homosexuality is bad. He has been in prison for 18 months, and has seen many homosexual rapes. He does realise, however, that homosexual love is something different. And that Josephine cannot be other than what he is. "Of course" they tried to talk to Josephine in the early days, why he didn't want girls. But Josephine adamantly resisted their advice. "If we couldn't accept him, we had to leave him alone" Peter explains. They ended up being friends for life. "He now calls me sweetheart, can you imagine, me!" Peter fondly exclaims. The fear of many heterosexuals to be seen with a gay appears totally absent with him. What a relief.

In the course of the conversation it becomes obvious that Josephine is proud to be gay, but reticent in divulging his secrets. It is as if talking about it is more of a threat than being it. Peter intervenes when Josephine claims not to suffer from discrimination. "You can be honest, tell them what has really happened!" he insists.

They have known each other since their schooldays. All three grew up in the Copperbelt, where the copper mines are. Even then, Josephine "behaved like a girl" his friends explain. He was taunted and isolated. Even his present friends took part. When they met again in Lusaka years later, they decided to become friends.

"People hate him", says Peter. "They don't want him to behave like that. When we go to our regular bar, the Mwai-Wathu, they often hit him. He then calls me to help him. The people know me", says Peter, well aware of his own strength. He is Josephine's protector in the township. "Then we will go and sit with him, and no one will bother him".

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Josephine sits in on this conversation as if it is none of his business. He has just told us that there is no aggression towards him, and he nods his assent when Peter explains that he has no muscles to fight with anyway. Josephine sometimes fights with women, that much he readily admits. "If I sit next to their men, they think I want something, and they get jealous. Peter adds that Josephine always makes use of a broken beer bottle to defend himself. "He is going to end up in jail, one day", he laments, but Josephine counters that on the contrary, he is very patient with people that are trying to annoy him. "Only sometimes, when it is too much, then I get angry", he ends. Josephine indicates that he is tired, he doesn't want to talk any more. Peter intervenes, indicating the cassette tape: "No Joshi, the tape hasn't finished yet, we have to keep talking." Josephine perks up when we ask about his evening attire. During the day he dresses like a man, but in the evening he puts on something "extravagant". Proudly he tells us he owns one full-length dress, a mini skirt and a legging. His hand caresses his own body. It is obvious which outfit he prefers.

Since George, Josephine tells us initially, there has been no other man in his life. As the conversation progresses, however, it is obvious that he is being economical with the truth. He is ashamed of his paying affairs. He regularly drops the name of his beloved George, as if to reassure us that this has been his only and greatest love. Admitting to paid sex seems a form of disloyalty to the memory of his friend. With much hesitation and many sighs he produces a list of names of men that "sponsor him every now and again". Peter explains further, to make sure we understand. "They use him, sometimes". He also profits from Josephine's earnings; little extra's like a couple of beers, or an evening in the disco.

Josephine talks about his relationship with George. They lived together for two years, and traveled to Zanzibar, South Africa and Denmark. It was a wonderful time, which ended abruptly when George went to visit family in South Africa on his own and was involved in an accident on the way there. At six o'clock the next morning, George's brother knocked on Josephine's door. '"I couldn't believe it, I went to South Africa the very same day to go to the funeral." When Josephine feels down, George appears in his dreams and he relives the times that he now misses so terrible. "He was my husband, my man."

Madeleine Maurick works for NIZA (the Dutch Institute for Southern Africa) and is a staff member of the magazine ‘Zuidelijk Afrika’, in which this article was published in August 1998.

© Madeleine Maurick

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