The kuchu movement is abuzz in Uganda. Kuchu is a word (plural: kuchus), apparently of Swahili origin, that lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and intersex (LGBTI) Ugandans have minted to describe their identities. "We do not use the word 'queer,'" explains Frank Mugisha, chairman of Sexual Minorities Uganda, an umbrella entity that brings together LGBTI organizations for advocacy purposes. "We've got our own word that encompasses the whole idea: kuchu."
Despite a penal code that criminalizes homosexual acts with penalties of upwards of 10 years of imprisonment, Uganda has witnessed an astounding flowering of kuchu organizations in recent years. Each cluster is structured differently: some exist primarily as online discussion fora while others run legal aid clinics or provide health services to sexual minorities. Some meet in bars and members' living rooms while others maintain offices with laptop computers and Wi-Fi internet connections. Taken together, they represent a richly diverse community and a potent symbol of how far Uganda's LGBTI movement has come in a short time period. "We are out talking," says Kasha Jacqueline, the executive director of Freedom and Roam Uganda (FARUG), an association dedicated to empowering lesbian women. Some activists note that one reason that kuchus are able to speak out is that Ugandan law allows only for the arrest of homosexual acts, not for LGBTI identities. "We want to talk about these things. It's our resilience that is making all of this happen."
But of course, this network-based approach contains inherent challenges. "As in many young coalitions elsewhere," says one respondent, "the struggle for power is still at hand. Everyone wants to be at the top, and we forget Rome was not built in one day." Beyond what seem to be relatively minor leadership tussles, however, larger challenges loom. The security situation for kuchu people - who by their own accounts are regularly subjected to blackmail by police officers, public harassment and assault, and imprisonment -- represents a daunting context in which to seek to expand membership. Some organizations of the Coalition have already been visited by "infiltrators" from the anti-LGBTI movement. "It's hard for us," says Jacqueline. "You can't really do a triage. We have had security training for our members, but otherwise, it is a risk that we have to accept to live with." Finally, the large-scale visibility that the Coalition has been able to mobilize around the bill has brought with it increased visibility for the services available for the LGBTI community, which are too meager to cope with the demand. "Positive and negative media campaigns have wooed many LGBTI members who were in the closet to come and seek our services," says Moses Mulindwa, public relations officer for Spectrum Uganda Initiatives, a health and HIV/AIDS-focused service organization, "[but] we have limited capacity to handle [these new cases]."
There is little indication what will happen next. A cabinet committee tasked with reviewing the proposed bill recently recommended that the law be scrapped, suggesting that most of the law's provisions were already adequately covered by the country's draconian penal code. Whether or not the bill will rear its head again, Uganda's legal and public opinion environment will still prove extremely challenging to the kuchu community there, and retaining cohesion will surely be a challenge, says Jjuuko. Be that as it may, Uganda's kuchus have proven that they can coalesce with astonishing speed and power to protect their collective wellbeing and advance their goals. "If we put the movement first before ourselves," writes Kalende, "we will achieve much more."This article is the second in a series profiling organizations and individuals in sub-Saharan Africa promoting the rights of sexual minorities. The first article in the series profiled the work of a pioneering agency in Malawi, and the next article will cover a West African setting.
One of the reasons people like UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon are talking about LGBT rights is in part due to the relentless dedication of the LGBT community in Uganda. As a result, Call Me Kuchu is a story of empowerment as much as a story of persecution. We hope it will provide audiences with a new understanding of Kampala's kuchus, both as a loving community that has achieved a tremendous amount in the past three years despite suffering a tragic loss, and as individuals who have actively chosen to become agents of their own destiny.
In an office on the outskirts of Kampala, veteran activist David Kato labors to repeal Uganda's homophobic laws and liberate his fellow lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender men and women, or "kuchus." But David's formidable task just became more difficult. A new "Anti-Homosexuality Bill" proposes the death penalty for HIV-positive gay men and prison for anyone who fails to turn in a known homosexual. David is one of the few who dare to publicly protest the country's government and press.