"Life" / Q-zine Issue 11 English / December 2015 by Q-zine

Issue 11, December 2015

To the loving memories of JoĂŤl Gustave Nana Ngongang (AMSHeR - Cameroon) & Zenita Temall Nicholson (SASOD - Guyana)

Issue 11, December 2015

About Q-zine Q-zine is a project of the Queer African Youth Network (QAYN) Co-Founders Caroline Kouassiaman & Mariam Armisen First Lead Editor John McAllister Lead Editor Cynthia Ibo Managing Editor Mariam Armisen Translators/Editors Abdou Bakah Nana Aichatou Caroline Blacky Mudingo Dipanda Anthony Blanquer Gerard Casas Astride Charles Claire Obscure Cynthia Ibo Patrice L Alice Vrinat Vanessa NĂŠpaul Graphic Designer Diana Reed Contact Site Internet: www.q-zine.org Issuu: www.issuu.com/q-zine Twitter: @q_zine Contact: contact@qayn.org

INSIDE THIS ISSUE Q-Zine | Life | Issue 11, December 2015

Q&A

My Beloved Body, Do You Remember That? Gerard Casas

Whether the Lion Wakes Up or Not Cynthia Ibo

36 42 68

I’m a Fashion Addict Mariam Armisen

Cynthia Ibo

We Have to Be Seen AND Heard

SHORT STORY

Reflection of the soul Cynthia Ibo

Lez ka lour!

Kawira Mwirichia

‘Unexpected Places’

Wings of Love

Love Said

Rosabelle Illes

Sestina of My Life

100

‘Cause I Love You

ESSAY

Gayle Bell

Mariane Amara

No More Lying

Exquisite Labour of Pain

Calabash is My Specialty

Cynthia Ibo

For Sizakele

Mariam Armisen

POEM

Nickel

Valerie Bah

PHOTOGRAPHY

Tightrope Walkers Stéphane Ségara & Mariam Armisen

REVIEW

MUSIC 94

I Was There!

Lola Kamarizah

Jan an yé

OZe’N & Why’z Panthera

Brogan Luke Geurts

Gayture

Issue 11, December 2015 | 5

Contributors Gerard Casas Gerard Casas is a translator and queer activist. His work revolves around gender, intercultural communication and arts. Brogan Luke Geurts Brogan Luke Geurts is an anti-capitalist queer, anthropologist by training, human rights activist, and drag performer currently living and attending a Masters in International Health program in Berlin, Germany. For the past 10 years they have been working on issues of structural violence, public health, harm reduction and LGBTI rights in the United States, Kenya, Uganda, Kosovo and the Balkans. Rosabelle Illes

Rosabelle Illes is an Aruban writer and artist. She is the

author of two collections of poetry and the creator of an art calendar. Her short-stories have appeared in Gone Lawn Journal, theNewerYork Press, Crack the Spine literary magazine and Susumba’s Bookbag. Next to her artistic career, she is also active academically as a PhD candidate in psychology at Leiden University. www.rosabelleilles.com

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Photo by Claire Obscure

Cynthia Ibo Cynthia Ibo is an afro-Caribbean activist, poet, writer, filmmaker, rapper, photographer. . . . Nickel Nickel is a Journalist by profession and a Program Officer at Humanity First Cameroon, a LGBTQ organization. Mariam Armisen Mariam juggles with several titles, amongst others, she is Q-zine’s Co-Founder and Managing Editor, a Translator, aspiring photographer and queer feminist activist. LK Lola Kamarizah is an african feminist who is fond of literature and sport. Lola is involved in the struggle for a just society. Gayle Bell Gayle Bell’s work has been featured in a number of anthologies. In 2013-2014, she was a Co-Exhibitor for My Immovable Truth-A Dallas Lineage put on by MAP

Contributors

OZe’N is a multitalented artist (video, photography, music) but it is through music that they express their feeling better. Why’z Panthera Poetry is the first art form for Why’z Panthera. She has published three volumes of poetry and has made numerous performances at poetic events. Why’z Panthera founded the RPAMC - De Profundis (http://www.rpamc-deprofundis. com/) in 2012 in Ile de France, with the goal of creating a space for mix artistic forms enriched by the diversity of profiles of its members. The association organizes its activities around four main areas: theater, poetry, music and video. These forms of expressions are regularly involved in the two pillars projects, the BOKANTAJ evenings, held since May 2014 and TIME ART videos, those first season began airing in August 2015.

Photo by Claire Obscure (Make Art With Purpose). She facilitated her and other GLBTQY’s oral history and performances. She can be contacted at taurusdagger@gmail.com Valerie Bah Valérie Bah’s fiction and nonfiction writing has appeared in several journals and anthologies, including Saraba Magazine, Spartan, and Speak Out: Stories of Pride, Courage, and Social Justice. Stéphane Ségara Stéphane is a young Burkinabe activist who is interested in using communications as an activist tool. Writing, particularly the expression of emotion through words is an important vehicule for him. His imagination and personal experiences are his favorite source of inspiration.

Kawira Mwirichia Kawira Mwirichia was born and raised in Nairobi, Kenya. She studied art and design throughout high school. She loves creating things, and expresses herself through visual art. She is also a part of an arts organization called AFRAKenya. Her Website: http://kalacompany.com/ Marianne Amara Marianne Amara is a lesbian activist living in Cameroon. A psychologist by training, she is passionate about research addressing gender identities. Marianne also loves gay and lesbian literature. You can follow her on her blog fleur-dafrique-noire.blog4ever.com.

Thank you all from...

Gayture is an ex-soccer player and a young queer activist

from Burkina Faso.

Actively involved in a non-profit LGBTQ organization, she is deeply interested in cultural elements and entertainment for the fulfillment of the LGBTQ community on the country.

Issue 11, December 2015 | 7

Editor’s Note

Photo by Meritxell Casas

By the Side of the Tree We had brought our bated breath to the tree—the bated breath that precedes joy, the post-amorous bated breath and our after-the-rainfall hopes. We had brought the bittersweet aroma of our deepest thoughts to the tree. Along with the stubborn scent of a never-ending infatuation. Along with our dreams of dwelling in all these certainties. The traces we left in the sand and the ground around the tree spelled that we were once here and that we will come back. And the aura of the ancestors has carried us, time and time again. Strength, love and perseverance...Still, the storm of our enemies had not shaken the tree. Or, just barely. We had danced around the flamboyant, or the mahogany, or the tamarind or the acacia…or all of them ...it didn’t matter. We made our dreams and disappointments sing, we made our struggles and our losses sing. We made our beauty and our star-like persistence sing, in darkness and daylight. And the tree may have shuddered. Sure it did shudder. All the trees shuddered, in unison. All the trees shuddered, out of tune. For we are forests that nobody can buy and some truly believed we would disappear.

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For, in the meantime, we have been tending to the tree. We have been tending to many trees. We embraced them tightly, sharing our energies, feeding from their sap so that we would come back stronger. Stronger in our love and insistence to talk, to show in colors, to laugh along with the leaves, to laugh along with the breathless flowers. We embraced them tightly—tight enough for them to absorb our fears, to fill us with desire and to whisper to the wind that we were coming back home. In intimate vibrations. To the rhythm of our personal marching bands. Queer, Panafrican, alive and kicking, Q-Zine quivers with the promises we make to ourselves, the promises we make to our lives, the promises we make to our trees—Q-Zine is beating. It beats for our stubborn breath blowing across the continent and our breathing echoes in the Diasporas, impatiently while still launching into equanimous choruses. Our loves spread everywhere and our loves remain next to the tree. That’s why the tree shivers. And by the side of the tree lies the 11th issue of Q-Zine.

Cynthia Ibo Translated into English by Vanessa Népaul

Issue 11, December 2015 | 9

My Beloved Body

My Beloved Body, Do You Remember That? An interview with Khanyisile Mbongwa by Gerard Casas. Photos by Txumari Ezpeleta

Q&A

y, Do You Remember That?

An interview with Khanyisile Mbongwa by Gerard Casas. Photos by Txumari Ezpeleta

Cape Town-based Khanyisile Mbongwa is an awardwinning poet, performative artist and art curator. In 2006 she co-founded the artist collective Gugulective, where she produced video art and performance installations. So far, her socially engaged art and her innate creativity have taken her to exhibit and perform in places such as Hamburg, New York, Berlin, and Sri Lanka. Visually powerful and groundbreaking, Khanyisile’s artwork revolves around race, gender, sexuality, identity and social class. Her performances intend to draw the audience off their comfort zone, trespass the boundaries of intimacy and transform bodies into a space for the understanding of oppression and violence, radically reconstructing concepts and, most importantly, challenging everyday life experiences for a freer and more authentic version of ourselves. In February 2015 Khanyisile visited Barcelona’s art residency JIWAR in order to exhibit her performative piece Being Lhola Amira and host several related events which contextualized her artwork and the reality of her homeland, South Africa. Here’s an extract of the inspiring conversation Khanyisile and I had over a late-afternoon brunch in Barcelona’s old neighborhood of Gracia.

eing black and female in post-apartheid, post 94, democratic South Africa, a conference in which Khanyisile described her views of social and political life in Cape Town and presented her wide-ranging project, started off with a quote by gender scholar Judith Butler.

In being Lholo Amira, Khanyisile physically transforms herself and becomes Lhola, a character that exists in her own right but can never exist at the same time and the same place. “Lhola is sexually much freer, she has no gender limitations, she engages with human beings rather than with men or women. The existence of Lhola and me questions performance and performativity. She thinks of people that she has fallen in love with or been intimate with. She forces people to negotiate with their intimacy and engage; she plays around with her body, looks at their eyes, in a public space, and ask them very personal and intimate questions like ‘have you loved a black girl?’ or ‘would you as a guy date another guy?’ Being one centimeter away from their lips, you can feel them breathing, feel whatever they ate.” “Some people are more open, others are more reserved. Some people don’t quite know how to deal with Lhola, sometimes you could see she had pushed her sexualness into an uncomfortable space that we are trying to negotiate.”

“My Beloved Body, Do You Remember That?”

The foundations and scope of Khanyisile’s performative art unavoidably queer. She likes to question the world, explore our limits and boundaries and seek for inner and outer spaces where our identities are constructed,

Issue 11, December 2015 | 11

neglected or transformed. Bodies are her source of inspiration and a channel through which her thinking is projected, a key element to understanding her ideas around gender, sexuality, power and rape. “At the moment, I think performance is the best channel to express myself around the issues of gender. Performance interrupts time and space. Even though it is very ephemeral, it has that sense of being here and now. I would think of my performances as interventions. It makes me think through the movements that I’m doing, rather than ‘I thought to do this and this is what I’m going to do’.”

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“Performance interrupts time and space. Even though it is very ephemeral, it has that sense of being here and now.” “I spend a lot of time thinking and meditating around the subject matter. I’m looking at imagery, I’m talking to people, I’m trying to have my body understand the context that I’m living rather than understanding it from an intellectual level, because I think the body remembers more than our intellects and is able to

process more. So there are things that I cannot remember on an intellectual level, but then my body remembers to move in a particular way.” “Because my performances are so much dependent on the audience and their participation, the actual formulation of the performance happens because of

the engagement. In reality, that’s how life works. You have your own concepts which act on how you are going to walk from point A to B, but anything could happen between these points — all kinds of engagements. That’s more authentic. So in between A and B, you are trying to think whether your physical appearance — that means everything, from your race, gender, clothes or sexuality — will interfere in that particular space and whether that space will kick you out or would accept you.” “What I realized with performance is that most of the time you might not be the victim of the act, but the victim of the memory. That experience might be that you are bisexual, or the prejudices of being a lesbian… You remember this memory, which is yours and your body internalizes, then you stop performing in a particular way because you are trying to create a protective glare. I try to subvert this energy and this reality and fight back. Performances taught me so much about the things that we are trying to deconstruct and understand.”

“Hey, Are You Here Looking For Your Mandingo?”

“I was doing a performative intervention in a bar in South Africa, in an area which is known for having foreign people coming from Europe into Africa to find Issue 11, December 2015 | 13

interracial relations. I was in the bathroom and through a speaker I was reading from Earl Lovelace’s book The Dragon Can’t Dance. There’s one character, Philo, a black musician who made a song about his dick, and there was a white journalist woman who claimed this one thing that already belongs to black men. If there is anything that black men already own is their dick. So, are black men only reduced to just their dick? It doesn’t matter how intellectual they are; at the end of the day they are just there to fuck.“ “While I was reading from the book in the bathroom I went on to ask white women present: 14 | Issue 11, December 2015

‘Hey, are you here looking for your mandingo?’ Some of them said they were; some refused to respond at the fear of admitting their projections on black male bodies.” “Surprise, surprise! You travel across a continent to seek a particular sexual experience, which is very exotic and romanticized. I will have this experience and fall in love with that person, a hypersexualized, romantic notion of someone’s body. In my imagination, I think it might be interesting to be an object of desire, but not an object of hypersexualization.”

Strange fruit

Strange fruit was an installation that Khanyisile built up in 2014 at Cape Town’s Thupelo workshop where she had different men use their lips – which had been painted red –to interact with red wool strings suspended in the air… “I work a lot with wool, since in history black women and children were lynched while being tied to a tree with wool strings. I had this idea of a strange fruit, that is, black people being a strange fruit in the world. As for the color, to most of us, red represents danger and menstruation. The lips are the first sexual point you have — they can

“The red lipstick was asking questions about emasculating black men in history of oppression and what that means for black female bodies. I wanted to see how they would open, feel the wool…”

become a kind of profanity, a place of hatred, sexual desire…” “On the one hand, we bleed monthly as a cycle of life; on the other hand, we bleed heavily and unexpectedly as the weakness black people felt under slavery, colonialism, apartheid… The recycled violence that such oppression plays out through race due to being colonized bodies is a continuous lynching at a generational level. This violence is so nuanced that you might actually miss it if you don’t pay enough attention. So a simple act as putting lipstick can be read as an act of remembering.”

“The red lipstick was asking questions about emasculating black men in history of oppression and what that means for black female bodies. I wanted to see how they would open, feel the wool… Would they lick it? Would they be intimate? Would they feel it like a vagina? Perhaps an invasive place? I wanted to see if they related to the idea of being a strange fruit. Some of them said I was taking their manhood by applying something so culturally feminine and feminizing such as red lipstick”.

Issue 11, December 2015 | 15

Reflections on the queer struggle in South Africa

“I may understand the importance of having a gay pride parade, but also, on the other side; we are perpetuating how people look at a particular group of people, a system of difference in sexual orientation. I understand it’s important to mobilize, but it needs to be in a way that something changes. Gay pride is giving a visual representation to someone who doesn’t understand the issue.” “In South Africa we especially have a problem of violence against black lesbians; some of them are raped and brutally murdered. Gay pride happens once a year in the city center, while most of the corrective rapes occur in the country side.” “I once made a recording of three of my friends who love other men and I was asking this question: ‘Are you a man when you love another man?’ ‘Do you become less of a man?’ Being gay doesn’t take away anyone’s manhood. It is said that gay men are more liberal-thinking, but in reality they are also under the effects of patriarchy. The gay man uses his identity in functioning the world identical to straight man, in a patriarchal way — provides financially, creates a stable home… A very conservative idea of what it means to be a man. Fascinating! People would decide, maybe, if a lesbian is more or less of a woman, or she is what they call more masculine, a butch, then she should act the role of what masculinity means in a hegemonic way. I think this fact is bizarre, because the whole point is to free yourself and achieve sexual freedom, despite we are abide by this very set rules that we are trying to remove from the hegemonic patriarchal understanding of the world.”

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Short Story

‘Unexpected’ Places By Brogan Luke Geurts.

walked into the office after lunch one afternoon, just like any other day, a little tired and a little hot thinking about what I needed to finish in the next few hours. As I walked into the smaller room most of us shared, I heard one of my female colleagues telling what was clearly an interesting story to a few others.

continued to vocalize her somewhat positive opinion. Although expected for the conversation to turn to a discussion about religion and ‘morality’ it turned purely to a discussion about human rights. A woman who I knew as a strong activist and one you really shouldn’t try and argue with; but also a woman who was one of the few Muslim women in the office who also wore a niqab when she went out. For most of my life people have continued to try and teach me that not only Muslim women but particularly Muslim women who wear a niqab, cannot support us as queers and definitely cannot be feminists. I always tried to resist and unlearn such ideas, yet I still remained a bit surprised to witness her conviction.

‘Unexp

She had recently just attended yet another training on data management. Somehow LGBT rights entered a discussion during the training, recognizing us as often forgotten about, which seemed to create a sort of epiphany for her. As the conversation progressed, it came up what she personally thought, in which she iterated, “Personally, it is not with my religion but they are humans and have human rights so we should protect them.” They should be able to live free, healthy, dignified lives. At the time it was about four months after I started a new internship in a Kenyan organization working with people who use drugs and with prisoners. I was only out to friends in distant countries. As the conversation turned, she argued a bit with both our male and female colleagues, including the other person who had attended the training. Yet she

18 | Issue 11, December 2015

er conviction became one the most profound and inspiring acts of love for myself personally; one that still deeply resonates with me today. I had found love in a place I honestly never expected. She was overtly breaking strict patriarchal and societal norms to show love even if it was “not part of her religion”, which in my mind is revolutionary. There were other colleagues who shared similar viewpoints, Muslim, Christian, men and women but none of them vocalized it in the same way.

It wasn’t the first time I had heard someone discuss LGBT, particularly gay and trans issues in the office. Even on my first day they were mentioned, but always connected to MSM, MARPS, HIV, sex work, data or an outreach target group; that was all, nothing more. For the first time I was hearing my colleagues discuss LGBT issues without that same stigmatizing context but in a purely human rights context. There was no sensational media story or neo-colonialist donor requirement prompting this discussion but it was of their own accord.

I was questioning at the time as well as my everchanging understanding of love, activism, solidarity, and (micro) revolutions. Finding that revolutionary love in such a place I didn’t necessarily expect gave me the confidence to be comfortable with who I am as a queer person. As queers we are often taught that we are inherently weak, sick, worthless, that our lives do not matter, that we are not vital, but this taught me to fight, resist and unlearn such ideas. As queers we possess a limitless amount of stories where we hoped to find love but rather found rejection, and although the opinion expressed wasn’t the most ideal, positive, or accepting it still felt revolutionary. It reminded me what I am fighting for, of my privilege, the importance of love, and that sometimes to look in ‘unexpected’ or even strange places.

pected’ A n the coming months this one conversation spurred further dialogue and recognition. Even though probably more rhetorical in their nature, some colleagues began to ask why are we were not doing more to support LGBT people or how we could be more inclusive. As a group practicing harm reduction with often those who are criminalized, I believe some could realize the deep impacts state violence and stigmatization has on those of us who are pushed to the fringes of society in one way or another. They knew that one must show unconditional love as the best means of support. They knew standing up for these individuals and rejecting societal notions is revolutionary, staying sensitive and not representing their experiences but letting them represent their own experiences is revolutionary.

fter that afternoon she became one of my closest friends. At times I would feel more comfortable being in the company of this “unexpected” love rather than that of my ‘accepting’ colleagues from European countries. I liked going to work even more. I remember contemplating coming out to my colleagues thinking that they wouldn’t really mind, that there was possibly space for my identity, but in reality I never really felt fully comfortable or secure enough to proudly declare my identity, as I should have.

It was months later that I fully realized what impact this had, two years later this single experience still stands out in my mind. In fact it would become one of the redefining moments of my own identity that

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Yes! Love said I am tired love said I no longer want to be defined within your mediocre lines I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to be just fine, justified I want you to be me, so that you can be you, so that we can be ecstatic, fascinated, surprised oh my so alive Love said I want you to be me so that you can be you

Love Said

A Poem and Photo by Rosabelle Illes

Poem

Amor a leumay pensa Amor a sinti Amor a comparti Amor a entrega su mes na un otro Amor a sacrifica su identidad pa abo conoce bo mes, amor den tres, amor robes, amor despues, para, amor dimes Marry me love said become me so it can never divorce me itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a part of me pause it is me I remember the shift of my entire entity when love got down on one knee smiled with one tear and asked will you become me? The ring was heavy took ten fingers to carry It contained my responsibility and with every infection came a lesson and the weight lessened My hands got lighter and my soul felt higher Infecting humanity and promising to keep love outside the rigid box till death do us part.

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Q&A

“Whether the Lion Wakes Up or Not.” A conversation between Régis Samba-Kounzi & Cynthia Ibo. Photos by Régis Samba-Kounzi. Translated into English by Abdou Bakah Nana Aichatou.

Régis Samba-Kounzi is a longtime LGBTI activist and a photographer in his soul. Active, discreet, and moving, he works with a rare talent and sensibility around the issues of identities, mainly: sexualities, gender, class, race, and parenthood. He lives between Paris and Kinshasa. Here he shares with us his latest project, Lolendo, about the lived realities of LGBTI persons in Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). 22 | Issue 11, December 2015

Claudia, Kimbanseke district, Kinshasa/DRC, 2015: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Some people say that homosexuality did not exist in Africa before colonization, others say that it existed and both sides have their arguments. Others say that homosexuality simply does not exist in DRC but when I look around me I see many Congolese homosexuals of all generations. I know without any doubt that it does not come from abroad.â&#x20AC;?

Issue 11, December 2015 | 23

Cynthia Ibo: When and how did you get the urge to do the Lolendo series in the DRC?

égis Samba-Kounzi: It is a project that dates back from a long time. It was born from a question I often asked myself: why when photographic works were documenting the lives of sexual and gender minorities in other countries this was not the case in the DRC, particularly in light of the increasing homophobic and transphobic climate in the country? Yet this is a subject that speaks of our time. It was an obvious subject to me so I took the challenge. I finally told myself that I had to do it, we should not wait for things to be done by others, and after all who can talk about our realities and problems better than us, the first concerned. Moreover, I wanted to enlighten

“This work is for me a way to address the issue of homosexual and transgender identity, rejection and exclusion but also the pride of the people; among the cacophony of homophobic speech”

24 | Issue 11, December 2015

where noone wanted to watch and silence those who say that homosexuality never existed on the African continent, or that it is the Westerners who allegedly imported it. We know little about our history simply because it is not taught, not transmitted. There was a real brainwashing that made us believe today that gays and trans black populations are considered to be from outside of Africa. This work is for me a way to address the issue of homosexual and transgender identity, rejection and exclusion but also the pride of the people; among the cacophony of homophobic speech under the guise of anti-imperialism and racist homonationalism remarks quick to stigmatize an entire continent. There are the lived realities of human beings that needed to be told. Lolendo is between politics and art, with the idea of the need to think, question and the urgency to act.

CI: How have you made and still making connections with the people you photograph? You would talk about an environment or you would rather say that there are lots of very different people in different spaces?

SK: I am an activist working on HIV/ AIDS issues and the rights of LGBTI from several years now – both outside and within organized spaces. It is through activism that I got involved with DRC’s LGBTI community networks. Associations such as Gay Malebo, PSSP and “Si Jeunesse Savait” etc. put me in touch with their members to whom I explained the goal of the project, and who agreed to participate. I naturally went to them because the struggle for the human

Belinda, Bandalungwa district, Kinshasa / DRC, 2015: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Saying that lesbians do not infect themselves seems necessary and sufficient. However, this statement is false and immediately closes the door on any discussion about prevention and health among lesbians. Fighting against discrimination, against subjugation to a patriarchal and homophobic society remains necessary because they are in part reasons why the lesbians escape the prevention speech. â&#x20AC;&#x153;

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rights of sexual and gender minorities are carried by the persons concerned in the first place. There were also meetings with different people in different spaces – people from nightlife, the artistic community, social networks, etc. CI: How is the visibility issue in a country where the news is dominated by a war where much of the violence is hidden or sparsely publicized? LGBTI people are visible in such context?

SK: The lack of visibility of the LGBTI communities is linked to the systematic homophobia that plagues the society. Just as the lack of media coverage of the violence against civilian populations in the Eastern part of the country reflects the disdain for the human rights of women, children and men. Sexual and gender minorities have realized that visibility is very important, even vital for their problems to be taking into account; move away from the position of victims and reconsider themselves - while keeping in mind that in world’s history, those in dominant positions have never surrendered their privileges out of generosity. By “coming out of the shadows”, homosexuals and transgender refuse to be subject to systematic paternalism when it comes to expressing themselves and strongly reaffirm their refusal of clandestinity and precariousness as a result of a homophobic policy increasingly sophisticated which allows a legal vacuum, adopting no law against homosexuality while leaving the homophobic speech develop in society, in public and religious debate. The visibility of gays reconnects with a long history of struggle for freedom and equality for social and political rights. Until now the authorized and lauder

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speech were only that of hatred; thus the Congolese society rediscovers recently in its street the reality of homosexuality and trans identity. The majority will never give us equality if we do not fight for it and this fight is done through visibility. Overall, it is clear that there is a growing interest in documenting the lives of LGBTI, decolonizing our bodies and minds by affirming our African identity, promoting the transfer of experience and the need to reconstruct homosexuality and trans identity’s collective memory, this is expressed with more and more insistence on the African continent.

IN KINSHASA, IT IS NOT AT ALL UNCOMMON TO RECOGNIZE AND MEET VISIBLE LGBTI PEOPLE WHO ASSUME THIS VISIBILITY AND DO NOT WISH TO HIDE. There are two types of

representation, one presented by the homophobes and another by the lgbti community itself. In the country, we have the “Molière” TV channel which regularly broadcasts stigmatizing reports made on the basis of denunciation with the complicity of the security forces and aim to catch people in the act of homosexuality. Those reports are similar to the Egyptian raids on homosexuals that have experienced a worrying peak in 2014 – an Egyptian journalist, Mona Iraqi, triggered one of those events; she filmed a scene for her weekly television program and congratulated herself for this “moral victory”. The practice and the comments caused an international outrage. In DRC, this is done every week in a surreal silence and scorn.

The politics do not create the conditions to avoid the stigma and violations of individual and private rights. Only associations feel disturbed and try to negotiate with these channels to prohibit such broadcasts but in vain for now. There are also more and more programs motivated by the TV ratings where people from the community get interviewed even if one still feels that they are presented as freaks. There is no program with a goal to educate and inform people from a real journalistic investigative work. According to a survey conducted in six provinces (Bas Congo, Katanga, Kinshasa, East, North and South Kivu) of the DRC by UNDP in September 2013, men who have sex with men (MSM) account for 28.8% of all the key populations (sex workers, intravenous drug users) surveyed, or 1,426,295 of the estimated size. They represent 1.9% of the general population. On average, the hidden MSM population is representative of 83% of the whole country, which means that the displayed MSM represent only 17%, and here we are not talking about the other members of the community living underground or underserved - that are the lesbians, bisexual, trans and intersex. Let things be clear once again, there is no injunction to coming out or visibility, much less on proselytizing, my purpose is to explain why it is desirable, particularly in terms of public health that people should not be in hidden. I do not deny that visibility could make more precarious the economic situation of certain category of gay or trans communities. If we consider the issue of class alone, not everyone has the living conditions that allows them to come out even if the threat is present. In DRC or elsewhere, coming

“There are also more and more programs motivated by the TV ratings where people from the community get interviewed even if one still feels that they are presented as freaks. There is no program with a goal to educate and inform people from a real journalistic investigative work.”

out and visibility are not the only way to exist and to live life fully. The univocal speech about visibility is problematic; there is no single story and I am well placed to know. CI: In this work in progress, have you made up your mind about the kind of portrait you want to do?

SK: I am only using the tools forged by the

activist movements that fed the expression of minority speech, the speech in the first person. It is about surfacing people’s lives and struggles over time and document the work of LGBTI activists who are pioneers in the DRC. Tell a visual story of the country’s

Issue 11, December 2015 | 27

sexual and gender minorities, a kind of archive of portraits. The complexity of the task lies in the fact that I realize my work in an intersectional approach which calls for combinations of gender, sexuality, class, urban or rural environment and race â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the portraits must adapt to all of these contexts. They will all be realised using the same procedure, front, side, back or three quarters particularly in order to protect the identity of people who do not wish to be fully visible.

CI: How does the VIH/AIDS question cross these visibilization issues?

SK: The stigmatization of lesbians, gay, bisexual, transgender and Intersex (LGBTI) results in discrimination in access to care and health even as the country is one of the most affected by HIV. LGBTI people are very vulnerable to HIV/AIDS due to the social marginalization they are subject to. To put it bluntly, there is no political will to allow better access to prevention and care against the HIV/AIDS, and promote human rights protection for all categories of population or to sensitize the society in that

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direction. In the current context, epidemiological figures reveal that

the prevalence of these communities is very important and worrying. Through having dragged the targeted actions toward these groups, we are in a concentrated type of epidemic, the problem has become important - we must conduct targeted interventions in specific communities.

Visibility becomes a public health issue; as long as LGBTI people will remain unrecognized, unprotected, without rights, without compassion, as should any human being â&#x20AC;&#x201C; a torrent of hatred and unbearable ignorance will continue to fall on them and keep them away from medical and health care. PSSP is the only structure that deals specifically with key populations (Gays, sex workers, intravenous drug users). CI: Are there festive places or associations that you would also like to show through these portraits?

SK: I want to show that

Kinshasa for example is a party town for LGBTI people; they are not left out when it comes to partying especially since the establishments

Véronica & Jeannette, Limete district, Kinshasa/DRC, 2015: “18 both, and as many LGBTI of Kinshasa, they now prefer to practice their faith among the Raelians who are open to homosexuality to avoid stigma. In the Congolese context religion is used to express one’s hatred of the others and of the difference be it in the traditional Christian churches or in the very popular and influential revivalist churches which convey an ubiquitous homophobic and transphobic and incredibly violent speech; it is therefore difficult to put one’s identity side. The need for a secure LGBTQI inclusive space has become vital for people who want to live their faith and spirituality in peace. “ Issue 11, December 2015 | 29

A night club of the capital, Kinshasa/DRC, 2015: There are many festive establishments in the DRC, they are intended for the heterosexual public but they are open and frequented by many gays and transgenders.

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Joseph, District of Bon Marché, Kinshasa / DRC, 2015: “I am a computer engineer. My biggest professional wish is to create my company and live out my dream of an Africa that is modernizing in order also to serve as a benchmark of success for young gays. I am part of Jeunialissime, a youth association struggling against discrimination (focus on LGBTI). We are your brothers, your sisters, your friends, husbands and wives, but we hide for fear of hurting you.”

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“I want to make visible the artists who by their gay friendly position boost a positive image of LGBTI people within the general population.” have realized that they were one of the best clients. In fact I want to show all the places where LGBTI people meet, be it social, festive, leisure spaces, associations, discussion groups, club and private circles, educational and cultural worlds etc. I want to make visible the artists who by their gay friendly position boost a positive image of LGBTI people within the general population.

Regarding the religious places for example; facing the violent rejection of evangelical and traditional churches I met LGBTI people who have faith and wish to be able to practice their faith in peace, they are turning to the Raelians who accept them as they are... It is important to document all this. CI: To conclude, it is a work in progress, so at the moment what do you need to continue your work in good conditions and give it greater visibility?

SK: The funding is a big headache. Right now I spend more time looking for support than taking photo, what a horror!

Until now I finance the project myself, in 2016 I will get subsidies that do not yet match the needs. Then there is the problem of the media that does not rush for now to give this work visibility, I guess that will happen... Finally, there is the question of safety that arises as well. There are already people who have advised that I do not to continue this work and contrary to what one might think these requests also come from the LGBTI community, people who are privileged and secure but are totally disinterested about minority rights. In Togo, there is an expression or veiled threat that says, “Do not wake up the sleeping lion”, it is used to deter LGBTI and MSM leaders who want to push the issue of LGBTI human rights through their advocacy work. The sleeping lion refers to Article 88 of the country’s Penal Code, which criminalizes homosexuality but is rarely implemented. The lion wakes up or not is not my problem, when one defends a just cause one does not care about the opinion of others, we act and that’s it. In any case, nothing will intimidate me; I will lead this work to the end.

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Essay

No More Lying… Text by Nickel. Translated by Caroline Blacky Mudingo Dipanda

hen I was 16, I was living fully a life of survival in a world I could not understand, and the world, so far, had served me well. At 40 years of age, it certainly took a long time to get there but today I fully embrace who I am. The ugly duckling grew up to become a beautiful swan or at least a duckling who accepts itself with pride when it faces this infected poultry. The rooster should crow while the hen should remain submissive. I said no to those pseudo rituals imposed by men who don’t know a damn thing about the daily life of animals like us. A life of lies, yes, that’s what you made us endure. Yes, a life of enduring rules we feel are made for others. Is it possible for someone who stands in a court to decide how people should love?

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This life of lies, I have lived it fully along with the lies. I lied to myself, to this girl I loved and who loved me back, to this boy who loved me and was loved by my family, to this family who loved a stranger. For, do they really know me? What would they think of me? What would my father say to my mother? My mother to my aunt, and the former, will she dare to tell me the truth about the words they used to define me?

I have lied with more or less success as those of my species would on a daily basis, though it always has its consequences, because survival imposed us to do so willy-nilly. So much so that I became pessimist, yes, in the face of this life with no prospect of happiness, a horizon with no sun, not even a moon. But to be pessimistic as I was during these two decades and a half wasn’t so bad. For the world thinks you have everything to be happy; youth, beauty, luck at school and successful with men... but I couldn’t care less about those men. I was screaming it in my dark and secret dreams, I

was dreaming only about them; beautiful, frail, gentle, smooth, sweet, delicate. I was longing only for them! I had everything to be happy and I was sometimes. For, when you always expect the worst to happen, then you know how to avoid it and you can see it coming a mile away. Alas this posture had us miss the best of it too along the way.

n my world everybody is a prince charming riding a white steed, who owns a castle in France inhabited by lords; some strange characters with various psychological personalities. The neurotic one would dream about it all day long, existing side by side with the depressed and forlorn lord who lost it long ago. Along the way, I met the paranoid who shielded himself away from everything, everybody and even love so that he became like his schizophreniac neighbor at times, who lives in it with his other self; lord during the day, courtesan at night. Surely, this CASTLE VALLEY was mostly inhabited by these last two devils; the pathological liar who would auction his, by means of illusion, to the dreamers who had the luck or misfortune to cross his path; and to finish with this overlapping of beings and personalities I introduce you to the pervert who rents his castle only to host depraved feasts, ephemeral moments, GomorrHaesque parties.

But today, at forty years old, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m free...free to scream my truth to the world, free to love the woman I want, to leave this world free. For,

beyond our bodies surviving and toiling, our souls too are dying because they do not dream, dare and shout their love. Today I am the one lending a

hand, an ear, a heart and more importantly a mouth for those who, like me, two decades and a half ago, felt lost and unloved. I am an activist I embrace it I stand by it. I fight for the freedom to love the woman or the man we want in order to be the woman or the man we truly are, for the women and the men who left this world unable to be their true selves, to ensure our souls and our bodies will never pretend again. Soldiers, present your souls. For our freedom to love is our revolution.

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Q&A

Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m a Fashion Addict Interview and Photos by Mariam Armisen. Translated into English by Gerard Casas.

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Q: HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR STYLE? A: I’d say I’m quite unpredictable

when it comes to fashion, as I’m a sucker for versatile style. Sometimes I want to look quirky, sexy, ladylike, or in other cases I simply go for a plain outfit.

Q: WHAT IMPACTS YOUR CHOICE FOR A PARTICULAR OUTFIT? YOUR MOOD, THE OCCASION? A: It usually depends on my mood.

There are times when I feel so good, feeling super active, that I just want to create a bad girl look. It’s usually about anything that springs to mind, ranging from boyish outfits to girly stuff… Sometimes I just want to look like a real minx.

Q: WHAT’S YOUR MONTHLY BUDGET? A: Well, in the past, I had a weekly

budget, but I’ve been trying to control myself lately. In the past, I could just go shopping whenever, as long as I had money in my pocket - and then I begun to realize that I was purchasing the same stuff twice without even noticing it. I’m in touch with some boutiques, so they always give me a ring whenever new styles arrive.

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Usually they see what comes in and put aside what they think might be my taste. If I’m not happy with their selection, then I don’t take it. If I like it, then I go for it!

Q: WHO IS YOUR FASHION ICON? A: I’m really versatile, so I have

several fashion icons. I usually follow Nicky’s trendy style, but right now I’m quite much sticking to Beyonce’s. I don’t actually blindly copy them, but I draw my inspirations from their styles. I don’t think I follow many African fashion icons. Maybe I would say the Beninese singer, Zeynab – I like the way she’s been dressing lately.

Q: WHAT DO YOU WEAR THE MOST FROM YOUR CLOSET? A: My jeans. Slim ones. I also have some skirts, but I’m not very fond of them. I prefer dresses, jeans, and shorts.

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Q: IF YOU HAD TO MOVE TO A DESERT ISLAND, WHAT WOULD YOU TAKE WITH YOU FROM YOUR CLOSET? A: An overall in jeans and a pair of

shoes.

Q: WHAT’S THE BIGGEST MISTAKE WE COULD EVER MAKE FASHION-WISE? A: There goes the fashion police in

me. I’d say a mix of many colours. There are some colours that should never be mixed; some colours simply don’t work together.

Q: WHAT GARMENT WOULD YOU NEVER PUT ON? A: I do wear ‘pagnes’, but it depends

on how they are tailored. I have my ‘pagnes’ tailored the way I like them - basically, copying ready-to-wear styles. I don’t think I’d ever wear a traditional one.

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Q&A

For Sizakele A Conversation between Yvonne Fly Onakeme Etaghene and Cynthia Ibo around Fly’s novel. Photos by An Xia and Suze Lusive

The wonderful Yvonne Fly Onakeme Etaghene is an Ijaw and Urhobo Nigerian dyke performance artist and activist with too much talent to mention: poetry, dance, acting, video… It’s a great pleasure for us to welcome her in Q-zine to speak about her first novel For Sizakele, which we strongly recommend. The book “addresses transcontinental identity, intimate partner violence, queer gender and how we love as illuminators of who we are”. You wrote For Sizakele over the course of years, how does the final product resemble the initial vision? The characters have evolved and grown in so many ways over the years. The essence of who the characters are is the same then and now, but the depth and complexity of them, as well as the story, deepened over the years, proportionate to my growth as a writer and my understanding of them. For me, writing For Sizakele was like knowing a person or a place-you get a feeling about who they or what they’re like from the beginning and over time, you learn more and

more about them, more than you could have ever imagined knowing from that initial meeting. Details and nuance of each character’s story unfolded and revealed themselves over the years. It’s my deep honour that these characters chose me to be the one to tell their stories.

Did you have to process some sort of grief once you finished the novel? Yes!! I kind of didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt a bit sad that I was done writing. It was surreal that this book that I’d been working on for over 14 years of my life was now

out in the world for others to read. These characters, with whom I’d developed these intense relationships with and understandings of, would now be a part of my readers’ lives. I felt exposed in this way--here is this book I’ve poured so much love into, here is my first born and I am sharing it with the world. I truly and deeply adore that so many people have and will get to know these characters and their stories. After my book was published, I dived into my book tour as well as other writing projects; that helped to reduce the sadness and also encouraged me to remember the importance of celebrating my book.

Could you tell us a little bit about For Sizakele ?

How have all your other activities—, poetry, dancing, performing nourished your novel-writing For Sizakele? Have these other activities also distracted you from writing your novel?

My beloved mum. Myself. Ntozake Shange. Chrystos. Jewelle Gomez. Ola Osaze. Octavia Butler. Audre Lorde. Zanele Muholi. Chinua Achebe. Jamaica Kincaid.

Nothing was a distraction. Everything I experienced, went through, and all the art I make were a part of writing my book--it all informed and enriched my writing. Because I express myself in so many art forms, each year I do choose to focus on certain projects so I complete the work I want to, rather than focus on everything and get a little bit of everything done.

Essentially Taylor, Lee and Sy are all figuring out how to be good to themselves and to each other. And many of their lessons come via love-how they love, how they like to be loved and what love means to them. For Sizakele also deals with identity on many levels (sexual, gender and national) and in many different ways.

Could you name some artists known or unknown that have influenced your writing of this novel For Sizakele?

I’m really moved by your poem “did you feel my shit?” It addresses how art could and should impact, move and change lives if it’s deeply received. Would you expand on that idea? I don’t write just to write. It’s not an exercise for its own sake. My art is about the expression of my spirit, is about addressing issues that matter to me, is about making space for the

stories, ideas, experiences of myself and of those who are rarely if ever center stage, i.e.: Queer Africans. The impact I want isn’t encapsulated in someone saying, “that was a pretty poem.” That really does absolutely nothing for me. I know it’s beautiful. Beyond that--what does my work do for you? Does it move you? Does it impact your soul? You life? What does art do for you? How has your favorite books, albums, art exhibitions changed your life? If you haven’t experienced a body of art that’s transformed your life, you’re not looking hard enough. Art is this magical space where we can show the world as it is and reflect it as we want it to be. I want my art to be something that you hold close, that inspires you to be your best self, that reminds you of the magic in this world, shows you the pain, and inspires you to live your best, most remarkable life. What else is art for, but for that?

What are you reading these days? I’m completing my Masters at the Gallatin School of Individualized Studies so most of my reading these days is for grad school. My program is: Fire Breathing: Performance Poetry As Social Commentary and Education. Currently I’m reading a lot of things, including Decolonising

Issue 11, December 2015 | 45

the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature by the amazing Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o. I’m also reading Grace: Notes on Survival by Chiedza Pasipanodya.

You started For Sizakele because you wanted to read that book,you couldn’t find. Have you since then found books that somewhat echo what you wrote in For Sizakele? No. I haven’t. I’m excited about books like Queer African Reader, edited by Sokari Ekine and Hakima Abbas, as well as Queer Africa: New and Collected Fiction, which was compiled and edited by Karen Martin and Makhosazana Xaba. I’m looking forward to diving into Diriye Osman’s Fairytales for Lost Children. Chiedza’s book (Grace: Notes on Survival) is also a deep inspiration to me. I haven’t found a book that brings together the intersections of issues that mine does. Which is part of why For Sizakele such an important and necessary book. And also why I look forward to writing and publishing more and more (and more!) books that address the issues that mean the most to me. The world needs complex, thoughtprovoking, inspiring books that focus on the beauty, pain and magic of Queer African lives, love, politics, experiences and perspectives.

About For Sizakele by Yvonne Fly Onakeme Etaghene Taylor, a queer Nigerian college

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student, is in a passionate relationship with Lee, a Black American basketball-playing pianist. When Taylor develops romantic feelings for Sy, a Cameroonian photographer whose similarities make them instant

family, Taylor battles Lee’s jealousy. As Taylor encounters challenges to her femme and African identities, she finds ways, through the kinship of her friends, to define herself on her own terms.

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Review

I Was There! A Revue of the 2015 Massimadi Film Festival, Montreal

By Lola Kamarizah, by Kevin Calixte, The Bao Huy Nguyen et Arc-en-ciel d’Afrique. Translation by ou Cynthia Ibo.

“Start Eating From The Edge”

will always talk about it with a smile and yet seriousness. Always. Because what happened in Montreal from the 17th to 28th of February was magical! I would even say amazing! The organizers of the international GLBTQ Afro-Caribbean festival kept me alive for 10 exciting nights. I went from laughter to tears, from joy to sadness, from excitement to discouragement and I came out of it stronger. Let me tell you: I wept because of nine-year-old Junior’s mom misunderstanding. This little black kid lives with his mother and his little brother in a Venezuelan favela and he dreams of having straight hair for his class picture. His mother forced him to look at her giving up her body to an unscrupulous boss to show her son, as the doctor told her to, what a relation between a man and a woman looks like. I also wept after watching “Le Retour” a short-film about the pain of an adolescent who discovered, while wandering in the streets on a rainy night, that the brother he worships is probably “a fag.” If the disappointment can be that heavy, what about when the same adolescent discovers this side of his identity?

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Alongside those favorites, I can’t forget the screening of “Woubi Chéri” This 1998 documentary about trans women in Abidjan (way before homophobic actions became popular in Africa) was followed by a very rewarding discussion with two trans women with different diasporic backgrounds, Solange from Rwanda and Suzanne from Mauritius. More than a simple experience, the movie “Stories of our lives” by Jim Chuchu is an amazing artistic and archival prowess done by young queer from Kenya. I admired and was fascinated by the way in which the beauty of nature was animated in a black and white editing. The selection of films for the opening was also excellent. “L’autre femme” a movie by Marie Ka, just made you want to see more. If you are reading this Marie, please, make us experience again the colors, the sounds and the scents of this delightful feminine and generational eroticism – shared by these two Senegalese co-wives. The crowd from the opening night warmly welcomed the movie “Black Bird” during which the director Patrick Ian-Polk was present. A cool moment compared to the temperature outside

Massimadi 2015 also had some enlightening documentaries like “History Must Not Repeat Itself “ by Stéphane Gérard, “Global Gay” by Remi Lainé , or some more troubling ones like “ In The Night” – about four black lesbians who were unjustly imprisoned for aggression while, in fact, they were defending themselves against the violent and homophobic attacks from a stranger. “To remember, To dream and To plan” that was the Festival’s theme. Outside the screenings there were a lot, lot, lot of talking. We talked about visibility of black LGBT people in cinema with no less than seven panelists including: filmmakers, sociologists, actors, photographers and state officials. It just shows that we should not hesitate to take our own camera and give shape to our ideas. The black community is not uniform, the LGBT community either. But, who can bring out the complexity of our universe, if it’s not us?

ith Maitre Michel Togue, a Cameroonian lawyer and honorary president of the Festival, we were outraged at the injustice suffered by LGBT population in Cameroon. How to act? Through education. It begins with family members who are closely connected with those living elsewhere. The screening of Marlon Riggs’s “Tongues Untied,” followed by a discussion with the American artist Doug Locke and Canadian activist Peter Flegel, also touched our souls and recalled the importance – and it can’t be said too often – to be oneself and never put your head down: black man love black man, black woman love black woman. Did I mention the gigantic closing night? I know some people who danced their ass off at the “Afro Queer Mafia Party.” I only talked about the most impressive moments. The whole Massimadi 2015 program is still available here.

During a panel, one of the speakers approximately said something like “The gay and transgender issue is like a big hot pie. To make people accept your difference, one have to start eating from the edge and don’t rush to go to the center or somebody’s gonna burn inevitably”. With Massimadi, the non-profit Arc-en-Ciel d’Afrique already ate a big part of its edge. In Brussels too, the black LGBT community started to eat from the edge in May 2011 with the Massimadi Brussels Festival. All the info is here. I can’t wait for more initiatives like this so that African and Afro-diasporic LGBT culture lives! Let’s meet again next February in Montreal. I’ll be there.

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Photography

Tightrope Walkers Text by StĂŠphane SĂŠgara & Photos by Mariam Armisen. Translated into english by Gerard Casas

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Weaving in and out of the streets of OUAGA bikes, motorcycles, loading or delivering their produces.

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Their ability to seamlessly move through Ouaga’s valleys despite their own « loads», that’s what makes me call them « tightrope walkers ».

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Their ÂŤ loads Âť carry the future of their children, the well-being and the financial stability of their families, of their country.

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Poem

Sestina of My Life A Poem by Gayle Bell. Photo by Mariam Armisen.

I’ll be ready for death when grinning skins catches me Till then I’m gonna live each ounce of life like the Lord gave me a pound Now in the life- I chase holy truth until closures made clear Past floods of regrets before me clear Times in fools haste I mated death until Angels revealed truth The love of women embrace me saved me from addictions relentless pound returning to me now precious life When societies judgments of my life is a maze I hack with rapier pen and mind’s focus clear Zealots screech my guilt before Revelation’s final hammer pound I & mine march till the last breath’s hiss of death “This is my life you don’t rule me” “My life, my immovable truth” What’s done in the dark the light will shine the truth was my Aunt Berta’s grim proclaiming of life

In my youth-full impatience, this gift eluded me She would smile a knowing deep within eyes no longer clear at the hour of her death my hand she grasped welcoming her heart’s final pound I walk urban quick, quick sidewalk pound aware the rocky path was walked before me-loving in the truth I will love women beyond the stillness of my flesh’s death Rainbow parades and Kente cloth interweave my life no time for label’s rigid directions I walk clear insight forged from the fire of being me Present days find me full from her kiss in my soul she does pound Welcome tears that washes past hurts clear Once I ran, I now claim this cultural truth Bulldagger, In the life now, until 100 past the hour of my death I will live in truth all my life until death

Q&A

Calabash Is My Specialty A brief conversation with Joe, musician, rapper and slam poetess from Burkina Faso Text by Mariam Armisen. English translation by Anthony Blanquer

WHAT IS YOUR MUSICAL GENRE?

y name is NIKIEMA N. Georgette, also known as Joe by my fans.

I started music in 1996 with my first band called BAOBAB; the band split in 2000 when the career of the lead signer, Francky took another direction. That’s how I found myself a solo musician. In 2004, I decided to release my first album; around the time of my father’s death. I went to the studio then but I released the album in 2009; it was called “Pag bass yé”, a 10-track album. Since then I work solo, but every now and then I get involved in different other projects with local and even international artists – sometime contemporary dancers would request that I accompany their performances.

I do slam and a bit of rap. It’s easier for me to spread [my message], especially if it’s important messages and with traditional instruments. I play guitar as a hobby but not on stage. The calabash is my specialty because I always wanted to play the calabash; it’s an instrument that is very soft to go play with – there’s no word to describe it.

HOW DOES THE CALABASH SOUND LIKE?

When one plays calabash, you can’t help but stop and pay attention. No matter who you are, it’s an instrument that strikes you, saying: “listen to me, I play to please you”.

THE SLAM IS IN WHICH LANGUAGE?

When I slam it’s in Mooré, in French and sometime in Dioula but I don’t speak Dioula well, so I use friends’ guidance.

GENERALLY SPEAKING WHAT IS YOUR MUSIC ABOUT?

My second album, which was release in May 2014, titled “Fils” [“Son” in english] is about the current political situation in the Sahel. The title track, “Fils

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du désert” [“Son of the desert” in English], it is about what is happening inside Sahel because of our natural resources and the problems they brought up. Since we have corrupt governments only thinking of themselves, we are sold out to the highest bidders and our natural resources have become weapons used against us. So when you look in Africa in the regions where there are wars, more diseases, more problems, you find out there is petrol, there is uranium, there is gold, there is diamond. That’s why I called [the first track] the son of the desert.

he second track is about the situation of housemaids – the abuses they experience where they work. When you write a song, you take the time to really investigate. A song without a message, it’s useless. So every track I write, there’s always something behind it.

SO YOUR MUSIC IS A SOCIAL CRITIC? Yes it is – I’m not afraid to say what I see.

YOUR MUSIC IS FEMINIST ALSO THEN? ARE YOU AN ACTIVIST? (Laughter) Yes I believe my music is for everybody.

AS A FEMALE RAPPER AND MUSICIAN IN BURKINA WHAT’S YOUR TAKE ON MUSIC SCENE?

At the moment we are surviving. If you don’t have another occupation, you can’t make a living from your music.

AND THE PLACE OF WOMAN IN THIS SCENE…?

It’s tough. The word “woman” as such is already a problem, not to mention female rapper and slam artist – that make matters worse.

The tracks in the second album cover many issues. For example, there is a song about the servant-secretary; sexual abuses perpetuated against secretary in many offices.

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DO YOU COMPOSE YOUR MUSIC YOURSELF? IN WHAT SENSE?

In every sense because no matter what a woman is going to do, there’s always someone who is going to frustrate you, to have their say, to provoke you. You have to strong minded and never give anybody a chance to make a fool of you; this is my philosophy.

TELL ME MORE ABOUT THE DUO IN THE ALBUM…

The duo is with Sandrine [Another female rapper], it’s about the sexual abuse that women working as secretary in offices are suffering from – there are a lot of men who are taking advantage of that, as if secretaries were hired for their sexual pleasure, as if they were paid for that. Some secretaries give-in because they don’t have any choice; some risk their professional career by rejecting or refusing this sexual harassment or abuse. However, some women use this into their advantage. Our song speaks to the women who have a choice to take a stand against this. These abuses must stop! The moral and psychological price is too high on the victims.

Yeah and on top of that I do some research to get the best match style-wise. No matter if it’s slam, rap or Manding, I also look for the instruments that will match the lyrics.

WHAT IS THE LANGUAGE YOU ARE THE MOST COMFORTABLE WITH TO COMPOSE?

French. French is like Mooré here because even in the most remote village, everybody tries to speak French. If the text is fully in French, I manage to slip two or three words in Mooré, summarizing all we are saying in French, so that the peasant and the villager can also understand the song.

WHAT IS THE GENERAL VIEW ON FEMALE RAPPER IN BURKINA?

Nowadays you can say it modernizes itself a little bit. They pretend to leave room for us, but I remember in the beginning you were called a junkie, a looser, the name calling you could experience! It was really frowned upon. It was like back in the day how people view a woman in the army or police forces; it has evolved a bit today.

DO YOU THINK THERE IS A FUTURE?

There is a future and I find there is some evolution in this matter.

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Q-ZINE is going to the Movies Be on the lookout for our next call for contributions!

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Essay

Exquisite Labor Pains By Valérie Bah, photo by Akin Otomoso. The photo is a still shot from the movie “Jesus and the Giant” by Akin Otomoso

“Brothers and Friends, (…)I want Liberty and Equality to reign in Saint Domingue. I am working to make that happen. Unite yourselves to us, brothers, and fight with us for the same cause.” Your very humble and obedient servant, Toussaint Louverture. General of the armies of the king for the public good.

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don’t whimsically rewrite history or incite the audience to laugh.

Blood on the streets

The cordiality in this Haitian revolutionary’s letter chills me. It contradicts a salient fact: Haiti’s narrative of independence is fraught with violence. Night raids. Decapitated slave masters. But the gore was not an unprovoked or isolated phenomenon. In the late 1700s, the cruelty of the slavery on the island of Saint Domingue (present-day Haiti) spawned abortions and infanticides by mothers who refused to birth children in hell. Yet the brutality of the slave revolts takes after the French Revolution, which also inspired the American Revolution, and was replicated in other parts of the world by an educated and

thirsty critical mass of citizens who had nothing to lose. Often, bloodshed stands in for revolution.

Violent, cathartic iconography

In the audio-visual realm, I recall the female protagonist in Akin Omotoso’s film Jesus and the Giant (2008), who bludgeons a male abuser in retribution for her battered friend. More wanton, rapper Sid the Kid in her music video for “Fastlane,” speeds down a highway gunning down men with her same-sex love interest. Both emerge from homoerotic protective instinct. Are these images merely meant to shock? In any case, they join a long line of revenge fantasies, elevated from the ranks of Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained, because they

1. “Lilith,” is an apt reference to the biblical character who thwarted men for the liberty to do things her way.

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Fight or flight

Novelist Marlon James imagined Lilith1, in The Book of Night Women, a green-eyed house slave as a force of nature, who runs on fear and instinct. Lilith’s life is defined by violence, backbreaking labor, rape, yet she remains fierce. She strikes when backed into a corner. Ironically, a love affair with a tender master subverts her natural strength. Given the oppression implicit in their relationship, it’s a confusing love. Eventually, their love is so confusing that it undermines her goal of abetting a slave revolt. Their fondness is anathema to a freedom that must be delivered painfully.

ichard Wright explores this painfully-delivered freedom in Native Son, through Bigger Thomas, a black boy who works

for a white family. The family’s matriarch nearly catches him in her daughter’s room—a proximity that is tantamount to rape in the America that murdered Emett Till. While silencing the daughter with a pillow, Bigger accidentally suffocates and kills her. This irreparable damage sets Bigger running in cold sweat from the authorities, from White Supremacy. But for a moment, he’s free. Here we have the portrait of a man whose environment will not let him live, unless he fights back or preemptively. Yes, it is centered in rage. But who bore such a vessel for destruction? In introducing the novel, Wright admits to an uncanny motivation. Referencing his first, tamer novel, “Uncle Tom’s Children,” he said, “I found that I had written a book which even bankers’ daughters could read and weep over and feel good about. I swore to myself that if I ever wrote another book, no one would weep over it; that

it would be so hard and deep that they would have to face it without the consolation of tears. It was this that made me get to work in dead earnest.”

Calm down

We’re told that anger is an unproductive emotion. Wright’s white contemporary Katherine Ann Porter’s expressed her horror at him and his peers, “I can’t read them. I’m so tired of all that hatred and poison. They’ve all had such horrible lives—such horrible experiences—that it’s left them with dreadful minds. James Baldwin, I think he was insane.2” What exactly bothered Porter, whose career spanned the US’ civil rights movement; was art exclusively meant to beautify, to coddle?

wonder if there is a masochistic kind of love in violence and whether that violence is the first spark of social conscience. If so, it is the kind that rips you from indolent existence toward consciousness. As Audre Lorde said, “The learning process is something you can incite, incite like a riot.” Yes, it hurts. But it’s also damned good for you. Does the banker’s daughter cry for you? We thrive on beauty, not the saccharine. Love, rather than sentimentality inspires transformation. From time to time, passion forges a path toward revolution.

2. Givner, Joan. Katherine Ann Porter: Conversations. University Press of Mississipi.1987

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Q&A

We Have to Be Seen AND Heard An Interview by Cynthia Ibo, photos by Claire Obscure

Living in France, Claire Obscure is an afrofeminist activist and a multitalented artist â&#x20AC;&#x201C; a musician, painter, photographerâ&#x20AC;Ś Here, she generously shares with us about the latter, and explains her journey as a photographer. She tells us about her taste for images and how minority and decolonial representations through images are crucial issues.

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Cynthia Ibo: How would you define yourself? As of now, do you live your art spontaneously or through projects? Claire Obscure: I would like to define myself as an artivist. I am fond of art and I’ve always appreciated art of any form - photography, video, music, painting, etc. I see myself as an art lover and an activist who tries to create. I am also a member of the afrofeminist collective Mwasi, based in Paris where I also try to bring what I know and share skills with my sisters. My mother was born in Cameroon; my father is a white French man. It matters for my work. I have many projects, in photography and other fields – I’m being patient, as I know it will take some time to realize them all.

CI: When and how did you begin photography? CO: I think it was when I touched a camera for the first time. I immediately grasped the artistic possibilities. TO ME, PHOTOGRAPHY IS MUCH MORE ABOUT INTENTION THAN THE EQUIPMENT OR

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TECHNICALITIES. It’s about wanting to share one’s perspective of the world. It is very personal. As a child, I was amazed by my father’s Polaroid camera. I knew what I wanted to capture. And the result was almost immediate. Later I got my first digital camera and I’ve been taking photographs “in the moment”. On one hand, I feel the need to capture the beauty of someone or a landscape and on the other hand, the necessity to document events through a more social and political approach. Often it’s both.

CI: You have a few blogs, one is called “BeautésMinoritaires”. What was the idea behind it? CO: I have several blogs dedicated to images and each serves a “decolonial” purpose. On my main blog, I share my own photographs. On BeautésMinoritaires, I share photographs that are not mine but which play their part in decolonizing our visual culture and enhance self-love. The title of the blog is “Representation Matters: the Forgotten Faces and Bodies of white supremacist capitalist patriarchy”. It is a

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reference to Bell Hooks. MY IDEA WAS TO CREATE ANOTHER SPACE TO CELEBRATE THE BEAUTY OF PEOPLE FROM MARGINALISED GROUPS AND PEOPLE DEFYING WESTERN BEAUTY STANDARDS AND HETERONORMATIVITY. It was the first step I took before questioning my own visual culture and the stereotypes that I unconsciously reproduce through my photographs. My last blog is a collection of beautiful images of people of African descent in fantasy and sci-fi, fields which we are unfortunately very often erased from.

CI: You also paint. What can you tell us about it? CO: I started painting quite recently. I immediately liked it. I still get to work with light and colours, but different from photography. I draw too and Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m trying to find a way to make the different media work together in harmony and in a coherent way.I recently participated in a six handed mixed-media live painting, it was a great experience.

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CI: As a photographer what would you say about the issues of representation for queer people of African descent in France?

CI: How about exoticization? Is it something you fear in the way people can approach and appropriate your work?

CO: I think it is important to be able to control this representation, pay attention to its quality because it’s not only about quantity. Who takes the pictures? Of whom? For whom? Who is benefiting from it? What messages does it convey? To me, being visible may be a piece of the puzzle that is emancipation. So it’s a good thing in a society so visual, but the stakes of representation are often beyond us. In the last centuries, visual content took a great part in oppressive propagandas, and we can legitimately wonder to what extent can it be a part of the solution. We have to be seen AND heard. Too often the former outweighs the latter.

CO: I shared my first series of portraits of black women on my blog, and among my street and nature photography and other portraits, this particular series achieved great success. I didn’t expect that at all. I couldn’t help wondering: was it the scarcity of representation (exoticism) or the quality of representation (empowerment)? I guess the fear of manipulation and appropriation of my work has always been there, it is inevitable but I refuse to stop creating because of this fear. It took me long enough to define myself as an artist, so I don’t need any more obstacles on my path.

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Q&A

Reflection of the Soul Interview by Cynthia Ibo, photos by Pauline Nâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Gouala. English translation by Alice Vrinat

The Franco-Congolese painter Pauline Nâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Gouala creates unquiet canvasses that challenge the world. Famous peoples, icons or anonymous. Emblems of black culture. South African victims of lesbophobia like Busi and Buhle. Other artists like Nina Simone or Basquiat. Whether this is Frantz Fanon or Zanele Muholi, Pauline gives them the eternity of her particular oil painting, her hands and her gaze.

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My name’s Pauline N’Gouala, I’m

29 and I am an oil painter on the side. I do portraits. I’m currently enrolled in a stained-glass art training.

I’ve been drawing since I was a child. I would copy the comics and cartoons characters, and I kept doing that until I was an adolescent. I started with Chinese ink and that’s how I learned how to paint. One day, I made a portrait of my ex in Chinese ink and she told me “you should paint.” And now, it’s been 5 years since I’ve been doing oil paintings. I mainly do portraits. I started locally in my city Plaisir, in Yvelines, where the municipality allowed me to exhibit for few months in a concert hall. Later, I had an exhibition in Paris. Some time after that, I met Zanele Muholi at a conference, and she suggested that I do a portrait of her and some victims of lesbophobic crimes, which allowed me to combine my art with activism. Shortly thereafter, a special evening on South Africa was held at the Festival « Elles résistent » and through partnership with LOCs (Lesbiennes of Color), I exhibited this series of portraits at that event. Then there were other opportunities like Afropunk in Paris.

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CYNTHIA IBO: WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO CAPTURE WHEN YOU PAINT? I always start with the eyes because I’m used to, and I also think they are the reflection of the soul. It is through portraits that I express my humanism in the sense that we are all the same and at the same time all different. In the eyes, each one will feel something different, that too I find interesting. I feel like I’m kind of doing a transfer and that I’m unloading some emotions in order to feel lighter. I start with the eyes and I don’t work on them that much; it happens by itself, that’s the mystic aspect of painting.

CI: AND WHEN IS IT DONE? Since I have a model it’s a bit easier to figure out more or less where I want to go. It’s never 100% identical but there’s a feeling that tells me I’m right where I ought to be. I don’t alter my paintings months later, it is quite instantaneous.

CI: WHEN YOU’RE PAINTING DO YOU HAVE FUN, DO YOU EXPERIMENT?

Painting is one of the things I prefer doing. When I paint, I don’t think about anything else. I’m in my bubble, my little world… Maybe in some way I take shelter there. But sure, I have fun. I experiment sometimes. I did two paintings where instead of the usual brick walls I put pink color: I wanted to do a set of LGBT artists so I did a painting of Keith Harring, and the photographer Estelle Prudent. Obviously it makes me happy. I don’t think about what’s going to be said about it. I just wonder “Am I happy with the results? Do I feel like what I did was good?” And I feel great about having a talent for something because I am not particularly qualified. I don’t have a job that gives me pleasure so at least I have painting.

CI: AND YOU DID THE PORTRAIT OF FRANTZ FANON QUITE EARLY, DIDN’T YOU? Frantz Fanon was one my first paintings. I was very young when I discovered Afro-American and African leaders like Patrice Lumumba. Since I had a new mode of expression, which was oil painting, I wanted to capture

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them. And it was my first sale, I’m actually proud of it. I have not read all his work but I’ve been through psychiatric institutions so I understand what he did for the psychotic patients in Algeria. He freed them, and I am touched by his battle. It’s this dimension that moved me.

CI: DO YOU PAINT STRANGERS AND WELLKNOWN PEOPLE THE SAME WAY?

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I don’t necessarily need to know the people but I need to feel close to them anyway. For instance, I felt something really strong when I painted Jean-Michel Basquiat. I felt close to him. I think it doesn’t make a difference if I know the person, like an ex or a good friend. Or someone like Zanele. I am focused on the portrait, the color harmony. However there is also a strong emotional connection when it’s about victims. First you realize it could have been me and

then you realize it’s an endless struggle. As you are doing these paintings, Zanele keeps sending pictures because new victims are being added to the list. You then become aware of the extent of the scourge, and it scares you. And you think that if you can denounce this evil and show the extent of homophobia, then you’re using painting for a noble cause. And, you want to keep doing it - if it can raise awareness. Although we’re talking about homophobia in South Africa, but it’s still a reality in France.

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It’s true that in general I get solicited from LGBT people or black communities, or both, but that’s no problem for me because they are part of my identity and I fully accept it. I don’t feel like I’m getting lost.

CI: DO YOU HAVE ARTISTS IN YOUR FAMILY? When I was young I saw the drawing of one of my uncles. I saw it at my grandmother’s place and he sketched it when he was young. I precisely remember thinking, if a child could do that, so could I. I was six years old, and that’s when it clicked: drawing and really focusing on it. I could be at once hyperactive and I could spend hours by myself working on a drawing without pissing anybody off. In my family noone is really an artist, but everyone supports me and comes to my exhibit when they can, they also buy materials for me because it’s expensive. It’s really nice of them. For my first exhibit in the Yvelines, there were so many people from my family in attendance and I was really touched. I felt that they were proud of me and that they supported me, which is awesome.

CI: WHO ARE YOUR INFLUENCES? I don’t have a huge artistic background. I am autodidact. I do like to go to an exhibition from time to time. My favorite painters are Monnet, Frida Kahlo, Modigliani (who I painted) and Basquiat, (he’s my chouchou). I’m also drawn to photography. I’m a big fan of movies. I listen to lots of music and by the way, back then everything that was afro-centric, the famous black leaders – I actually knew them through reggae because no one talks about Frantz Fanon at school. I am also inspired artwork by my buddies, etc.

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STREET ART IS REALLY IMPORTANT TO ME AND I THINK IT’S ESSENTIAL TO URBAN LIFE, WHICH CAN BE DULL – MY DREAM WAS ACTUALLY AT SOME POINT TO PAINT A WALL. In the

beginning, I couldn’t think about anything else when I would see a wall, I would project a giant portrait on it.

CI: WHAT CAN WE WISH YOU FOR THE FUTURE? I’d like to have the opportunity to have a studio. I’m going to keep on painting. In my mind, I even see portraits in stained glass and paintings on glass. For that, I would need a studio. Also, as I told you before, I sent my application for a festival in 2016. That’s the great part of painting, you never know what to expect and it’s always full of surprises.

PAULINE N’GOUALA’S FAVORITE PLAYLIST WHEN PAINTING Miles Davis “Flamenco Sketches \ So What” Duke Ellington “Fleurette Africaine” Ashanti feat Ja rule “Down 4 You” Total feat Missy Elliot “What About Us” Koffi Olomidé “Elle et Moi” Gregory Isaacs “Hot Stepper” The Organ “Brother” The Police “Darkness”

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Short Story

Wings of Love By Gayture. English translation by Gerard Casas.

er appearance, her pace, her hair, her look, her body, her clothes! I’m under her spell.

She is so beautiful, but how could I get to talk to her? I’m scared! Would she take it badly? My heart is beating so fast… I’m afraid she may not like women flirting with her, or she may be part of those who do not tolerate me, those who are against homosexuality. I’m afraid she’ll reject me. I start to sweat and shake, and then my heart starts beating faster. I can’t take my eyes off her. I take a deep breath, I keep staring at her for fifteen more minutes and, finally, our eyes meet. I wink my eye as I give her

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a shy smile. She answers back flashing a wonderful smile. That’s when I feel two wings pop out of my back and decide to head off to her table. She greets me with a radiant smile. I introduce myself, and so does she. I tell her how lovely, beautiful and gorgeous she is – in short, I praise her beauty and the way it was making me feel. She is all smiles. I feel good, so I ask her if I can get her a beer – and she says yes! We have a nice chat and right then, right before going our separate ways, I ask her for her telephone number, which she agrees to give me right away. I’m so happy. One day later. I can’t wait to give her a call to ask her out on a date. She accepts. We meet up at the restaurant at 8pm, as planned. I feel so dazzled when she turns up, not only because of her beauty but rather her elegance! We chat for a while and then, when I let her know my feelings and tell her I want to go out with her, she looks into my eyes and says: « yes ». I’m over the moon, I want to kiss her. That moment brings me back to the reality we are facing: a society that will beat me up if I pursue my desire. After dinner, I offered to give her a ride home on my bike. I feel a delicious shiver as she puts her arms around my waist, I can’t wait to kiss her! Once in front of her place, as she gets off the bike I pull her towards me and I kiss

her in the dark of her courtyard. When our lips touch, a delightful thrill runs through my body. I don’t want this moment to end, but we have to stop it before anyone can see us. I get back home feeling happy. I’ve just declared my love to a charming lady who has accepted! I love her so much that I would do anything with her. I would walk as we hold hands, kiss her anytime. I would go and tell my parents I’ve found a nice girl that I love and want to spend the rest of my life with.

nyway, I’ve never been able to face the challenge of coming out to my parents. They still look forward to having a son-inlaw and some kids around. But tonight, I’m determined to defend this beautiful love that I feel for Samiratou, because it’s my right, it’s my life. I want to share my life with the one who makes my heart beat. I want to live this love in sickness and in health. I will face up to all obstacles: my parents, society… for them to understand what I really am. Because I just want to experience love without having to hide anymore.

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Music

Jan an Yé

A Song by OZe’N and Why’z Panthera Photo by GPHOZ. English translation by Abdou Bakah Nana Aichatou.

The song “Jan an yé” was collectively written by OZe’N and Why’z Panthera . It was in November 2014 that OZe’N discovered Bokantaj evenings RPAMC De Profundis . They met there with Why’z Panthera . A few months later, “Jan an yé” was co - written . It’s a very personal message that OZe’N first addresses to their mother and ultimately many more. They will never change for anyone whateverIssue the11,cost. December 2015 | 95

Original version in Creole:

Si an té sav i té ni kondisyon an té ké vin adan vant a on dôt... Ou fè mwen alé Si mwen lé viré Fo an yé Jan ou lé An té ja sav nou té ké goumen pas an pa ni asé valè douvan konviksyon ou ka nouri An té ja sav ou pa té ké konprann sé pa chwazi an chwazi jan an yé Si an pyébwa té pé viv san rasin an té ké yé jan ou lé Mé ou té sav sa pé’é rivé alós... Ou fè mwen alé Si mwen lé viré Fo an yé Jan ou lé An té ké enmen vwè kritik a moun glisé kon dlo si fèy a lanmou-aw Ou lé chanjé mwen é ou ka réklamé an enmè-w kon solèy an mwen Dépi ou palé ban mwen sé kolè ka monté andidan mwen Alè an ka pati fè chimen an-mwen fo ou sav Ou fè mwen alé An pé ké viré Mwen pé pa yé Jan ou lé Ou té lé mwen mè lè ou vwè mwen ou di an pa modèl timoun ou té komandé Ou té lé mwen alè ou pa lé mwen mè an pé pa chanjé pou fè-w plézi Tousa ou pé rivé fè sé lagé lidé-aw an pé pa pèd nanm an-mwen, alós Ou fè mwen alé An pé ké viré Mwen pé pa yé Jan ou lé

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English version: If I had know that there were conditions I would have come from the belly of another You push me aside I will not come back I cannot be As you want me to be I already knew that we would quarrel because I do not match your convictions I already knew that you would not understand that I did not have the choice to be who I am If a tree could live without roots I would be what you hope that I would be But you knew that would not happen, so... You push me aside I will not come back I cannot be As you want me to be I wish your love is stronger than the rest You want to change me and claim at the same time that I love you blindly When you speak itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s anger that rises in me Now I make my way, so... You push me aside I will not come back I cannot be As you want me to be You wanted me but I do not match your expectations You wanted me but today you reject me But I cannot change to please you All that remains is for you to abandon your ideals, I cannot lose my soul, so ... You push me aside I will not come back I cannot be As you want me to be

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Q&A

Lez Ka-lour! Text and artwork by Kawira Mwirichia

My name is Kawira Mwirichia. I was born and raised in Nairobi, Kenya. I love creating things, and right now that side of me is finding its expression through creating visual art. I’m also a part of an arts organization here called AFRA-Kenya.

AFRA-Kenya

AFRA-Kenya is a LBQ women’s art organization that is based in Nairobi, and its name is actually an acronym for “Artists For Recognition and Acceptance – Kenya. It was started in November, 2008, by a group of women who realized that the conversation being had then around sexual health and rights in Kenya focussed almost exclusively on the men’s interests, and that the LBQ women’s welfare wasn’t really getting the attention it needed. So AFRA-Kenya was basically formed as a space for LBQ women to meet, grow, heal, and express themselves. Thus the focus of its activism and dialogue tends to be the sustained flourishing of the LBQ woman as an individual, and I feel that it’s from this focus that the colouring book “Lez Ka-lour!” was birthed.

About “Lez Ka-lour!” To enjoying our sex. Our selves And our lives. Unreservedly.

AFRA-Kenya was planning to hold an art auction as an exciting fundraiser this past Halloween (which it did) and a bunch of us were brainstorming about what to have up for sale. The colouring book idea came up as a fun, easy-to-produce, cost-effective item that our audience would love to have – and use – to affirm and celebrate their sexuality. The first ten copies of the book were sold at the auction with all the proceeds from the sales going to AFRA-Kenya. The people in attendance just absolutely LOVED it and I’ve been selling copies ever since. I’ve even set up a CreateSpace e-store where people can now buy the book from wherever they may be in this world. You can also find the book on Amazon, and just recently Venus Envy Halifax (in Canada) let me know that they’ll be stocking copies of the book as well!

Future plans

I feel that both I and AFRA-Kenya are just getting started and that there will be so much more amazing work coming from us, for us. We are already looking at putting together another book on erotica, and we’re also working on a project called “To Revolutionary Type Love”. The project is already underway and seeks to celebrate queer love and individuals and – consequently – instil a deeper, more unshakeable sense of love and pride in the queer community starting here in Kenya. Additional links: http://kalacompany.com/ https://www.createspace.com/5912383 https://www.facebook.com/lezkalour/ Issue 11, December 2015 | 99

‘Cause I Love You A poem by Mariane Amara English translation by Patrice L

Poem

‘Cause I love you and you love me The witch hunt’s on and they foretell For our sin the flames of hell ‘Cause I love you and you love me In this sad world there’s no refuge To scarecrows for ever windswept Facing abuse and disrespect ‘Cause you love me and I love you We make believe in crowded streets Eluding hands in terror Reich They hurl insults like « dirty dykes » ‘Cause I love you and you love me So I suffer but keep silent And must shudder silently Lest you grow weary and distant ‘Cause I love you and you love me Why prove them right ? Why always cede To unfair law ? Why live in fear ?

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Wat’s in our love that’s an offense, With due respect, to moral sense ? Today I want to rise with you Come and shout out, die joyfully Since our love cannot be mute ‘Cause I love you and you love me Oh ! Today you will hold my hand Yes, today I will dance for you Then i will be circled by them And my arms will reach out for you We’ll see if they set all ablaze If they throw stones at me, at you. Today I’ll answer Yes I will I will until death do us part ‘Cause I love you and you love me My sister, my friend, my sweetheart My baby, my man, my lover For all of us, for you, for me For present time and forever

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