Epilogue: What Is to Be (Un)Done?
David A. B. Murray
i had to leave Kampala quickly. I had finished my social
work degree and was developing a support group for young
kuchus [gay men]—about twenty of us met regularly at homes
and sometimes bars around the city. But over the last few
months, the police had begun to call me on my cell phone, and
I even had to meet with an o≈cer who basically told me that
they had information on me to prove that I was engaged in
immoral activities and would publish my name in the news-
papers ‘‘unless . . .’’—which meant I would have to pay them a
lot of money. I didn’t have that kind of money. Luckily, I had
just received acceptance of my paper and a plane ticket to the
International Conference on lgbt Rights in Montreal, so I
decided to get out of Uganda before things got worse and seek
protection in Canada.
I had never been on a plane before and I kept wondering if
they might stop me at the airport in Kampala, but I made it
through. When the plane finally touched down in Montreal,
I was nervous about Canadian customs, but when I told the
customs o≈cer I was here for the lgbt Rights Conference he
just nodded and stamped my book. I was expecting someone
from the conference would be there to meet me, but there was
no one. I was confused, and started asking people for directions
to the conference, but nobody spoke English, nobody seemed to
know anything about it. I walked outside, and saw a taxi.
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