IntroductionFootnote ¹

Recently, Cameroonians, ever inventive in neologisms, have surprised the world with a new term: anusocratie.Footnote ² It has become a key term in the ‘moral panic’ haunting the country since the turn of the century about a supposed proliferation of ‘homosexuality’. As elsewhere on the continent, such a proliferation is often seen as the result of colonial and postcolonial impositions. What is striking is that people make a direct link with illicit forms of enrichment, and that the anus – that is, anal penetration – is attributed a key role in this. Cameroon offers a quite special variant of such interpretations because many people – both the press and ‘radio trottoir’ (pavement radio) – explicitly relate this to the country's elite being deeply involved in secret associations of Western provenance: Freemasonry, Rosicrucianism and the Illuminati. Following an association – notably current in francophone contexts – of Freemasonry with same-sex practices, Cameroonians speak of les pédés de la République.Footnote ³ The message seems to be clear: since Freemasonry was a colonial imposition, homosexuality has also been introduced from the outside and is a colonial product. This explanation has specific consequences. Since it would be the elite in particular who had been corrupted by such colonial practices, denunciations of homosexuality in Cameroon are an attack from below, from society on the state, rather than the other way around (as elsewhere in Africa; see Nyeck Reference Nyeck, Nyeck and Epprecht2013). Especially since 2006, the state elite have reacted against such suspicions by unleashing a witch hunt against ‘homosexuals’ in order to distance themselves from such accusations.

For many Cameroonians, but certainly not for all – there are other voicesFootnote ⁴ – this link between homosexuality, Freemasonry and illicit enrichment has become self-evident. However, in this article we hope to show that a further unravelling of this conceptual knot is both worthwhile and urgent since it opens up wider perspectives on what is at stake in the moral panics over homosexuality that have erupted in many African countries over the last few decades. The obvious focus for such further analysis is the link with illicit enrichment, condensed in the image of the anus as a source of wealth – hence ‘anusocracy’. In current debates on Africa as a ‘homophobic continent’ – whether confirming this stereotype or questioning it – this association with illicit enrichment gets little attention. Nor does it figure in the classical Western texts on homosexuality. For instance, Freud (Reference Freud1905), in his stocktaking of its aspects in Drei Abhandlungen zur Sexualtheorie (Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality), does not mention the link with enrichment. But in Africa it seems to be quite common.

The aim of this article is to show that this image of the anus as a source of wealth is not just another exuberant illustration of Pliny the Elder's old saying ex Africa semper aliquid novi (out of Africa, always something new). Rather, it articulates important concerns about inequality in changing contexts and how to deal with them. A first way to disentangle this association is to historicize it. In this, the Cameroonian case is of particular interest, since, as Patrick Awondo (Reference Awondo2019) – a Cameroonian colleague who had the courage to address these sensitive issues from inside the country – has already signalled, present-day imaginaries about Freemasons practising transgressive forms of sexuality in order to enrich themselves are reflected in one of the very first ethnographies on Cameroon: namely, in the work of Günther Tessmann. Tessmann began his research in what is now South Cameroon in 1904, just after the Germans began to establish their control over this region. A notion that keeps coming up in his classic monograph Die Pangwe (Reference Tessmann1913), especially about the Fang, is biang akuma – the medicine of wealth – which, to Tessmann's own surprise, turns out to be directly related to same-sex practices. Following up this link led us into interesting complications. Clearly, it is too easy to oppose this biang akuma as some sort of ‘traditional’ image of homosexuality to the current link to Freemasonry as a colonial or even a ‘modern’ version. For one thing, Tessmann's perspective was directly influenced by the ideas of Magnus Hirschfeld and others that were causing a scandal in Berlin at the time he left for the field. This historical link therefore helps show that the triangular imaginary of Freemasonry, witchcraft and homosexual practices as the secret behind the spectacular forms of enrichment that mark present-day relations in Cameroon developed over time in the context of an ongoing articulation of local and imported conceptions. ‘Anusocracy’ can thus be read as a new variant of an older moral discourse on illicit wealth.

Another lead for analysing this triangle is its generality in present-day Africa. It serves all too well for denouncing the staggering new inequalities that developed so quickly after independence all over the continent. Many studies emphasize the consumerist drive of the new African elites and their preference for imported goods.Footnote ⁵ Lately, this has become even more grating because of increasing disappointment with the results of development, the mantra of the first decades of independence. Often, it is not the new elite's ostentatious consumption per se that is seen as the problem. A current comment on such consumerism in Cameroon is ‘Oui, oui un Grand n'est pas un petit [Yes, yes, a big man is not an ordinary man]’. In other words, un Grand has to show off. The problem is rather that this accumulation of wealth is seen more and more as unproductive as it is not redistributed. People who do not share have always been easily accused of witchcraft, and this applies most poignantly to the postcolonial elites’ staggering forms of accumulation. Apparently, people now easily make a link with same-sex practices, which are also seen as shocking because they are not geared towards reproduction. It is in this context that the anus is emerging in many parts of Africa as a focal point in articulating wealth and sexuality, both in popular rumours and in academic literature. As one of our interlocutors put it: ‘The anus is rising.’Footnote ⁶

Still, the question remains: why does the anus take centre stage in moral attacks on illicit enrichment? It may be tempting to explain these rumours by reducing them to political-economic issues, but it is clear that sexuality plays a role of its own here. Two of the continent's most visionary thinkers, Cameroonian historian/philosopher Achille Mbembe (Reference Mbembe2010) and Gabonese anthropologist Joseph Tonda (Reference Tonda2016), recently advanced more general interpretations of this linking of the anus to wealth. It is notable that their interpretations of such ‘anusocracy’ seem to have quite different implications. Mbembe (Reference Mbembe2010: 213, 219) sees it as a new variation of a scheme that haunts witchcraft fantasies in general: the image of powerful witches (mostly elders) feeding on the life force of their younger dependants (régénération d'une virilité déclinante). Thus, anal penetration of young men seems to be the ultimate phallocracy, fortifying le Grand and emptying his victims. Tonda, however, inspired by Deleuze and Guattari's reflections on the ‘capitalist anus’, seems to relate it to the Fanonian nightmare of an ‘impotent’ African bourgeoisie. In Tonda's examples (Reference Tonda2016: 132), it is elite persons who allow themselves to be penetrated, and thus robbed of their life force. Such variations highlight the volatility of the imaginary relating to anal penetration and wealth. Apparently, this link suggests all sorts of different possibilities.

An even greater challenge is to try to see whether ‘queer studies’, as developed in the West since the last quarter of the twentieth century, can offer any inspiration in understanding the special role of the anus in African discourses. Indeed, the anus takes centre stage in two of queer studies’ foundational texts: Mario Mieli's Towards a Gay Communism (Reference Mieli, Fernbach and Williams2018 [Reference Mieli, Fernbach and Williams1977]), with the characteristic battle cry ‘I keep my treasure in my arse, but it is open to everybody’;Footnote ⁷ and American literary theorist Leo Bersani's paper with the challenging title ‘Is the rectum a grave?’ (Reference Bersani and Bersani2009 [1987]). Of course, the African context is very different, and so is the tenor of the discourses involved. But we hope to show that this confrontation with queer theory can help bring out another layer in the African discourses, one that is less homophobic and more linked to special forms of desire.

Clearly, unravelling the epistemological knot of Freemasonry, homosexuality and illicit enrichment that is captivating present-day Cameroon clearly demands visiting domains that seem to be far apart. So we ask for the reader's indulgence. Trying to understand why these mystical imaginaries around the anus acquired such force in Africa in recent times opens up unexpected perspectives.

The rise of ‘anusocracy’: situating a moral panic

Much has been written recently about the sudden intensification of popular concerns with a supposed proliferation of homosexuality in Cameroon, and the distinctive trajectory of the politicization of this issue in the country (see, for example, Awondo Reference Awondo2012; Reference Awondo2019; Awondo et al. Reference Awondo, Geschiere and Reid2012; Nyeck Reference Nyeck, Nyeck and Epprecht2013). From as early as 2000 there were signs that the authorities were taking the criminalization of same-sex practices more seriously than before.Footnote ⁸ But the Christmas sermon of Archbishop Tonye Bakot in 2005 is generally seen as a turning point. His Excellency attacked the elite – many of whom (including the president of Cameroon, Paul Biya, and several of his ministers) were present at the mass – for sodomizing young men. This immediately drew considerable attention in the press (see, for instance, Mbembe Reference Mbembe2005). Within two months this was followed by the affaire des listes already mentioned (see note 2), with several newspapers publishing lists of ‘suspected’ or even ‘prominent’ homosexuals, targeting leading figures in government and other areas of public life (including in the arts and sport). These accusations gained traction in public discourse and clearly upset the elite, generating several lawsuits.

Since 2005, the subject has remained of vigorous interest in the Cameroonian public space and animates passionate commentary in the media over what is at stake, which elite figures are the homosexuals, and their connection to power. Religious leaders, in particular those of the Catholic Church, have been the most influential in encouraging this moral panic. For them, homosexuality is part of a broader, international conspiracy against the ‘traditional’ view of the family and is causing a ‘crisis’ in the heterosexual family.Footnote ⁹ Equally striking is the linking of ‘witchcraft’ imaginaries in Cameroon with both ‘homosexuality’ and illicit enrichment. Remember what was noted before about the link people make between non-reproductive sexualities and unproductive, non-redistributed wealth. As Mbembe already remarked in December 2005 when these explosive accusations were emerging, Cameroon is a country where the social imaginary remains deeply embedded in materiality – a ‘marked taste for lecherous living’ – and in struggles for ‘raw’ material consumption. He added that, in such circumstances, people are ‘profoundly attached to superstition, fetishism, and magic’.Footnote ¹⁰

A good example of this was the widespread allegation that regional elites in the North-West hired ‘imported witchdoctors’ from Nigeria during the restructuring of the ruling Cameroon People's Democratic Movement (CPDM) party in 2015. One of them was accused of having ‘satisfied his carnal urges on a male child’ and so he was arrested and interrogated by the local Gendarmerie.Footnote ¹¹ There, it was claimed, he confessed to sodomizing the young boy as part of his ritual activities to fortify his Cameroonian client, a female politician vying for the leadership of the women's wing of the regional chapter of the ruling party. Even though people referred to the ‘witchdoctor's carnal urges’, the underlying frame of interpretation was that the abuse of the young boy was a ritual crime meant to magically empower his client. There is a direct link here to Archbishop Tonye Bakot's accusatory Christmas sermon of December 2005, when he warned that in Cameroonian society ‘the most important value is material possessions and power’, so that ‘the assassination of young children for the purposes of drinking their blood and eating their organs becomes an acceptable value’.Footnote ¹²

Such powerful denunciations of the elite's pursuit of material enrichment by magical means are supported by dramatic events that seem to be all too real. Since 2005, President Paul Biya has launched an anti-corruption campaign with the official codename Opération Épervier (Operation Sparrowhawk). In practice, this campaign brought about the selective prosecution of Biya's former allies turned political enemies and is therefore seen by many as a political ‘witch hunt’. More than two dozen former ministers or high-level cabinet officials and directors of public corporations now languish in the notorious Kondengui Prison in Yaoundé. The arrest, trials and transport to the prison of these former men of wealth and power were marked by a spectacular display of both their crimes and their fall from Biya's grace. A prominent example was the case of a recent victim of this campaign, Edgar Alain Mebe Ngo'o. After serving as Biya's Director of the Civil Cabinet (1997–2004), he was elevated to powerful ministerial positions in national security (2004–09), defence (2009–15) and, less importantly, transport (2015–18). After his fall from public office in March 2018, people automatically assumed that he was under investigation for financial crimes during his long stay in government. In March 2019, through the type of ‘intense news reporting’ that is typical of the newly created and very pro-government private TV station Vision4, Cameroonians could follow in detail the drama of his arrest by the police.Footnote ¹³

What gave this arrest particularly dramatic overtones was that the story was backed by video clips, showing that the former minister had enriched himself not only with a fleet of expensive cars, sprawling mansions across the capital city and tailor-made suits from Europe worth thousands of euros each, but also by amassing euro notes in one of the rooms of his house, which was full of money. One of the clips (probably faked but generally believed since it fitted so well in the Cameroonian context) showed the room packed with money – as unproductive as it could be – but also traces of an attempt to burn it. Comments attributed this to his wife (who was also arrested) attempting to destroy this mountain of evidence. When they were both led into Kondengui Prison (separately, of course), they were jeered at by onlookers like suspected thieves. Some of the onlookers were so enraged that they ran after Madame Mebe Ngo'o to lift up her dress, exposing her backside. This shaming (and also shameful) spectacle reminds elites in Biya's system of how precarious their status is: just as easily as they are elevated by him through various ethnic networks of appointments, so too can they be spurned and suffer public disgrace.

Clearly, the anusocracy rumours have to be seen against a complex background. On the one hand, they relate to an older discourse about witchcraft as a mystical source of wealth. But on the other they add new forms of secrecy in order to explain the spectacular enrichment of present-day elites that seems to surpass older parameters. All the people involved in these rumours – and in particular President Biya himself – are supposedly deeply involved in new networks of power of a more global allure, such as Freemasonry and Rosicrucianism. As already noted, these new associations reinforce the idea that homosexuality is a colonial imposition. However, in the Cameroonian case there are clear indications that the linking of transgressive sex to (illicit) enrichment has a longer history. But for this we have to go back in time more than a century.

Tessmann: ‘the King of the White Spot’

The current anger in Cameroon about the baffling forms of enrichment by the new elites and their link to same-sex practices makes it interesting to go back to Günther Tessmann (1884–1969) and his descriptions of biang akuma (medicine of wealth) among the Fang – one of the Beti groups that now dominate the state – before colonial ‘pacification’. It is even more interesting since, by relating this biang akuma to same-sex intercourse, he touches on a theme that seems to have a long history in other parts of the continent as well, even though it has received little attention until now.

Tessmann has become an almost mythical figure in Cameroon, since the reputation of his monograph Die Pangwe (The Fang)Footnote ¹⁴ has to be balanced against its inaccessibility, as none of his work has been translated into French or English. In many respects he followed the German tradition set by figures such as Alexander von Humboldt (1769–1859) by combining the role of explorer, natural historian and ethnologist. Born in Lübeck, he left for Kamerun in 1904, at first to work for a plantation company. He soon set out on his own, in a most adventurous way, to collect plants and animals; later, ethnography became his major interest. On his return to Germany in early 1907, the Lübeck museum was so interested in his collection that it helped finance a special expedition that allowed Tessmann to work for two more years (1907–09) among the Fang. In 1913, after publishing Die Pangwe, he returned again to Kamerun, but now in the service of the government. During World War One, after the German defeat by a joint French and British invasion, he was interned together with the German army on the island of Fernando Pó, then a Spanish colony (present-day Bioko). Returning to Germany after the war, he published several monographs on other groups, among which the one on the Bafia was to play a special role in his interest in same-sex practices. However, he failed to get the academic recognition he felt his work entitled him to. After the Nazi regime excluded him from teaching, he migrated to Brazil in 1936, where he died in 1969. Nowadays, his Fang monograph in particular is a rare collector's item that fetches impressive prices on the antiquarian book market.

Tessmann developed an innovative way of doing fieldwork, not limiting himself to short visits but staying for longer periods in quite inaccessible places – something that was quite exceptional at the time. In his conception, such fieldwork had striking military overtones. At the various Forschungsstationen (research stations) that he successively built in the villages where he lived for months, the day started with a military parade of ‘his boys’. He deemed a regular show of physical force necessary, not only against the people who worked for him but also against querulous neighbouring villages. Indeed, the title of his unpublished autobiography, König im weissen Fleck (King in the White Spot), reflects his obsession not only with ‘white’ or blank spots (which was one of the reasons why he chose to settle in ‘untouched’ territory across the border with Spanish Guinea) but also with becoming a ‘king’ there. Thomas Klockmann, in his study of Tessmann's life and work, masterfully shows how this dream took shape (Klockmann Reference Klockmann1988: 47ff.). Interestingly, he attributes a central role to one of Tessmann's assistants – Max, a Batanga man from the coast whom Tessmann called his Minister and also his Gross-Wezir (grand-vizier). Indeed, a constant presence in Tessmann's stories about his work with the Fang is that of meine Jungen (my boys). Their identity may change (during the 1907–09 expedition two Jaunde men had a key role and were seconded by a larger group of local Fang boys), but Tessmann's ambivalent relation to them did not. He regularly disciplined them with an elephant whip but he also writes at length about the jokes he shared with them. The remarkable thing is that ‘his boys’ were apparently quite committed to him, several times saving his life by carrying him for days through the dense forest in order to get medicine for yet another attack of fever.

Same-sex practices and enrichment: examples from elsewhere

The wider interest of Tessmann's work – and one of the reasons to dwell on it – is that the link he makes through biang akuma between wealth and same-sex practices can be found in many contexts throughout Africa, now and in earlier times. Apparently, this link has an obvious quality in African imaginaries on same-sex practices that is all the more notable since it is clearly not derived from the West. A few examples must suffice here (see also Geschiere Reference Geschiere2017). In 1988, Quality, a Nigerian magazine, warned its readers in more general terms:

It is also interesting that this is not a new fad. It emerges, for instance, in a quite different garb in Ndèye Ndiagna Gning's fascinating thesis (Reference Gning2013) on des hommes aux identités sexuelles multiples (men with multiple sexual identities) in Senegal, where she refers to a long-standing prescription by marabouts (Muslim religious leaders) to rich men to have intercourse with another man in order to keep their fortunes. She also shows that such advice is related to Islamic scholarship from the eighteenth century. It is interesting how much this idea from Senegal resembles the ‘hot’ rumours that circulate on the Congolese music scene about the big stars of past and present generations, including Papa Wemba (a star of the recent past) and Fally Ipupa (a current star), who are also supposed to be ordered by their nganga (healers) to undertake similar sexual transgressions in order to retain their popularity and their ‘mystical’ reputation. Artistic success in obtaining contracts and fame are attributed to imaginaries of sexual transgressions and sorcery (Hendriks Reference Hendriks2017).Footnote ²⁴ People seem to take it for granted – as in the Senegalese and Nigerian examples above – that these celebrities take on the ‘active’ role in order to further empower themselves.Footnote ²⁵

However, to return to present-day Nigeria, there are also examples of quite different ways of linking the anus to wealth that are more in line with the pathways opened by Abega's enumeration of rumours in Cameroon. A striking example comes from the online journal Hype Nigeria: Nigerian Music and News (from 17 March 2017), which offers a long stream of confessions of and about people who needed to have their anuses stitched – some even three times – because they kept engaging in ‘homosexualism’. The sordid details – about having to wear nappiesFootnote ²⁶ because they could no longer contain their faeces – and the stream of medical details suggest that this belongs to a genre of ‘confessions’ that proliferate all over Africa with Pentecostalism. What is notable in these examples is that the reason why these ‘repenters’ took so long before stopping this painful behaviour is not lust but rather the riches these practices are supposed to generate. Sometimes, it is clear how riches are achieved – for instance, through the rewards offered by a Grand who imposes such penetration – but in other cases it is just the practice itself that is supposed to do the trick by allowing for an initiation into a ‘cult’, such as Freemasonry or Rosicrucianism.

Again, what is common to all these examples is the link with enrichment. But what is also common is that the sexual roles required for this show a kaleidoscopic diversity.

The mysteries of the anus: from Africa to queer theory

Can we distinguish recurrent patterns in this motley enumeration of situations in which the association of unproductive accumulation and anal penetration emerges? In line with the earlier signalled difference between Achille Mbembe's and Joseph Tonda's versions of this link, a contrast emerges between the anus as just a recipient and situations where it is attributed a more active role. Mbembe's version of the phallocrat subjecting even people of his own sex to anal penetration in order to appropriate their life force and to combat the decline of his own virility relates to a common theme in accusations of witchcraft (Mbembe Reference Mbembe2010; Reference Mbembe2006). It leads to the depletion of the penetrated partner and is often illustrated with horrible stories about young men dying with their intestines hanging out because of such cruel practices. However, African imaginaries on sexuality are also beset by another powerful theme – that of sexual intercourse as depletion, as highlighted above by Séverin Cécile Abega and Jean Ombolo for the Beti, although it is much more general. In this view, it seems to be the passive partner who feeds on anal penetration. Placide Ondo (Reference Ondon.d.: 11), writing on the popular attacks on Gabonese President Ali Bongo, gives this line of thought an interesting twist: ‘Se faire introduire un pénis pour être introduit dans les réseaux de pouvoir et d'enrichissement matériel [Allowing oneself to be penetrated by a penis in order to penetrate networks of power and material enrichment].’ Ondo links this to Masonic rites and sees mysticisme animiste as closely related. For Joseph Tonda (Reference Tonda2016: 134), this may bring apparent wealth but at the same time causes depletion of the life force (compare his Fanonist image of an impotent bourgeoisie, quoted above). Trying to understand the current rumours in Gabon about the wives of prominent men being horrified by the bloody nappies their husbands have to wear – think of the consternation in Nigeria about men having to have their anuses stitched, as noted above – he concludes that:

For Tonda, this ‘sexualization of the anus’ in present-day Africa recalls in a strange way Deleuze and Guattari's (Reference Deleuze and Guattari1972: 270) characterization of capital as anus et vampire (anus and vampire).

An audacious leap might be helpful to see more clearly through this baffling array of opposing interpretations. To what extent can queer theory, which emerged in the West some forty years ago, offer some inspiration here? The leap might indeed seem audacious – African contexts are so different from Euro-American ones. But, as mentioned in the introduction to this article, there is a similar preoccupation with the anus – be it in a more positive sense. The dominant discourse in African contexts of anal penetration as depletion of the passive partner reminds us of the title of Leo Bersani's already quoted text ‘Is the rectum a grave?’ (Reference Bersani and Bersani2009 [Reference Bersani and Bersani1987]). However, Bersani, an American literary theorist using psychoanalytical insights, also offers a way out of this negativity. He wrote the text – now seen as a classic in queer studies – in 1987 at the full height of the AIDS crisis in the gay community in the USA. Anal penetration, which had become a focal point in the rapidly developing gay sauna culture, suddenly turned out to have deadly consequences. But Bersani insists that this should by no means imply a turning away from sex, nor to a search for ‘displacement’ (reconstructing sex as an expression of something else).Footnote ²⁸ Rather, he looks for a solution by confronting the phallic implications of anal intercourse – top and bottom, mastery and subordination – and overcoming these through a ‘redemptive reinvention of sex’ (ibid.: 22). Intercourse does not have to be about overpowering; there is also ‘the perhaps equally strong appeal of powerlessness, of the loss of control’ – of succumbing to desire and ‘losing sight of the self’ (ibid.: 24). In such a vision, the rectum will no longer be a grave but rather a place for new beginnings. Ten years earlier – that is, before the outbreak of AIDS made sexual promiscuity so dangerous and stigmatizing – Italian philosopher, activist and theatre person Mario Mieli (Reference Mieli, Fernbach and Williams2018 [1977]) launched in a somewhat different way a similar call to unleash the liberating effects of anal intercourse. For Mieli, a re-evaluation of the anus and anal penetration was urgently needed for a ‘liberation of Eros’ – helping heterosexuals finally accept the homosexual element present in everybody – and this would bring about a truly revolutionary overturning of capitalism.Footnote ²⁹ In striking contrast to such rigid Marxist jargon is the playful way in which Mieli conveys the enjoyment that anal penetration can bring to both partners. This is what makes the book so attractive still today. Compare his battle cry quoted above: ‘I hoard my treasure in my arse but my arse is open to everyone.’ To which he adds:

Is there any relevance in confronting our African examples with these texts from Western queer theory? At first sight, it is especially the differences that are striking. The negative connotations of African discourses on anal penetration may correspond to Bersani's title equating the anus with a grave, but they certainly do not correspond to Bersani's ‘redemptive sex project’ for overcoming this negativity. And the desire that enlivens Mieli's book seems to be conspicuously absent from our African texts (which, of course, is not surprising, since we mainly quote from attacks on such ‘homosexual’ practices). Yet, on closer inspection, Bersani's and Mieli's passionate defence of anal penetration and sex in general as liberating and enriching may suggest another layer in the preoccupation in present-day Africa with the anus as a source of riches.

A recurrent theme in the rapidly growing stream of recent studies of same-sex arrangements in everyday life in Africa is the ease with which people combine different sexual roles – not only top/bottom in same-sex intercourse,Footnote ³⁰ but also across homo/hetero distinctions. This variability runs counter to the homophobic texts quoted above in which ‘the homosexual’ is seen as a specific and well-defined type. But studies on the everyday give a very different profile. In Graeme Reid's study (Reference Reid2010) of an explicitly gay Pentecostal church in Johannesburg in which the pastor preached that people have to follow their same-sex preference because clearly God made them that way, there is a constant worry about members – both young men and women – who stray by falling occasionally for the charms of the opposite sex, thus sinning against God's intentions for them. In Donald Donham's fascinating study (Reference Donham2018), West African men lodge their European (male) lovers on an upper floor added to their family house, with the wife and children living downstairs. Apostolos Andrikopoulos (Reference Andrikopoulos2019) describes a young man living in a same-sex liaison in Nairobi and joking about his role as a ‘housewife’ but mentioning also that he can thus maintain a wife and children in the village. Ndèye Ndiagna Gning (Reference Gning2013), in her fascinating study of young men in Senegal experimenting with same-sex arrangements, characterizes them as ‘men of multiple sexualities’. In the Kenyan anthology Stories of Our Lives, compiled by the Kenyan art collective The Nest in 2012–13 and bringing together life stories from 250 LGBTI Kenyans, many participants talk of sleeping with both men and women; characteristically, many of them are also reluctant to identify as gay or lesbian (van Klinken Reference van Klinken2019). Of course, this recalls Tessmann's stories about Bafia taking it as self-evident that they had sex with both women and men.

In many of these stories, economic enrichment certainly plays a role. But often there seems to be more at stake: enjoyment, a taste for diversity and a talent for playing different roles. In a certain sense this diversity recalls the ‘multiple self-realization’ principle that Jane Guyer (Reference Guyer1993) highlights as characteristic of political-economic performance in many parts of Africa, and that Achille Mbembe in his 2016 Abiola Irele Lecture (Mbembe Reference Mbembe2016) evokes as an opening for understanding how Africa's ‘animist’ heritage could function as an asset in the present global crisis. Guyer noted this talent for combining different forms of ‘knowledge’ as a stimulus for Africans in playing with new opportunities for enrichment.Footnote ³¹ Africans who combine various sexual roles, as in the examples above, would similarly perform their sexuality in an enriching way.Footnote ³² This may be a different kind of enrichment – even if it is also somewhat illicit – from the elite enrichment that is so furiously denounced by Cameroonians nowadays. Yet, one similarity is that this view of sexuality as enriching makes fixed boundaries seem to evaporate – in this context, those boundaries are homo or hetero as clearly delimited sexual ‘identities’. In this sense, the African examples concur with Mieli's call for celebrating anal intercourse as bringing a liberation of Eros beyond a homo/hetero divide.

To conclude

This text brings together elements from very different backgrounds: popular discourses in present-day Cameroon and elsewhere in Africa linking the supposed proliferation of ‘homosexuality’ to the involvement of national elites with Freemasonry and illicit enrichment; older ethnographic texts relating same-sex practices to enrichment in precolonial settings; African philosophers’ interpretations of the current preoccupation with the anus as a source of wealth; and texts from Western queer studies that have already become classics in this field. Yet, despite all the differences, there is a connecting theme: the linking of same-sex practices to enrichment, whether in a purely material form or in a broader sense. Indeed, this linking of a transgressive form of sexuality to enrichment emerged from our material as a particular emphasis in many African contexts.

This linking has different implications. At first sight the link with Freemasonry suggests that homosexuality is a colonial imposition. And, indeed, today's opinion leaders use it as ‘proof’ that homosexuality is ‘un-African’. However, the correspondence with older ethnographic data suggests that the link with enrichment has a longer history. As already noted, this should certainly not be taken as implying that the present-day excitement about Freemasons and their scandalous consumerist practices can be seen as merely signalling a ‘traditional’ continuity with practices the German ethnographer Tessmann noted among the Fang around 1900. Clearly, the association of same-sex practices with occult access to riches that turns up in so many places and at various times on the African continent has to be studied as being produced at the dynamic interface of modernity and tradition – not to be seen as separate poles, but inherently intertwined, producing one steaming mass of magma (to quote one of Joseph Tonda's (Reference Tonda and Turner2005) more disquieting metaphors).

According to such a perspective, it becomes worthwhile to confront these African imaginaries with insights from Western queer studies. In the above, we have tried to show that, different as the contexts may be, such a confrontation can help bring out deeper layers hidden in this linking of anal intercourse to enrichment, thus going beyond the homophobic tenor that so strongly coloured the statements cited at the beginning of this article. The sombre overtones of queer reflections on the effects of AIDS on gay lifestyles – the rectum as a grave – are reflected in African complaints about an emerging ‘anusocracy’. But Mieli's celebration of such sexual practices and Bersani's commitment to discover more positive openings in the sexual act itself correspond to forms of everyday conviviality that emerge from African ways of dealing with homophobic pressures. A striking trend in our African examples is people claiming space for forms of sexual diversity that allow them to go beyond the strict separation of homo/hetero as clearly delineated sexual ‘identities’. Queer studies can help outline the originality of African stories of desire that risk remaining hidden under heavy homophobic discourse. But there are also implications in the reverse sense. These African stories seem to undermine what has become a shibboleth in Western sexuality studies (but only since the end of the nineteenth century): the idea that sexual practices express a sexual identity. Queer theory is still struggling to get away from this linking of practice to identity. Maybe African experiences can contribute to this?