Certain Greatness Cannot Be Left Unsaid; Theatre's Glory

The fire at Ndere Centre. The Ugandan creatives and the incredible team of the Kampala International Theatre Festival,  3rd edition.

Antu Yacob and her Mourning Sun cast fanned the flames with their exceptional and tremendous talent. I moderated the conversation after the play and I was stilled by the enormity of their gift.

Antu Yacob/Facebook photo

Mourning Sun, composed of two acts in Ethiopia and U. S. A respectively,  is a well-woven fictional story of Biftu,  acted by Jevonnah Mayo, raised in traditional Ethiopia and faced with a far-fetched dream of young love. Her mother, caught in between protecting her daughter while living to society's expectations,  organizes for an arranged marriage to an elderly man. The result is the loss of two children,  her daughter who disappears into indifference and listlessness and her grandchild who never lived to see a day. In addition,  Biftu suffers from the ordeal of obstetric fistula,  her condition aggravated by the lack of remedy for her. She feels cursed,  understandably. Biftu's sister,  the more defiant and outspoken one,  acted by Fadoua Hanine, is the antidote the play needs to relieve the audience of the stigma women and girls go through in systematic oppressive societies.

Cast/Kampala International Theatre Festival photo

Abdi,  acted by Adrian Baidoo,  is a young impressionable boy whose character reflects the huge differences between men and women in traditional Ethiopia. With aspirations of meeting Michael Jackson in America and marrying Biftu,  his life is comparatively simpler and easier. The transition to America however is also significant to young people who are disillusioned into believing that America is still the place where all problems dissipate.

When Biftu finally arrives in America,  she finds restitution in the bizarre yet comfortable encounter of a sex addict whose recovery is through prescribed medical marijuana. Trudy,  acted by John Keller, provides a pivotal point in Biftu's journey.

Each cast member plays multiple roles which any audience can marvel at. Temesgen Tocruray plays a doctor,  taxi driver,  the Ethiopian elderly who marries Biftu,  each of whose accents are played to perfection. Charles Everett likewise plays several Ethiopian characters and a typical Black American struggling to find his own identity.

Antu Yacob has a remarkable gift of stressing pertinent society issues through theatre.

The stage set-up with U.S scenes could have improved. It would also have been more appropriate to introduce the moderator by name, with a brief introduction. The Kampala International Theatre Festival held an entire cocktail of excellence like Black,  a play written by Sanyu Kisaka,  Two Faces by Sammy Wetala,  Doreen Baingana's Tropical Fish,  acted by Rehema Nanfuka,  Kawuna by Kemiyondo Coutinho,  The Surrogate by Achiro Patricia and lots more artists like Kagayi Peter, William Musonda from Zambia, Barzakh a play from Lebanon and Giovanni Ortega from the U.S.

Rehema Nanfuka/ KITF photo

Scene from Sanyu Kisaka's Black/KITF photo

Congratulations to Deborah Asiimwe the Director of Uganda's largest international theatre festival. 

I’m omni invisible

I have super powers which make me turn invisible.  I'm omni invisible,  the person who lays down her kidney to save the life of an ingrate and yet won't get invited to the thank you dinner.

I'm the one who will work behind the scenes to make sure my friend's wedding runs flawlessly  with guests served and everyone merry but will be the only one who doesn't receive a thank you card.

I'm the one whose close people will get married and I'll only know about it one week to the wedding. Trains run on parallel tracks. The people around me only recognize one side. I'm the side that never gets noticed.

Entebbe, Photo credit/Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

Someone told my husband not to tell me when a person very dear to me died.  She said that I'd most likely tell everyone on social media about it because... well,  omni invisible people don't have empathy or common sense.

And then there's the group of friends who you thought were family. You invited them home,  led them into the forbidden,  confusing and remarkable maze of your life,  until one day  you discovered they often had outings and dinners without you. Don't complain!  Invisible people don't eat.

How about when you shared a life-changing novelty with an  partner and they scrambled up a flimsy proposal,  a few months later,  making headlines with your brilliant idea.

I'm going to shed off my past in the same way a rattlesnake sheds off its skin. My past will shrivel on the ground.

I’m omni invisible

I’m the secret revealed in Sylvia Plath

The memory in the legs

Of a man who used to walk.

I’m the final laughter before death

The irresistible urge to fly.

I vaporize in cold

And shiver in the heat

I’m omni invisible.

I shed off my past

 In the same way a rattlesnake

Sheds its skin

Leaving it shriveled on the ground.

Photo credit/Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

National Museum Pretoria, 

A poem by Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

Dress me in Disobedience

Wait for me as I unscrew my nipples

And like a tap, watch the milk of submission

As it pours down a drain.

Dress me in disobedience.

Untie the knots on my belt,

Which are roadblocks to my sensuality.

My body is a car

And I won’t stop driving

Until I reach a sign

That points towards my own space and erotica.

Where I can use words like vagina

Without people like you

Responding with  mssccchew!

Dress me in disobedience

Where vaginas join their lips

In conversation

Where broken children

Find the right kind of laughter

To bring broken hearts

And damaged parts.

Wait for me as I unscrew my nipples

And like a tap, watch the milk of submission

As it pours down a drain.

Lake Victoria Entebbe/Photo credit/Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

This poem appears in my collection, Dress me in Disobedience.

A poem by Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

The stillness of the lake, the grandeur of the mountain and the closeness of heaven.

Kisoro will make you kiss your sorrows away.

It's the most meticulous,  decontaminated and underrated town in Uganda. Do you know that you can cross into the Congo Bunagana border and the Chanika Rwanda border while in Kisoro?

You can also climb at the foot of Mt. Muhabura and see the dry clouds below, while in the centre of the town it's actually pouring. Land is valued and explored by subsistence and commercial farmers growing beans,  irish potatoes and maize on every available plot. There is not a single soul in Kisoro who has kaweke hair. It's always thick,  well-groomed and enviable. The Bafumbira are undoubtedly amongst the healthiest looking Ugandans. Speaking Kifumbira,  Kinyarwanda or Kiswahiili given the proximity to Rwanda and Congo, it's an interesting mixture of cultures. 

walking between rows of beans

the hills and the maize

amongst Uganda's best roads

The population is largely of youth and children and the predominant Catholic churches are brimming with young children lying on the grass outside the churches during the services. When travelling to Western Uganda,  not many Ugandans travel to Kisoro except for guerrilla trekking or climbing Mt. Muhabura. If they stopped to taste the freshness of Lake Mutanda,  a crater lake,  that would be another story. It's clearer than tap water and so inviting that on any good day,  young boys and girls take a swim every so often. If you close your eyes for just an instant, life can become perfect. The stillness of the lake, the grandeur of the mountain and the closeness of heaven.

Lake Mutanda

Kisoro is a small town with its own culture. The roads are immaculate and it's far enough from the uncertainty of Kampala's politics.Visit Kisoro at least once. 

Mama Golparii and the grumpy camel; A different Mombasa

After the usual Fort Jesus tour, being charged with story-worthy non-Kenyan rates,  my husband,  daughter and I, visited the Mombasa that isn't on the brochure. The parts that have no East Africa visitor rates,  where there are no breadcrumbs to guide you,  just faith that the weather-beaten self-taught multi-lingual guide knows where he's going, to Mama Golparii's, the medipreneur..

At Mama Golparii's

Street art

Our elder daughter,  you see,  suffered severe eczema and there was a Persian medicapreneur,  Mama Golparii who lived in the heart of the maze of closely built flats, joined by winding alleys and stories.
It was told that in order for our daughter to be completely healed from eczema,  she needed to apply this natural vaseline which would cause all eczema-inducing vermin to flee.

Mama Doctor was non-assuming,  flirting with our daughter's ailment like a boy would flirt with an older lonely woman. The doctor had the tools to cure and the confidence we'd be singing her praises to the whole of East Africa. And there were cats everywhere.

The vaseline looked like dried sorghum seeds in a banana smoothie. There wasn't a particular smell just an air of cheerful confidence.
She gave us the prescription and we paid her thanking her for her generosity and wishing her a prosperous career.

On the way back were a mixture of lucrative apartments with more humble accommodation;  the guide mentioned that pirates often used their loot to build homes for their families.

Now that our daughter had received divine healing,  it was time to treat ourselves to a camel ride. The camel almost flung me down as I balanced myself on its otherwiseindestructible hairy humped body. It wasn't an impressive camel,  not like the ones King Solomon used to ride. It wasn't meant for family amusement and screaming children. This camel belonged to the working class;  carrying heavy loads for food and water.  I could sense the camel was getting grumpy. All I needed was a photograph and not a ride back to our hotel.

 Mombasa is more than the tourist magazine. Try it again with an inquisitive heart.

I endorse tourism.

I'm Stwagawompshed; Life Can Actually Be Beautiful

In 2009,  on this date,  21 August,  we held our first BN Poetry Award ceremony. It was at Fang Fang Restaurant on the rooftop. About 200 guests were present to witness the first ever poetry award for Ugandan women.

Today is the seventh anniversary of that first BN award ceremony and Lillian Aujo pioneered the first win. 

The first award-giving dinner

While on radio on Power 104. 1 FM,  I hosted the morning show every weekday from 6:00am to 10:00am,  setting the pace for the day. I like to set the pace,  to give encouragement to the weary and to inspire youth. That has always been my motivation,  to encourage,  inspire and provide positive creative leadership.

Taking paths that are overgrown from disuse. My curiosity will take me there. If people say that there is no honest lawyer in the world,  then I want to be that honest lawyer.

With Esther Armah in Hargeysa

If certain people think that a woman should not be heading a festival and do everything to suggest that,  then I want to be the woman to not only organise a poetry festival but to tell every woman I know to start festivals in every corner of the world.

There's always a way. Last week,  I met a Ugandan retiree from the UN who made me believe that life can be beautiful. I'm meeting new people in new spaces. Old conversations that stuck to the status quo,  have been replaced with exuberance. This spirited,  candid and effervescent woman,  illustrated through intricate diagrams,  how life can actually be beautiful. All we have to do is begin from the core.

Add flesh to the skeleton

From 24th to 26th August in Kampala,  we'll be holding our second poetry festival at Maria's Place in Ntinda opposite Winifred Fashion Designs near Victory City Church. We'll be holding our award-giving dinner on Friday 26th August at Fang Fang Restaurant and this time General Okanga,  High Commissioner of Kenya to Uganda, is our Chief Guest.

I'm stwagawompshed. Life can actually be beautiful. 

I won the Gayaza High School dancing competition while in senior one in 1991

I won the Gayaza High School dancing competition while in senior one in 1991. Julia Majugo (nee Kalyegira) the entertainment prefect, gave me a life-changing Three thousand shillings as first prize. Akusa Batwala and Babirye Kagga were the other top two winners, each of us from Kampala Parents' School. 

Parade on Sports' Day (courtesy photo)

For years, I resented the title Gayaza girl. I would hear stories of my good behaviour and how well-groomed Gayaza had made me. While holding back the urge to scream that I don't look like a Gayaza girl and never will, I listened politely instead, just like a Gayaza girl. 

I often pitied the hundreds of parents who sought many ways for their daughters to attend Gayaza High School. I wondered why many women, after decades of years,  still wished they had attended this school. Until I joined a whatssap group of Gayaza girls and participated in the July 2016 Gayaza High School Career Day, I was reminded why Gayaza is indomitable,  precious and and wholesome. Being a Gayaza girl is not about being one thing. I'm a Gayaza girl, which means I'm not just a poet or the Coordinator of the Babishai Niwe Poetry Foundation. You see, when you're just one thing,  then cowards can easily follow your journey and poison your intentions, spiking your food with sabotage; just because they found you in a box.  Being a Gayaza girl means I'm not just one thing. I joined Kampala Toastmasters Club and found an energised group of creative professionals who celebrated my diversity as a public speaker and mentor. I was further challenged to compete in the East Africa Toastmasters Competition, where I emerged semi-finalist.

Kampala Toastmasters Club at a recent retreat.

Together, we’ve created the first ever Toastmasters challenge, competition between poets and public speakers on Thursday 25^th August at the #Babishai2016 poetry festival at Maria’s Place in Ntinda. One of the judges is Doreen Baingana, another Gayaza girl who dominates Uganda’s literary scene. 

At the July 2016 Gayaza Career Day (courtesy photo)

 

While at Gayaza High School,  I was the house leader of Sherborne House,  a position where I participated and lead the house in all sports' competitions,  contemporary African dance and drama competitions,  where I inspired young girls to excel both off and on the field. We had a solidarity that I've never experienced in any other institution; we were motivated to perform our best at all times. 

I'm a former student of this mighty school that demonstrated what it means to be a born again Christian. This is another title I resented for a long while. The world brings lots of disillusionment and doubt and there are people who have made cynicism and manipulation their preferred career choice. It’s difficult to believe in anything good when you’re suffocated by them everyday for years.

It doesn't matter anymore. I'm a born again Christian. And I know that my purpose in life is to rise and not apologize for my abundant, life-changing and history/herstory making personality. I love who I am. I love my husband, children and relatives. I thought I’d wait for the Babishai poetry festival to end before I plan the next huge event but I can’t. I’ve tried to be modest about it but fake modesty looks so ugly on me. Plans are already underway. I celebrate Gayaza girls. I celebrate the testimonies and excellence. With unwavering, trail blazing and world-changing confidence,  I'm a Gayaza girl. 

I'll  Never Give Up!