Pepe’s partner at their home in Kampala

A couple of days ago, Chris Blattman linked to my recent reporting on the gay community and asked, Is Uganda a good place to be gay?

Homophobia is real and widespread. Yet Uganda boasts a vibrant gay rights movement, and nowhere else in Africa have I seen a more open and public debate. Gay men and women tell their stories in the newspapers; protests and legal battles get fair and often favorable coverage in the press. Every single editorial board of every major newspaper is solidly behind the gay rights movement.

The anti-homosexuality bill, simply put, is a backlash. A backlash from a group that, in the long run, is losing the battle of ideas.

Blattman is right that western newspapers are behind the gay rights movement, but doesn’t mention that Ugandan newspapers regularly publish stories calling for “forensic anal probes” to determine whether or not someone has participated in “sodomy.”

The virulent hatred I heard during a taping of Agenda Uganda on the bill made it clear that while things are being discussed, the discussion is neither balanced nor courteous.

Many of the people I talked to think things have gotten worse recently because of the bill. In a way, friends told me, it allows people who were mildly homophobic or not public about their homophobia to not just express themselves but also to act on their hatred and fears. It’s impossible to say how many violent attacks or instances of discrimination have taken place recently or in the past simply because the police are some of the most homophobic people in this equation.

There are whispered stories of violent offenses too grave to write without confirmation, and too dangerous to confirm.

But, in one respect, Chris is right: Uganda has a chance to be a leader in sub-Saharan Africa and set a precedent for protecting gay rights. That is, if the bill doesn’t pass. When I was asking to speak to people last month, many said no and cited the bill as the reason. I thought to myself, “there’s no way that bill will pass, ever,” but my conviction is nothing compared to the consequences they will face if I am wrong.

Here’s what Andrew Mwenda has to say:

Multitudes of Ugandans are homophobic and would not hesitate to sanction genocide against gays. To secure attitudinal change through force would require unprecedented violence. Our challenge is how to foster openness and tolerance. This can only be achieved through open debate.

This is why although Bahati is subjectively homophobic, he is objectively an ally of gays. By introducing his bill with provisions to kill gays, he has inadvertently opened debate on a subject that has been taboo in Uganda. In the process, he has given gays and progressive intellectuals an opportunity and a platform to enlighten Ugandans about sexual diversity and expose the fallacies that inform homophobia.

He’s right that a conversation has started, and things might change quickly. But, for now, Uganda is not a good place to be gay . That’s like saying the American South in the 1960s was a good place to be black.

We’ll just have to wait and see where the conversation goes.

The international part of Monrovia’s central post office. See more images of the post office in the upcoming addition of BBC Focus on Africa magazine.

On Wednesday afternoon, I left Monrovia and flew to Kampala. I’m here for an assignment, and a bit of a vacation, and I have to say, it’s wonderful to be back. I’m seeing this place with different eyes. What before looked shoddy and inefficient now looks like a thriving African city with a robust economy. I can’t believe how fast the internet is, and I’ve eaten amazing Indian food, Italian food, Mexican food, and of course, matooke (that’s for you K.R.!) and reveled at how cheap everything seems after Monrovia’s inflated prices.

Last night at a party a group of old friend bear hugged me when I walked in the door, and then proceeded to argue about the Kabaka and the Mzee. It felt so good to see old friends and hear familiar banter.

Everyone asks me what Liberia is like. I hesitate, and find that the best way to explain it is to compare it to Juba, in south Sudan. They look at me and shudder and ask when I’m moving back to Kampala for good.

We’ll see, we’ll see. I’ve got a lot coming up when I get back to Liberia next month, though sitting at La Fontaine right now, drinking a wonderful cup of coffee, watching images of Monrovia’s amputee soccer team upload at breakneck speed on my FTP client, and enjoying a sunny and temperate afternoon, it’s hard to think about leaving again.

Riots broke out yesterday in Kampala. At least ten people are dead, there’s rioting all over town and as far out as Mukono, and it seems like things are getting a bit worse than yesterday rather than cooling off.

Keep up to the moment with what’s happening by searching the hashtag #kampala or following these folks on Twitter:

@UgandaTalks, @Nnfrank, @UgInsomniac, @SolomonKing, @CamaraAfrica

Also, check Uganda Witness, which looks like it’s rolling out an Ushahidi type platform. BlogSpirit aggregates most blogs about Uganda. The Independent is timing out on my connection right now, but will hopefully be back up and running soon.

Here’s some background and analysis from AFP:

Protesters from the Baganda tribe, which is the majority in central Uganda, have been angered by government efforts to stop their ruler Ronald Muwenda Mutebi visiting Kayunga county, north of Kampala, where violence was feared.

Yoweri said his government would not back down on keeping Mutebi out of Kayunga. “I told him (the ruler) that the meeting in Kayunga will not take place until some conditions that will be communicated to him by the minister of internal affairs are met.”

Medard Ssegona, deputy information minister for the Buganda Kingdom, also refused to back down.
“We are not going to be intimidated by the government into giving up our demands,” he said, while adding that the group was ready for talks with the government.

Ethnic Baganda MPs walked out of parliament in protest over the issue Wednesday.

The traditional king holds a ceremonial position but also wields political influence.

The government shut down a radio station owned by the Baganda kingdom accusing it of engaging in “sectarian acts”. The king of the Baganda is expected to travel to Kayunga on Saturday, heightening fears of more violence.

Daniel Kalinaki, managing editor of the Monitor newspaper, said in an editorial the riots are the most serious test so far for Museveni, am ethnic Munyankole, as they have destroyed his relationship with the Baganda people.

“Among the debris in the blood-splattered streets lies something else: the broken shards of what was left of President Museveni?s relationship with Buganda.”

The Baganda are in the majority in central Uganda and the loss of this voter base would weaken Museveni’s position at the next elections.

And, to all my friends and everyone else in Uganda, stay safe. Journalists, don’t get too close.

After more than two years in Uganda, I’m leaving on Tuesday evening. (Announcement buried in a Saturday blog post from a bit ago.) The next few posts will be of the wrapping up kind, and then in the coming weeks links to a few stories and pieces currently in the pipeline, and eventually, an announcement about West Africa whereabouts.

Wrapping up Kampala:

Best of times…

• Best Restaurant: Tuhende in old Kampala
• Best local lunch buffet in town: Café Joy on Shimoni Road
• Best/only margaritas: Lotus Mexicana
• Best indoor ice skating rink that’s really just a waxy floor: Alleygator’s
• Best hotel with fast internet where all you have to do is buy a soda to use the connection: Protea
• Best (expensive) get away only one hour from Kampala: Mabira Rain Forrest Lodge
• Best (cheap) get away only one hour from Kampala: Hairy Lemon
• Best used bookstore: the one run by that nice British lady who smokes menthol cigarettes all day in the compound for the Surgery
• Best newspaper to find photos of yourself, drunk, from the other night: Red Pepper
• Best croissant in town (and only one that doesn’t taste like a stale roll shaped like a croissant): La Patisserie
• Best place to sit somewhere swanky and overlook a slum: La Patisserie
• Best muffins in Uganda: that tourist shop at the Equator near Masaka
• Best place for a picnic: Entebbe Botanical Gardens
• Best place to buy wine, especially inexpensive South African wines: Wine Garage in Muyenga
• Best rafting company to take you on your white water tour of the Nile: they’re all the same
• Best street food: Rolex and chapatti
• Best place to stay when you first arrive in Uganda if you’re on a budget: La Fontaine guesthouse. (Call and ask for Jacob.)

Worst of times…

• Worst Ugandan landlord in the universe who works for USAID and therefore uses my tax dollars to subsidize my apartment, but is still rude and misogynistic despite my Obama-electing background: My landlord
• Most overpriced place for coffee with bad service and slow internet: Café Pap
• Worst mobile phone connectivity and internet pricing scheme: MTN
• Place where a boda boda is most likely to rip you off, or try to: Garden City
• Most unclear and inconsistent billing system in town: Umeme
• Worst place to go on your weekend off from work that truly boggles my mind as to why people do that: Gulu
• Worst newspaper to find photos of yourself, drunk, from the other night: The Onion

The Refugee Law Project, through the Beyond Juba initiative, is having a film festival and discussion sessions on Thursday and Friday of this week at National Theater in Kampala. Entrance is free.

RLP is one of the only organizations that is advocating for the rights of internally displaced persons who live in urban settings both locally and internationally. (Remember Stephen?) While IDPs in the north receive government and non-governmental assistance, the same is not true of their urban counterparts who are more vulnerable than most slum dwellers.

Meeting Point International (supported by AVSI) also works with urban IDPs, and Siena also started a blog to raise money for a sustainable tailoring project in Kireka.

Thursday, 30th October

3.00 Trapped in Anguish – an informed account of the war in northern Uganda, its humanitarian implications and the process of return and reintergration of former combatants

3.30 Ekisil - a graphic docu-drama on the culture and values of the Karamojong and their struggle to find a lasting peace in the region

4.20 Panel discussion on the conflict in northern Uganda and the situation in Karamoja, with David Pulkol, African Leadership Institute, Naome A. Mao, filmmaker, Giovanni Dall’Oglio, filmmaker, and others

5.50 Uganda Rising - this multiple award-winning film, featuring interviews with Betty Bigombe, Samantha Power, President Museveni and Mahmood Mamdani, amongst others, gives a ground-breaking account of the 20-year war in northern Uganda

Friday, 31st October

3.00 What about us? - the Beyond Juba Project launches its documentary on urban IDPs and their exclusion from IDP policy, to be followed by a discussion with the IDPs themselves

3.30 Panel discussion on the return of IDPs and the challenges faced by their urban counterparts, with Apollo Kazungo, Office of the Prime Minister, a representative of UNHCR, and others

4.15 We didn’t know - the process of truth telling is unravelled in this insightful documentary on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa

4.40 Panel discussion on justice, truth and reconciliation in Uganda with Ofwono Opondo, NRM deputy spokesperson, a representative of the South African High Commission, and others

5.40 Red Dust – an award-winning drama exposing the complexities of truth telling at South Africa’s TRC through the disparate lives of it witnesses.

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC CONTENT.

It happened yesterday around 11:50 AM. I got a call around 12:30. I was at the site by 12:50.

I once had a journalism school teacher who said 80 percent of journalism was showing up on time with all your equipment charged and ready.

I was there as fast as humanly possible, with all my equipment charged and ready.

Another thing they told me a journalism school: If it bleeds, it leads.

Associated Press hasn’t had interest in many Uganda stories, but when I spoke with the photo editor in Nairobi, he was interested in photos of a construction site accident in the middle of town that left at least seven people dead and more injured. He told me to go get images, and to be careful, be safe. (This is the AP low budget hostile environment training course.)

On the boda ride to the site, I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but felt exhilarated by the rush, the work, the immediacy. I thought of the passing scenery in F-stop/aperture ratios, set the ISO and white balance in my head.

Then I arrived. The site was boarded up, people peering in through cracks in the awning. I made my way in. From the top, it was hard to tell exactly what was happening, but as I got closer, it was clear.

Many dead, more injured. The foundation of a construction site had collapsed, burying all the workers nearby in a flash. The number of dead bodies I’ve seen went up by a percentage somewhere in the four figure range.

At first I took general shots, wide angle views, captured the scene. But then I went in closer, as I knew I’d need to in order to get any decent shots. I have never thought about composing a photo of a dead body, but yesterday I did. There were moments I had to back up and allow myself a bit of hyperventilating, but then I continued. I let the ratios become automatic, changed the settings on my camera without thinking.

I flinched at the dead body in the police truck. His toes made me sad and scared. I flinched at the chunk of flesh missing from the back of someone’s head. I flinched at someone’s head flattened and egg-shaped.

I flinched again when I left and then edited my photos, which captured details I hadn’t even seen: a man on a gurney with his fingers curled up, a construction worker irate as he uncovered what must have been his friend’s body.

I wish it weren’t true that if it bleeds it leads. But AP hasn’t asked me for photos for months, and yesterday they did.

A few hours after I filed, my editor in Nairobi called me and said that one of my images was an AP Top Picture of the Day. Should I be happy about that kind of thing?

More Eid photos on Scarlett Lion

“There’s a man here with one leg, five women, and thirty-two children,” Sarah Shambe tells me, on the day of Rosh Hashanah, as we walk away from Eid prayers to her two-room home in a suburb of Kampala, Uganda. Sarah spent the morning praying in an open field with thousands of other Ugandan Muslims. Now that the praying is done, she fills me in on the neighbours.

I didn’t know Sarah before about an hour ago, but now she’s invited me to her home. This is after prayers where small kids ate ice cream in shades of bright pink and pastel orange, and music played in the background while friends and relatives greeted each other, and everyone wore their best clothes for Eid, and people prayed in a clearing under the clouds in front of the Kampala skyline.

This is how I spend my Rosh Hashanah in Africa: observing Eid.

Back at Sarah’s house, her sister visiting from Nairobi makes a sweet called “Tambi.” She deep-fries vermicelli noodles, adds sugar, vanilla, and cardamom, and then boils the concoction. It makes me think of kugel. I drink a sticky sweet fruit soda called Mirinda. In color and taste and everything but the syrupy residue of low alcohol content, it makes me think of Manishevitz.

More on the Walrus…

More photos on Demotix.

Uganda’s Muslim community – about 12 percent of the general population, observe Ramadan this month. Idi Amin, Uganda’s infamous dictator, was Muslim and his legacy has tainted the image of the community throughout the country. As his memory fades, and many exiled Asians return to Uganda, the Muslim community has grown in vibrancy.

On Wednesday at around noon, I walked down Kampala Road, listening to the traffic and the crowds and the taxi touts and the energy that all just seemed noisy. Then, all of a sudden, the traffic stopped flowing. Where dozens of cars should have been traveling, suddenly there were none. The street was silent. I paused, as did several other people who were walking near me, and glanced into the now empty street. An ambulance siren went off somewhere in the distance. Actually, I don’t know that it was an ambulance. I don’t know what kind of siren it might have been. I just knew it was ringing, somewhere, for some unknown reason. Ambulances are not common in these ends, and most sirens indicate a government convoy. Maybe it was the foreboding quiet that made me associate the distant sound with an ambulance, I don’t really know. I kept walking, in the direction of where the traffic should have been flowing from but wasn’t, eager to see if there was some kind of source to its end.

Eventually, I got to a place further down the thoroughfare where more cars were flowing. There was no particular or apparent cause to their stop, as if it had just been a regular bottleneck. But something more must have happened. It just wasn’t anything I could see.

I kept walking. At the next junction, an expensive car, the kind with tinted windows so that wananchi wouldn’t know who had such an expensive car, a Jaguar, I believe, hit a boda boda. Not badly, just a small collision. But this once again stopped the already halted traffic. A police officer in the normal khaki that seems to be all to frequently sited these days, stopped him, and yelling was involved. The police have been cracking down on boda boda drivers who travel without helmets or permits, which is basically all of them. He grabbed the driver by the belt of his pants, as someone else pushed his idle bike towards the curb. I watched until the police officer started watching me, making it clear I was doing something I should not have been doing, and then I continued. The man in the Jaguar continued along his way as well.

The siren in the distance continued.

Nothing big or violent or obvious seemed to have happened, yet it also seemed that much had transpired. Everyone just continued on their way, the unremarkable quiet now filled with noise, the street filled with cars, the unnamed boda going to meet an unknown fate.

Copyright Glenna Gordon. The walls at the Jinja Road Roundabout were painted with political empowerment slogans and murals just weeks before Chogm in November 2007.

I posted a few days ago, asking, where have all the Ugandan political bloggers gone?

First off, my post elicited a directly political post from Ugandan Insomniac, which includes a bunch of newspaper covers (something most people out of Uganda don’t get to see even if they check the Vision and Monitor websites every day) and had some much needed commentary on Andrew Mwenda’s new enterprise – which may be losing its edge, as more than one person has said to me. (Which makes me think back to my original comment on self censorship, but that’s another can of worms for a another post.)

Next, a great commnet from Antipop on why there might not be more political bloggers:

To be honest with you most of us come to blogger to escape from it all. The fires, the term limits, the land wrangles, GAVI funds, presidential jet, potholes, fuel prices, press freedom, FDC, NRM,…it is everywhere you turn. the papers, the radio, tv, in the bar, even the woman that sells cassava roots in the market will have something to say about how the soaring prices have everything to do with a MUNYANKOLE president. the last thing you wnat to do is come to blogger and find it. I guess we are just tired. There is only so much whinning we can do.

And while I am particularly fond of whinning, of both the political and nonpolitical types, Jackfruity blogs to point out that Citizen Media doesn’t have to be about politics:

One of the most important things to come of out last month’s
Global Voices Summit is that the political voices aren’t the only ones that need to be amplified. Cultural and social voices are equally important to an understanding of other places, and several recent posts attempt to present readers with a more nuanced view of countries that are only discussed internationally when a crisis brings them to our attention.

Meanwhile, another expat in Uganda laments the difficulties of trying to get more Citizen Media started. She asks, Can Citizen Media Change Uganda?

In short, no. During Elizabeth Kameo’s training on writing and gathering news, it became apparent that some of the participants were not convinced of the changes citizen journalism can incur. Most in the crowd did not believe that writing a blog post would motivate the Ugandan government into action. They’re probably right. Chances are the Ugandan government will pay little attention to a scattering of blogs – many left stagnant for long periods of time. There is a slim probability that someone posting about Kampala’s man-holes – pot holes that can engulf a man, more often a small child, that are found on sidewalks and other obscure places – will be filled once an MP reads about it. Chances are the government will not pass the domestic relations bill into an act. Or will they train policemen to respect recently passed legislation on rape, domestic abuse and circumcision.

Though people aren’t blogging much about the things listed above here, perhpas that’s because the need is less urgent than for people in other countries who do write more political blogs. (This is a statement with no empircal evidence, just a conjecture I’d be happy to abandon in the face of any such evidence.) An Associated Press article here showed how Zimbabweans are using blogs and text messages as a source of information. The article implies that people are using these means because there aren’t other means avaliable.

Maybe all of us living in Uganda should be glad that blogs have not yet had to serve this kind of function and that leisure and a relatively stable situtation in this country allows for putting up photos of kittens (which, by the way, ARE SO CUTE) and bashing Facebook groups.

After all, I love kittens and bashing Facebook almost as much as whining, of both the political and nonpolitical kind.

I didn’t realize the temporary and shared housing sections were not yet up on the Homes and Plots when I wrote my last post. Check back later for more updates. And since I’ve gotten several emails already, here’s my two shillings on where to stay in Kampala when you first arrive:

Budget: Red Chili Backpacker Hostel is where everyone who has everything they own in one pack tends to stay. Wifi, a bar and restaurant on the premises. CONTACT: off Port Bell Road, Bugolobi. Tel: 0772 509150, 0752 584054. Tel/Fax: (041) 223903. E-mail: chilli@infocom.co.ug.

Mid-Range: For about $40 to 50, you can stay in the Acacia Apartments, which have a convenient Kololo location. They are nicely furnished, have a full kitchen and good security. A place to stay if you have a lot of stuff or want more privacy than a dorm-like hostel. Cheaper for extended stays. CONTACT: John Babiiha Avenue, Tel: 0772 471 624. E-mail: sustainenergy@usec.org.uk.

Higher End: The Speke Hotel is in the center of Nakasero, the downtown part of Kampala, and (apparently – I’ve never seen them) has nice rooms. But you can’t beat the location. Watch out for boda drivers and special hires who will charge you more if you grab one in front of the hotel. Best to walk about five meters and then get a better price. CONTACT: 7/9 Nile Avenue. Tel: (0414) 235332/5, 259221, Fax: (041) 235345. E-mail: speke@spekehotel.com.

For more places to stay, and a general resource about Kampala, visit The Eye Magazine’s website and then pick up a hard copy when you get to town for a lot of useful contacts.

TO FIND A ROOM IN A HOUSE: After you arrive, check out the message boards at Garden City, Kisementi, Katch the Sun, Cafe Pap, and Web City. Answer ads, or put up your own.

TO FIND YOUR OWN PLACE: Not easy, by any means. That’s where Homes and Plots can help. Check out the sections on brokers and services, and check back often for more updates on the site. Note: a lot of brokers will try and put you in a pre-furnished place. This will cost more money, and often the furniture is the kind of hideous that only the combination of magenta and orange can produce. Some are nice, though. If you’re staying in Kampala for more than six months, it’s best to get a place unfurnished, save on rent, and buy stuff on the side of the road.

I get a lot of emails from people who are moving to Uganda who want to secure housing before actually arriving. Or at least research a bit. Up until now, I’ve always told interested parties to just sit tight and figure it out eventually.

That is no longer the case. Uganda Homes and Plots is a project by a friend, long in the pipeline, now on the web. I wish something like this had been around when I was looking for housing in Uganda, because trust me, it sucks. Really.

If you’re interested in more information on the web site or housing in Uganda or the project in general, let me know and I’ll put you in touch with the site’s creator. Check back to Uganda Homes and Plots as the site develops, look for the free magazine in Kampala, and watch the housing market in Uganda go virtual.

Awhile back, I wrote about how I was doing a story that involved newspaper personal ads.

The story proved much harder to report than I had expected. My idea was to speak with people who were living with HIV about finding partners through the personals. Every week, I culled the adverts and sent emails and text messages to people who identified as HIV positive in their ads.

I received few replies. And some people bothered to reply only to tell me never to contact them again. One woman replied, but then wouldn’t meet me. One woman set a meeting time with me and didn’t show. Another man replied but really only seemed interested in dating me. Another person met me only to complain about how someone had found his email address in the New Vision and subsequently conned him out of several hundred dollars.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time trying to report this story, and a very small amount of time actually reporting it. The result is here. One of my only successful interviews was with this lady, who was thoughtful and funny – I could have spoken with her for hours. About six pages of single spaced typed notes were whittled down to this 600 word story.

It would have been great if I could have talked to a bunch of people and gotten multiple perspectives, written a really interesting feature that showed a real trend emerging, but as it is, I had a few sodas with a very nice lady.

Joanna: “Dating is hectic, so I put a personal ad in the paper”

KAMPALA, Joanna*, 25, an HIV-positive schoolteacher who lives in the Ugandan capital, Kampala, decided to take a chance on love by putting a personal advertisement in the newspaper. She spoke to IRIN/PlusNews before her first date with a man who responded.

“I’ve only dated one person who doesn’t have HIV. It’s kind of hectic, because you don’t know your future or how it’s going to be. You’re not ready to pass on the infection to this other person. That’s why I put up my ad in the Meeting Point section of the New Vision [a national daily].

I just wanted to see, would it work? Does it work? But then … I opened my e-mail and there were a lot of e-mails from guys – maybe 20.

I’m going on a date this Sunday. We’re not so sure what we’re going to do – I don’t like sitting down when I’m meeting a person for the first time, so maybe we’ll go somewhere or do something. Somewhere with an activity, not just to talk and eat.

What I liked about him is that when we talk, he treats you like a person. The others were interested in ‘How do you look?’ and I don’t want a person who is interested in how I look, but in my character. We have talked on the phone for three weeks now. He works upcountry – he’s an administrator with some NGO [non-governmental organisation] dealing with HIV.

I hope he’ll be like the kind of person I imagined on the phone; someone who is fun, not someone who has sadness or is into depression. Some people go on and on about their status and that kind of thing – they haven’t gotten over it. I hope he shows some character; I want someone who is free to be himself.

I’m scared, I really want it to work out, but what if it doesn’t? What if we get there and we can’t talk? What if we communicate so much on the phone but then there’s nothing in person?

READ MORE…

With 1,400 members and 645 wall posts, few things ring as true as some of the comments on the Facebook group You know you’ve been in Uganda for too long when…

-You argue with the police officer over the bribe whilst driving yourself to the station
-When Al’s Bar is a form of Speed Dating
-You start referring to people as “this one” and “that one”
-It’s 32 degrees Celsius and you still see people dressed in sweaters and winter parkas
-When you point with your lips and say yes with your eyebrows
-When going to Garden City is even more special because the escalator is on

You go through a period of adjustment at the beginning, where everything is new and different and exciting. Where it’s hilarious that someone’s wearing a sweater when it’s so warm! Where every what? Every sentence can make you what? Can make you laugh.

But really, you know you’ve been in Uganda too long when all those things aren’t even that funny anymore. After awhile, you won’t tell a boda to turn left because he will go up to the right because you didn’t tell him which way to “slope.” You don’t ask for your change, you ask for your “balance.” When bargaining takes less than a minute because you’re so accustomed to it.

So yes, I’m feeling a little too accustomed to Uganda right now. I never get lost in the city because I know where I’m going. I never have crazy phone call encounters where I try to explain who I am and what I’m doing because I already know how to do that in a way that makes sense to people.

I’m going on a vacation soon, thankfully, since it’s much needed. (Anyone been to Addis Ababa before? I have a few days of layover there en route to the final destination.)

Before then, and also for when I return, I’m going to try to get lost. Not literally – but to just walk to places I don’t know, talk to people I don’t need to speak to for a story or a photo or a purpose, and generally try and find new perspective.

Suggestions welcomed.

You know you’ve been in Uganda too long when…

-The pentecostal church in the compound next door keeping you awake until 4 in the morning is cause to spend time googling David Matsanga.

I’m attending the HIV Implementers Conference this week. It’s a whole bunch of PEPFAR officials in town for a few days.

A few facts about the conference, compared to facts about ARVs:

1,500 people attending the conference
$22 for lunch

$33,000 for lunch. In Kampala, you can get a nice local lunch for about Ush 3,000 ($1.50). The conference goes from Wednesday to Saturday, so that’s 4 lunch sessions, for a total of $132,000.

$15 Generic ARVs for one month

Therefore, if all these delegates forgo their pricey lunch, 8,800 people could be on ARVs for a month, or 733 people for a year.

Just wanted to plug an event taking place this weekend…

La Fontaine, Kisementi, Saturday, 24 May

Nagenda

This one-night-only event will act as a fund raising event to help Nagenda International Academy of Art and Design (www.nagenda.org) open its doors in September 2008. Our featured artist is Kizito Maria Kasule, Makerere University Professor and Founding Director of NIAAD.

NIAAD will be the first of its kind in East Africa! Slated for official opening in September 2008, NIAAD will be a self-sustaining institution where local and international artists will hone their creative and entrepreneurial skills. Located on the edge of Lake Victoria, NIAAD will provide a lush backdrop for students, instructors and volunteers to gather at a top-notch facility. Artists will be inspired to promote local arts and crafts techniques; learn cutting edge design technology and encourage one another through a network of alumnae and international artists. NIAAD is a fully registered community-based organization within Ssisa sub-county Wakiso District in Central Uganda.

NIAAD’s mission is to establish a continuous and self-sustaining center where mediums of artistic expression will be learned and appreciated. Their objectives include:

1) to establish a local and international arts training center for people of Uganda and beyond;

2) to preserve, promote and utilize indigenous art and craft skills through training and research, fostering a sense of community pride and shared history;

3) to create employment in the arts by training school dropouts, orphans and other disadvantaged people;

4) to provide art training in a high-caliber academy setting to students whose primary and secondary schools cannot employ art teachers;

5) to provide and equip ordinary people with art and designing entrepreneurship skills which they can use to market their art and craft products.

NIAAD will not open its doors without the help of art lovers like you! Please join us for this special event and schedule your tour of the NIAAD center with us!

Ugandan Insomniac raves aboutWar Dance. She got to see it today at the Amakula festival. Unfortunately, I was busy. I’ve wanted to see War Dance for some time, ever since I heard about it months ago, sometime circa the Oscars.

It’s the story of some kids in Pader, lives torn apart by decades of conflict with the Lord’s Resistance Army, finding hope in a dance competition held in Kampala.

I’ve seen many a live Acholi dance. In Kampala and elsewhere. Conference organizers tend to have a bunch of Acholis perform at places like the Serena, in the front of lots of foreigners attending plenary sessions in rooms filled with identical chairs.

Seeing a dance, especially like the one I have photographed here, somewhere outside Kitgum, is pretty amazing. (Seeing it in the conference hall at the Serena is less amazing.) But there’s something that is it’s own kind of amazing about a film. And there’s something that’s an even greater kind of amazing about seeing a film taking place somewhere you’ve been.

But it seems that films about Africa rarely screen in Africa. And I’ve missed my chance to see this film, captured in Uganda, in Uganda. The film festival continues, and I’ll have the chance to see some other mediocre hits like The Science of Sleep, and maybe another flick or two.

Meanwhile, at Garden City, Kampala’s shopping mall courtesy of Janet Museveni, the Cineplex currently is playing Iron Man. While we get most American movies here a few months late, big production companies are starting to realize they lose revenue from ripped DVDs when they delay international releases.

(Cineplex has a website - last updated in December of 2007)

I’m excited about seeing a comic book figure on big screen, but I’d rather see an Acholi.

And forget about me, what about an Acholi seeing an Acholi on the big screen? I’m no film studies expert (I have a very useful degree in Art History) but there’s something about seeing a movie about your group that is somehow a meaningful experience. It’s a trace, proof that you’re there and people know about you and what’s happening to you. They can see you, and you can see yourself anew through their sight.

I’m glad for festivals like Amakula. But the chance for Africans to see Africans on screen shouldn’t be limited to a week a year through a festival sponsored by donors.

New stories I’ve written for PlusNews.

Hard labor for HIV-positive IDPs in Kampala
KIREKA, 1 May 2008 (PlusNews) – Melia Alanyo, 46, left northern Uganda for the capital city, Kampala, in the late 1980s when the rebel Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) started abducting, attacking and killing people in her village.

She has spent the last 20 years in Kireka, a low-income suburb on the city’s outskirts, collecting and breaking rocks into chips at a local quarry. For every 20-litre jerry can she fills, she earns 100 Ugandan shillings (US$0.06). On a good day, when she is feeling strong and can take the sun beating down on her back as she chips away at the rocks, she takes home about 1,000 Ugandan shillings (US$0.60). (MORE…)

Hear Our Voices: I tell everyone I’m HIV positive
KIREKA, Carmela Acen fled her home in northern Uganda when the rebel Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) began its insurgency campaign in 1986. She told IRIN/PlusNews about her life in Kireka, a poor township in the capital, Kampala.

“I couldn’t stay longer in Kitgum [district in northern Uganda]. Two uncles and two relatives were killed. I couldn’t stay in my village, Lukung.

“I went to Kampala and stayed with a sister in Kibuli [suburb of Kampala], and then moved to Kireka. I am caring for 28 children left behind by my brothers and sisters and in-laws. Most of the parents have died of AIDS, one of cholera and the others in the war. (MORE…)