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.