Uganda: Kampala, the National Theater

Dear Friends,

I want to back track a moment:

In Kenneth’s car driving from Ndere. Did I mention that Kenneth is the funniest man in Uganda? It’s official. He was voted funniest man this past year.

I ask Erik what we are doing here in Uganda. He looks to the left and up. Isn’t that the body language for remembering? Centers. He counts off on his fingers.

An arts center.

A refugee center.

A religious center.

He has a way of occurring instantaneously with pattern that I really admire.

So, what are we doing in Uganda? We spend three days in Kampala staying at Ndere, an arts center. Kampala as center of art and culture in Uganda. Ndere, Makerere, National Theater, Theater Factory at the National Theater. Then, we will travel to the north to a school for war-affected children. Hope North. It is run by a fantastic performer at Ndere, Sam Okello. Okello has a big heart and he’s created a warm place for young people who have had some rough experiences. My sense is that Northern Uganda, with its troubles with the LRA and its neglect from the center of culture in Uganda, makes visible some of the divides that exist throughout Uganda.

A Ugandan friend recently writes me – What happens when over 40 nations (the ones popularly known as "tribes") are forced to merge into one "nation" under a system of governance that is unfamiliar? She's referring to the arbitrary lines drawn by European powers over which area would form the British Colony of Uganda in the late 19th century. She's referring to the question of who was liberated when the British left? She's referring to democracy and I remember our visit to Makerere a few years ago and the question written on the blackboard: does democracy make sense for Africa?

We visit a religious center. A community of self-declared Jews in Western Uganda who are working with Muslims and Christians in their area to create a model for peaceful coexistence and development.

Three centers.

Today, we have rolex at Ndere Center. We see people talking about rolex on TV (a skit about how they are the fad pauper food and the lengths rich people will go to order from street Rolex stands on the sly.) As jolly tourists, we are determined to try them. It’s japati with eggs rolled up in it. Japati is like a tortilla, but thicker. Maybe a cross between tortilla and nan. We learn that Ndere Center makes some delicious rolex.

Taxi to the National Theater. A conversation with local artists and a play reading. I think I ate too much rolex, because I kept falling asleep during the conversation with local artists. I missed a lot of it. Quite frankly, I am frustrated too. Everyone wants to talk about how it is nearly impossible to make a living as an artist. I have very little patience. Why is this sense of sacrifice and struggle so embedded in my own image of artist? Hey, we are not Western donors, I want to say. I’m an art student graduating into a recession. I have no illusions that I will make my living off directing. How is it different in this context to ask someone to build a career out of something that can’t support them (or their extended family) financially? Maybe it's not. And why do I think I’m asking anything, falling asleep in a folding chair? What is my responsibility now that I’m in the room? Maybe it's just to wake up.

A woman whose name I wish I remember shares a script with us. She has written a play about people who are selling on the street. A man is hoping to get a promotion/ a new job. There is a building with mysterious upstairs entrance. An ascended class place. I remember the expectation that a character will get promoted, will be accepted into this high place, but in the end, nothing changes. People below stay below. The author is a quiet woman with a kind face and glasses. She used to write radio dramas with my friend Deborah.

We have this strange thing now. Free time. Amanda goes off to buy an African dress. Others in search of an internet café. I have not exchanged any Ugandan money, so I stay at the National. I watch a movie about Australia with Arthur on his laptop – what’s it called – the one with Nicole Kidman and High Jackman about the disappeared indigenous children? I wander the traditional, tourist craft booths behind the National Theater. Kampala is a big city and we are right at the heart of it – lots of traffic. Big hotels and office buildings. The area is not really as green as this, but here’s a sense of what I’m talking about:

Kampala always feels alive, so alive. People are more outgoing here then in Rwanda. Kampala is loud and fast and little dirtier than Kigali. More like New York, then, say, Portland. It’s got that gritty edge.

We return to Ndere. Ndere is a little paradise with big trees and wireless internet and hot showers. Ndere Troupe is rehearsing a show for their 25^th anniversary. I sit in on rehearsals. They dance and dance and dance. I think the wooden floorboards will break from so much life. But they do not.

Tomorrow, we go northToday was made possible by the California Institute of the Arts.