Comedy outfit makes reading news fun

Wow is the perfect word to describe the Newspaper theatre show staged by the FourSum quartet at the National Theatre on Easter Monday. After many writing off comedy as a dead and buried field, it seems Edwin Mukalazi, Felix Bbale Bwanika, Mpaata Williamson Otako and Simon Kivumbi are here to revive it.

As many comedy outfits sprang up, many easily burnt their fingers with the end result being recycled material tailored around sex or tribal jokes. To set themselves apart, the quartet decided to stage four shows a year, so as to get ample time and space to create new material. Their skits and jokes are also picked from stories that made headlines throughout the three-month period.

FourSum Newspaper Theatre tells stories from all newspapers, bringing them to the public readers in an artistic form. Monday night’s jokes traded on the recent disappearance of Malaysian Airlines, Uneb results, Golola and, of course, the Katikkiro’s fundraising drive.

It was surprising seeing news stories given fictional, satirical and artistic interpretations without altering their original intended messages. Playing on the intricacies of language barriers, they explained the adventures of Katikkiro Peter Mayiga and his Ttaffaali drive hilariously; in their version, the Basoga offered Mayiga a Tata of 1,000 bricks. Ttaffaali is Luganda for ‘brick’, although in Mayiga’s fundraising drive, it is used metaphorically.

Others such as the signing of the anti-gay bill into law got the audience cracking, even as there was a big number of expatriates. FourSum took no breaks, performing for two and half hours straight; any wardrobe changes were done on stage, yet it remained descent. What was meant to be a break was consumed by their guest performer and linkman, Kenneth ‘Pablo’ Kimuli. His role was to provide transition from one skit to another; he would read a news story, create debate around it or interpret it in his comic way, then leave the cast to re-enact the story. Pablo enjoyed himself as he kept throwing a few punchlines like the confession that he was once in a Gay choir – the Gayaza Archdiocese Youth choir. FourSum and their newspaper theatre may have raised the bar with good timing, stage management and execution.

The end of my love affair with Bubbles O' Leary's

LINDSAY KANKUNDA
When 8.00 pm found me in the area code, I decided to pass by Bubbles O’ Leary’s and have a peek. There were about two females and two male guards at the entrance. As I was about to open my bag for them to check it, one male guard snapped at me:
“Gwe Nyabo! Oyagala chi?” (You woman! What do you want?)
Astounded, I simply stared at him.
“I’m asking you! Who do you know inside there?” he growled, in Luganda.
“Why are you talking to me like this?” I asked him quietly.
His demeanor grew in hostility. The source of the contempt on his face was a mystery to me. I stared a little bit harder.
“Me, I’m asking you, who do you know inside there? What do you want?!” he said again, in Luganda.
I wondered why he wasn’t speaking to me in English. Why he was assuming I was a Muganda. Last I heard, I looked like a Kenyan. A Rwandese sometimes. What was this Luganda business?
“Why are talking to me like this?” I asked again. He was clearly losing his temper as he demanded again to know what I wanted. I heard another security guard snicker. My situation was starting to draw the attention of witnesses.
“Right now, nothing”, I replied. “I’m going to walk away, and come back to speak with someone in upper management”.
“Kaale, genda! Genda!” he sneered. (It’s okay. You go!)
As I tremblingly walked away, I heard a voice say, “Abakyala abayagala Abazungu” (These women want white men)
I thought it was the guard but as he later denied it vehemently enough to sound truthful, I assume it was someone else who said these words.
I found my five friends having dinner at the Bistro restaurant in Kisementi and it took me a whole three minutes to collect myself. I felt demeaned. I felt abused. I felt really really bad. Color me crazy, but I also found myself trying very hard not to cry. I am not exaggerating when I say that I was almost having a panic attack.
“I’M NOT GOING TO LOSE IT IN THIS FANCY RESTAURANT!” I repeated in my head, like a mantra.
“I’ve had a really upsetting experience at Bubbles”, I eventually gasped, before I haltingly told my friends what had transpired. In a matter of minutes, I had the number of Ollie, the manager, in my phone, and had made an appointment to see him that same night.
Over the phone, I had asked Ollie if there was an invite only event going down at Bubbles to explain at least part of the craziness I had been subjected to. He had said, ‘there is an event, yes’.
Well, we thought, if there was, was it difficult for the guard so say with a sympathetic grin, “I’m sorry but do you know someone inside? This is an invite only party”.
Upon further research, Bubbles lost that lifeline. When my friends checked it up on Facebook, it was an open event for the public. Just another great crazy weekend at Bubbles.
I was told Ollie was a great guy, so the whole thing must be a misunderstanding. One of my friends, Shawn (a non-Ugandan) even begun celebrating.
“You know what’s gonna happen, right?” he crowed. “No manager needs his security chasing away customers. He’s gonna let us all in for free, and offer us a round of drinks on the house!”
We smacked our lips happily. Heh! Kumbe! We were about to get served.
We found Ollie, to his credit, already waiting at the entrance with the guard who had so frightened me. We’ll call him Guard 1. He had a colleague with him who I shall call Guard 2.
When I told Ollie what had happened, he said-
Wait! Are you sitting down, dear reader? You need to be sitting down to continue this story. If you have a glass or a cup of something in your hand, place it upon the table before you resume, there’s a dear. Okay, back to what Ollie said.
“We have a problem with some of the people that come here. It can get really crowded sometimes”, he explained. “So these guys decide who can and cannot enter”.
It registered in my head what Ollie had said. Like a slap in the face. These guards had the mandate to decide I wasn’t the kind of person they wanted in Bubbles just by LOOKING at me?
My friend Grace, shocked, asked Ollie, “What’s your screening process? How do your security decide who can and cannot enter Bubbles?”
Guard 1 said, “I was not even rude to her. I just called her ‘Nyabo’. That is a term of respect here in Uganda”.
My friend James retorted, “There is nothing respectful about saying ‘Gwe Nyabo!’”.
Guard 2 interjected with, “I was sitting quietly in a corner and witnessed the whole thing. She was only asked politely what she wanted and who she knew inside. All she had to do was answer. Her behavior, saying she was going to look for upper management, was not good! The way she said she was going to do that is not good!”
Did this guy just say, in front of the manager, that all I had to was tell them what I wanted, and who I knew inside? I peered at the exterior of Bubbles curiously. Was Beyonce inside?
My friend Mary, genuinely curious, asked Guard 2, “But why would you ask her what she wants? This is a bar! Clearly she’s here to buy a drink. So WHY would you even ask her?”
Grace was equally baffled. “Why do you think she was here?” she demanded. “You put the event up on Facebook, asking people to come. You think she was confused and just happened to show up at your doorstep?”
Ollie tried (and failed) to be helpful again.
“Well, these guys were here and I wasn’t”, he said. “I didn’t see what transpired. But it’s okay to select who gets to enter a bar. I’ve been all over the world and I’ve seen it happen”.
Shawn wasn’t having this, no sir.
“In some countries, women can’t drive. That doesn’t make it right” he protested.
“Yeah, but these guys have been working here eight years”, Oliver said again. “They know what they’re doing”.
I asked the one question that needed asking.
“Do you ask everybody what they want when they show up here?”
“Yes” Guard 1 said.
“Oh, cut the crap!” Shawn exploded. “No one has ever stopped me when I’m entering this bar. Why don’t we call this what it is? It’s a matter of black and white!”
That would be one way to look at it.
“That’s not true”, Ollie protested. “There are many black people in this bar”.
Shawn and I stood aside to share a private giggle at this ludicrous situation.
“Sometimes we have hundreds of people here”, Ollie continued. “These guys get to keep control to prevent chaos”.
Chaos at 8.00 pm? If you say so.
“But why Lindsey?” Mary was insisting. She swept her arms in my direction in case the guards had forgotten who I was. “What is it about her that made your guards decide to interrogate her? Is she a threat? If so, how?”
Grace asked again, “Ollie! You’re not answering my simple question. What exactly is your screening process?”
Thankfully, Guard 1 told us what’s up.
“How would you like it if someone stole your bag?” he asked Mary.
“You know, some women can also be prostitutes”, Guard 2 said.
Ah. So I looked like a thief and a prostitute.
The other two female security guards were now up and running their mouths about ‘this troublesome girl’ who did not know her place, refusing to respect rules, defending their male colleagues strongly. A boda-boda man nearby came in to defend his friends. I and mine were being hated on roundly.
And the manager was standing firm with his people, I was starting to realize.
“Okay. Let’s stop wasting time”, Grace announced. “Clearly, you guys see nothing wrong with what’s happened here tonight. So for the record, you want us to know that you, security, will look at someone, and decide that you do not want them in your bar?”
“Yes”, Guard 2 said, firmly, with management nodding away in support. “It is our right”.

MESSAGE TO ALL BUSINESS OWNERS
STOP giving your security the right to abuse the very customers that are walking into your premises. It is becoming a common phenomenon for establishments to treat customers like they are doing them a favor letting them in the door.
You’re really not.

MESSAGE TO INDIVIDUALS
Stop giving security guards the power to make you feel less than you are. If a guard disrespects you, demand an apology from that guard via management and if it doesn’t come, assume that the management of the establishment deems you unworthy of respect. Don’t go there again.

MESSAGE TO BUBBLES MANAGEMENT
I believe your security treated me like they did because I was a lone black female who did not look like-oba what?
If I’d had a man by my side, I’d never have been questioned. If I’d come with friends, I’d never have been questioned. If I’d been all geeky, texting away on a gadget, I may never have been questioned. And here’s the most ironic bit: If I’d come made up to the nines in six inch heels and actually been a whore, I’d never have been questioned!
But boring ol’ Lindsey, dressed super casually with flat shoes that kept her ‘grounded’?
Your security made a split second decision that I was an uneducated thief from a nearby slum who did not speak English, who was going to pick pockets, and who was going to disturb your white men, when I clearly was not their type.
You collection of assholes. I shall not be disrespected because I don’t look classy enough. Or wealthy enough. Because my hair is short and natural, and I don’t have a little black dress and fancy high heels. Because all of a sudden, after years of being a loyal customer, you have a fucking TYPE and I’m not it anymore.
Because your security were on a power trip and decided to treat with derision the little ‘local’ woman who they thought couldn’t fight back.
Please know you all made a mistake. Here’s me fighting back. Tell your security, since they are the ‘real’ management, that this thieving, broke-ass, white-man-hunting heifer got their message loud and clear. Barring a collection of major miracles, wrapped up neat in a box with a chocolate and a dildo on top, I am NEVER entering Bubbles O’ Leary’s again.
May this post also help you with your crowd control issues.

Bringing the news on stage

Famous rapper Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs says art is the way of life – it interprets moods, situations and on the other time prophecies.
The Foursum Foundation, a quartet of actors Edwin Mukalazi, Mpaata Williams Otako, Felix Bwanika and Simon Kivumbi must have had this in their mind when the introduced Uganda’s first ever Newspaper Theatre.
Newspaper Theatre is comprised of improvising of stories in all Ugandan newspapers to bring them to the public readers in an artistic form with physical and improvisational theatre techniques of acting.
The shows involve a link man, and one female actress, these are usually guests.
The link man usually reads out the story that is going to be acted next, from an actual newspaper and interprets it in his comic understanding before the other actors take over.
This being the second show, the group is backing on the services of Pablo Kimuli as the link man and funny girl Carol Kunihira of NTV’s Tricksters, Katemba Mu Kooti and currently Deceptions.
When they premiered the production on January 31st, the grouped wowed with their comic and dramatic twists to news stories like Golola’s win against Tugume, the Eclipse, UPE and PLE and the unforgettable skit of Mandela in heaven.
Even the hard political news was interesting to look at, and now with a series of events like Amama Mbabazi saga, another Golola win, Lukwago drama and the Malaysian lost plane, they promise to take their audience on a rollercoaster of current affairs.
One of the group members, Otako says that the reason they came up with the newspaper theatre was to escape the common dish of comedy served nowadays mostly comprising of sex and tribal jokes.
Newspaper Theatre is a quarterly event that shows at the National Theatre after every three months.
“Presenting news that has been published in three months gives us an edge on content,” says Bwanika noting that for a show of two hours the well can never run dry.  
But to spice up things, the group is planning on doing an improvised skit from the favorite news story of someone in the audience.
The show takes place on today at the National Theatre, 7pm. Tickets go for Ushs20,000/=.

Prof Kirumira returns with cultural artifacts

When professors at Makerere University’s Margaret Trolley’s school of Art give their all to an exhibition in terms of space, money and food, the art involved must be as rich as a massed African musical and as haunting as a village mansion – all those memories.
No one could have imagined the impressive things art, wood and metal can do until they attended the Archives – Tradition and Artistic Inspiration by prof. Rose Kirumira Namubiru that opened at the Margaret Trolley Gallery on Friday.
It’s a show about family, faith and a reminder of the different tree species that Uganda has been endowed with but slowly becoming extinct. 
Though, Kirumira notes that she didn’t cut down any trees, in fact, she picked on wastes from already cut Mivules and mahoganies.
She says that her main objective was to create awareness for Uganda’s material culture and take part in a discussion on collective nationalism and its relationship with the artisanal skills developed by our ancestors.
In the exhibition, Kirumira presents work based on various traditional objects. In some ways the works on display are repositories; they achieve certain traditional forms, patterns, technologies and functions - It was clear she preyed on culture to veer out emotions as well as express herself.
However, Kirumira’s work also exhibits the kind of freedom she must have had while doing the work on show; she didn’t allow herself to be constrained by her own traditions thus exploited depths of different African and world cultures to get her message across; some of the pictures like The family portrait and the holy family are combined with key locks she picked from a dumpster in Denmark and others pieces of wood were collected from other trash and dustbins around the country.
The most sought after piece on showcase was the culminating Month of May; a collection of used tea bags. “It represents that particular month and the cycle of artistic production in relation to the monthly reproductive cycle,” she says, the tea bags in the craft are at different stages of use and framed in a surgical band as a means of protection.
Month of May was she was attending the Thami Mnyele Residency, Netherlands in 2003. The work also featured in the exhibition Afrika; Here and Now in Amsterdam.
Some of the pieces are personal, Thesis;- that happens to be her PHD research, the work has a pile of books placed on the few surviving colonial tables that were used at Makerere when it had just opened ninety one years ago. She made the books out of organic materials and wood bits, the piece is completed by her real thesis, a ninety something well numbered, labeled but empty book.
Kirumira is a senior lecturer at Makerere School of Industrial and Fine Art, she’s one of the few widely recognized and well exhibited female sculptors in Uganda diversifying through relief and round categories of the genre. She’s also made outstanding public monuments such as the statue of Kabaka Ronald Mutebi at the Buganda parliament where she worked under renown prof. Francis Nnaggenda.

Having killed as a rustler, Lokuro now dances for the survivors

With the backdrop of shrubs, the glowing sunset romances the eyes; it is no secret, we are stuck in a far- off place.
For the purpose that has led us to this end, it is quite surprising why anyone with an artistic mind could choose such a seemingly dangerous ground for a dance.
As we are still puzzled, we see a group of boys and girls – they are the reason we came in the first place – singing and dancing. Even without understanding the language we can tell the song is sad.
As the first dancer strides through, you can sense the presentation projects energy, typical of an African dance. The girls take the lead, gently pounding the ground with their feet and their arms swinging in the air, creating an impression that they are punching some imaginary evil force.
Clad in striped sky-blue vests – high enough to expose their belly buttons – with huge bead adornments on the heads, necks, wrists and waists, the look is complemented by a Scottish-like kilt. The boy dancers follow. Unlike the struggling girls, the boys are using their hands to create music.
They pound their chests and clap their hands in perfect synchrony, then join the girls. Their leader jumps, claps, twists and rocks while throwing his head in sharp, angular gestures; there is an ultimate scowling expression of determination and ferocity on his face.
His name is Lokuro Totuja. He is trying his best to get the steps for the edonga dance right. He and the other dancers have to perform for the American ambassador who will visit the area in two days’ time and thus the reason for this extra effort. Years back, you could barely find Lokuro enjoying a dance, let alone hanging out during the day.

He was a youth of the jungle; a traveller’s nightmare and a death merchant in his own way. But even then, he was a leader. A leader of one of the most dangerous cattle-rustling groups in the eastern part of the Karamoja sub-region.
“I started raiding at an early age; every poor person was doing it for survival,” Lokuro says.
Lokuro is born to a rich father who owned cattle, but in Karamoja, many children are denied the chance to be young; so much so that instead of getting the basic education, they turn into the family breadwinners.
“I’ve killed very many people and besides those that were rival tribes, most of the people we killed were innocent. We knew it though, the anger inside you overrode everything else including someone else’s innocence,” he says.
Poverty aside, Lokuro’s reasons to take up arms were never farfetched. As a child, he witnessed his father fall from grace to grass when his entire herd of cattle was taken by rustlers.
“I was angry with whoever stole my father’s cattle, I joined the raiders to regain all my father’s stolen cattle and glory,” he says.
Though, even when they rustled hundreds of cattle, the crew was usually interested in the blood and barely the meat. They would suck blood out of cattle and mix it with raw millet for food.
“There was no way we could waste a cow by eating it; it was very important in trade,” Lokuro says.
And since the Aids stigma is still high in Karamoja, Lokuro also reveals that they also used the blood to detect who among the members was infected with HIV. They believed that when a person with HIV/Aids drunk the blood, they would instantly drop dead.

When none of them dropped dead, they then trusted each other more that in case of a successful loot, they could share anything including women. Cows were also used as ransom whenever the warriors were either ambushed or arrested by the soldiers.
“Cows would buy freedom; we used to give some of them to the soldiers so that they could let us move [freely] even after we had been arrested; or even buy some of their armour. At times when we had serious missions, we would hire their guns,” he says.
The other arms merchandise would come from Sudan and the Turkana region of Kenya. There were also local traders that sold bullets, gun cleaners and other arms accessories in kiosks and retail shops.
“It was hard making money when you didn’t stock bullets; it was a faster moving product than soap or sugar,” says one of the shopkeepers in Moroto town.
According to the Amudat Resident District Commissioner, Stephen Nsubuga Bewayo, arms trade was common at the peak of cattle rustling between 1990 and 2004.
“People had replaced the currency with bullets; they could buy food using bullets, use them to pay for taxis…” he says.

Peter Andema, a driver with one of the NGOs operating in Moroto, survived cattle rustlers twice and one of those times, it was Lokuro’s group.
“The first time I was driving a group of missionaries to the town centre when our car was shot at,” Andema reminisces. He left the scene unhurt although his missionary friend was not as lucky; he sustained injuries that later killed him.
The second time, Andema recalls: “I remember [Lokuro] very well. They were over 50 of them holding guns and machetes. They stopped the car and Lokuro stepped forward and asked for money. I panicked and when my hand reached for the pockets, it’s just a Shs 5,000 note that came out and it is what I gave him.
I was scared because it was little, although I was shocked when he happily let us go; we left wondering how they would share money that little since they were many.”
About this incident, Lokuro says they were going for a raid that time and their minds were focused elsewhere, that is why they easily let Andema’s convoy go, noting that it would have been a different story had the passengers met them on their way back from some unsuccessful raid.
Today, Lokuro and his former combatants have joined the fight to end the use of arms and it took a family member and best friend’s life for him to come to this resolution.
“One day we went to raid, and everything backfired. They killed many of our members and some of us were captured,” he says.
This is the first time I hear remorse in his voice. The muscles on his face ripple as he talks about this. He started living in fear; his 30-plus crew had been reduced to seven. It was about that time that he met John Robert Adupa, a Moroto-based local artiste.
Adupa had been working on convincing different warrior groups to embrace peace and his efforts were yielding fruit.
“I was running a group called the Mogoth Mobile Crew. We would perform in schools while spreading messages about abstinence, cleanliness and dangers of violence,” says Adupa.
The soldiers, Adupa says, in an effort to bring peace to Karamoja, had resorted to a full fire confrontation against cattle rustlers.
“The raiders had attacked a van and killed a team of five peace negotiators, [most of them] foreign,” Adupa says. After the incident, the government became ruthless towards raiders, which saw many of them, Lokuro inclusive, give up their guns voluntarily.
Lokuro and his troops later joined Adupa to send a message of hope and peace; this gave birth to the Moroto Reformed Warriors Foundation which today comprises more than 200 girls and boys.
“Some of these are former warriors, well-wishers and the others, especially the girls, were orphaned during the raids,” says Adupa.
But even after giving out their guns, it has not been a bed of roses for Lokuro and other former fighters; some people segregate them because of their past.
“I understand where many of these people are coming from; for them, the crisis and suffering in Karamoja was our fault,” says Lodikany Loyonamoe, also a former fighter with Lokuro.
Culturally, a Karimojong man marries with cattle and historically, bride price has been very high. Young men had a powerful incentive to establish and build their own herds through raiding other pastoral groups.
From the 1970s, these warrior herdsmen, who had previously fought with spears, acquired modern fire arms, thanks to instability both in Uganda and southern Sudan, making the raids more violent.
Karamoja is enjoying relative peace and in September 2013, during the International Peace Week celebrations, the locals witnessed a signing of the groundbreaking peace accord between the Matheniko of Uganda and the Turkana of Kenya – the Lokiriama peace accord.
Besides preaching peace, Lokuro and fellow dancers also provide counselling services to fighters still in the bush; “We encourage them to give back the guns and embrace peace”.
“Many people in the region still have their guns and over 200 warriors are still hiding in the mountains,” Lokuro says.
With the help of international organizations such as USAID, UNDP, UNHCR, Unicef and International Rescue Committee (IRC), Karamoja is slowly picking up.
After the disarmament, the IRC tried to change the mindsets of Karimojong by bringing the warring communities together, while Unicef provided basic needs including medicine, food and tapped water, to lure locals into resettling in areas they had previously abandoned.
“Karimojong were originally farmers, thus we believe by availing safe water, former warriors can reignite their potential by trying out farming,” says Godfrey Haruma Ijumba, Unicef field officer, Moroto.
The day the dancers have been waiting for is finally here, Scott DeLisi, the American ambassador, is already here though because of the bad weather, the routine must wait. The dancers brave the rains, the first ones since we got here, and when the skies clear up, they immediately swing into action.
The first song talks about Aids and how the public must protect themselves from the pandemic. It is, however, the second song that Lokuro co-leads that carries the message home; “the gun destroyed Kaabong, Nakapiripirit….we’ve waited for a new day, a sunset. We say NO to guns, we won’t comb the shrubs for our dead fathers, mothers….” they sing.

Ssali's Bullion finally arrives

It gets very interesting catching over fifty journalists in one place, not to cover a story, but be the story themselves.
It was the same feeling at the Common Wealth Resort Munyonyo where scribe and film maker Henry Ssali was unveiling his second movie Bullion.
The event attracted many journalists that descended on the free cocktails, fish fingers, chicken….in simple words, they cleared the plates.
In 2007, Ssali made headlines when he released Kiwani: The movie. The picture didn’t only cause ripples in the industry but it took many by surprise considering its celebrated casting of Radio and Music divas Flavia Tumusiime and Juliana Kanyomozi.
In fact many thought he was going to retire his copy-editing skills in favour of the movie director’s seat.
To prove that he wasn’t a one hit wonder, in 2009, Ssali announced that he went on to audition and start the production of Bullion, which in his words would bring East Africa’s first Oscar…..ouuch, no longer possible!
The movie is set in 1997 and rotates around Collins (Allan Tumusiime) a bullion driver that’s trying to make ends meet as well as secure his daughter’s heart surgery.
The other sub-plot involves around a sleek talking accountant (Makutano Junction, Noose of gold and Demi gods actor Ainea Ojambo) having financial hardships because of a loan gone bad and his trusted partner in crime (Muwawu Gwayambadde). The two hatch a plan to rob the bank they work for, to complete their puzzle, they need help from Collins; The driver of the bullion van, and the security detail.
After the execution, things take a drastic twist when Collin is double-crossed and thrown into jail to serve a lengthy term.
The film has undergone a series of edits and re-edits to make it more appealing and Ssali says, very few Ugandan producers care to add glitz to their productions like he does and probably that’s the reason for the delayed release.
Despite receiving a ‘generous’ sponsorship package from tycoon Sudhir Ruparelia, Ssali and team were left battling debts due to the film’s huge production budget accruing from usage of cutting-edge technology and an all-star cast.
The film was written by Billy Ashaba, (State Research Bureau) and directed by celebrated actor Phillip Luswata.
The film also stars Gerald Rutaro, Veronica Tindi, Dickson Zizinga and his daughter Nankumba Daniela..
According to Ojambo, it was great working with a Ugandan production and hopes to do it again; “Ugandans have deep stories that we don’t have in Kenya.”
The lead actor Tumusiime wasn’t around for the premiere but his presence was felt especially with a video message where he sent his love out with an accent.
Bullion boosts of very good shots, timely transitions and superb acting from the then theatre factory, Michael Wawuyo and his son Wawuyo Jr, indeed worth the time.

Who is to blame for the Jamaican, Nigerian music invasion into Uganda?

When Bebe Cool started a facebook rant about DJs not playing enough local music, I wanted to give him a benefit of a doubt so I started by going through my favorite channels, later I picked the phone and called Touch Fm, it’s a Rock stations that plays more pop and rap music, I request for Radio and Weasel’s BET and Channel O nominated Can’t let you go, the presenter tells me she can’t play the song but when I switch to Ice Prince’s Gimme Some more which was also nominated for the same awards, am told they will get it for me.
So am left wondering, if these two songs competed at two grand levels, why is it that one can get air play and not the other, was Bebe probably right?
The debate can go on as to who should be blamed for the Jamaican invasion of the industry.
Since time immemorial, Ugandan DJs have never been so enthusiastic about playing Ugandan music. Today they will yell about how Ugandan music in the 90s was the real deal yet at that time, they indeed frustrated those artistes that many are living as paupers presently.
When Sanyu Fm was at the top of the game, they championed the oppression of local music with a very foreign music catalogue coupled with borrowed accents to play it.
Then to the late 90s, it took CBS and the likes of Simba to give the industry a lease of life. During the first six years of English stations like Capital and Sanyu FM, the industry didn’t pull any strides, Steve Jean, Ragga Dee, Ssematimba, Iryn Namubiru, Julianna, RS Elvis and the others were still underground acts – many left the country for Kyeyo.
Though after new entrants CBS and Simba, it took less than two years for local music to gain a footing with songs like Doole Y’omwana and later Maama Mia ruling the airwaves, then come Red Banton’s Nonya Money and later Bebe and Bobi followed with Fitina and Kagoma.
But then how did Jamaican and Nigerians invade us.
According to Sanyu FM’s Fat Boy when artistes start coping a certain culture, it makes them look like wannabes, in other words when the top artiste struggles to sound Nigerian in songs or shoot cliché videos like them, he gets promoters and DJs feeling that’s its Nigerian that people want and it’s what the DJ will play – real Nigerian.
“The culture that artistes push is what at times comes home to roost them, I will never go for Cindy when I can have N’yanda or Tanya Stevens, accommodate Navio when you can listen to Kanye, or better Bebe Cool when I can get the real Konsens.”
Much as many music fans especially those of his Sanyu Breakfast show seem to concur with him, others like Odonkara Godfrey totally disagree saying that charity has to begin at home since Nigerians also started by loving their own.
“Most of us run after foreign things, just because it’s Nigerian or Jamaican we assume its classy,” he says adding that he’s surprised by DJs trying to pass off Jamaican music as quality.
In Bebe Cool’s support, more local artistes like Prisca Mikami, Allan Tonix, Navio and Dr Hilderman too voiced their concerns about the DJs. some artistes even noted that DJs want to be paid if they are to play a Ugandan song, but its Bebe’s nemesis Chameleone that put it better.
He says that as local artistes, they are not asking for segregation of foreign music but a fair share of the industry they’ve stood by against all odds.
 “In such an exchange we also know that our products are not to what many can call "standards" but also it’s partially every Ugandans duty to contribute to our growth evenly,” Chameleone says adding that it’s about Uganda and what's ours; “if your father is broke, would you seek a richer dad? We stand together, Grow together if we are to fall together. Let’s be patriotic and grow our music.”
Broadcast consultant and proprietor of the new Luganda paper Ebbaluwa, Joel Isabirye, currently finishing a book about the local industry suggests that that media should give more allocation to local music than the international one on a ratio of 70:30 but also thinks musicians should be trained to cope with the demands of the public.
“We need to protect our music industry in the interest of national development, tomorrow it will be DJ Beekay’s son trying to break through a Naija infested local industry,” he notes.
On one of her shows, Touch FM presenter  Maggie, says that the station indeed plays local music but the quality of that song matters, she picks out Maurice Kirya, Maddox, Esther from TPF and ‘some songs’ by Lillian – none of these artistes has more than four albums!
“It doesn’t have to be too local,” she says.
On normal days its easy to catch the station play songs by Selif Keita or Bella Kouyate, but these are local traditional music artistes from Mali!!!
One urdent fan of the station Winnie Nakate, calls it sheer hypocrisy – “if touch can afford to play poor quality Nigerian songs like Yori Yori, Gobe and Azonto, then why set high standards for Ugandan artistes?”
The question remains to the fans, who’s responsible for the absence of local music on the airwaves?

Finally a film to save Ugandan marriages

2013 was a great year for film but only after three months, this year is promising to raise the bar even higher; form Dilman Dila’s AMVCA nominated Felista’s Fable to Robin Kisti’s produced Basket 53, 2014 is indeed on a faster rollercoaster.
Last week, another mileage was reached when a fast rising movie director Hussein Omar premiered a ground breaking romantic drama that educates lovers on how to achieve an everlasting relationship.
The film aptly titled The Counselor premiered at National Theatre to a respectable number of audiences even when the event had only relied on social media for promotional purposes.
The red carpet launch kicked off with a cocktail where free drinks and snacks were served. The host for the night also a film maker and director of the famous human trafficking thriller The Route, Jayant Maru was very engaging; asking the cast to act out some scenes from the movie before it could start.
Then saxophonist Michael Kitanda’s rendition of Kenny G’s Going home – mind blowing and fit for the elegance that premieres are known for.
At about 7:25, The Counselor  was unleashed and unlike many local movies were introductory credits take almost five of your precious minutes, this one is rather quick. The film introduces us to Bob (Nicholas Kayiwa)a trained counselor that is more interested in business, when he loses his job, his grounded as he changes roles to becoming a stay home husband waiting on his wife Suzan (Miriam Kubita)’s mercy.
But she’s never easy, she’s always reminding him that he has to find a job; in fact he ends up taking up a counselor job after Suzan went around telling her and his friends about his situation.
Fighting to impress, Bob gives all to the job, working late, meeting clients in rather unconventional places which include romantic dates late in the evening with one of them, this in turn pits his own 
The more Bob struggles to fix other marriages is the more he’s denting his, Suzan suspects he may be seeing a client, Rose (Esther Bwanika), the allegation is fueled by her husband (Christopher Lwandaga) who sees them having a drink at the restaurant.
At the peak of everything, Bob loses this job and best friend over a number of allegations and has to turn to his wife to help him get it back.
The movie is so relevant to the current ugandan situation where marriages have become try outs, the only problem is that the characters over use the services of couselors which is not that realistic in our society – the example of the husband who has issues of his wife gaining some extra pounds! A typical Ugandan man just cheats.
The acting was prolific considering the fact that some of the cast members like Jolly Kisakye were first timers, nevertheless, others like Kubita and one Cate Ayella had some memorable time in the movie.
The biggest problem Omar must have faced may have been a tight budget that didn’t give him a chance to exploit some techniques, its said that some shoots had to be foregone since they would have been too expensive, this came out to haunt the final product especially when they kept showing Bob’s home and the office whenever there was a transition, then none of the supporting characters had a back story besides the lead.
But all in all, The Couselor is a good movie and probably a must watch for those in commited relationships.

Zinda wonderfully plays to an empty house

Classical music isn’t and has never been one of the mainstream genres in the Ugandan industry.
Thus, when young visionary Emmanuel Zinda came up with an idea of holding a concert of such music, we couldn’t help but sigh in disbelief.
He had an intriguing list that featured songs by great composers like Carl Gustav Boberg, George Beverly Shea and Cliff Barrows but still, that was still too much for a Ugandan audience that can barely tell between a good and bad song.
At 7:20pm, National theatre auditorium still virtually empty - Looking lean in a red and white checked shirt, black jacket, slacks and shoes, Emmanuel Zinda looks casual yet stylish for his first ever concert. He kicks off with an original composition that was rather difficult for some of us attending Classical music concerts for the first time, it got a bit too artistry in some places but was still soothing to the ears.
That was followed by How great thou art, probably one of the most popular hymn songs ever. First composed in Swedish by Boberg in 1859, it was translated to English by a British missionary Stuart K. Hine, though still maintains the Swedish folk feel to it. The song has since been covered by Yolanda Adams, Carrie Underwood and Cece Winans among others, so here was Zinda giving it his own touch with a violin, of course with the help of a wonderful band and vocalists.
It felt like the young man had carried the church to the auditorium.
Then he took us through more inspirational songs like Secret Garden’s original, You raise me up, Maywood’s 1980 hit Mother how are you today but it was  the largely vocal song Malaika, that carried the day, its believed to be the most famous Swahilli song and Zinda might have known the weight of performing it.
The violinist was drawn to the stage experimenting with other instrumentalists to make it outstanding, with atmospheric sounds and electroacoustic techniques, the 15-minute score which derives its name from angels begins with subdued string violin solo that seems to invite the guitarist.
When the lead vocalists join in, the mood becomes arousing and pensive, this performance was meant with ululations from the crowd and a demand for its encore later.
On his original compositions like Osanidde, it was good seeing Zinda give the genre an African touch with that xylophone sound and drums.
Considering the fact that many prefer looking at concerts in form of crowds that artistry, Zinda’s inauguration was a huge failure, probably the biggest flop we may see this year, on the record, less than 25 people turned up and for some reason were scattered all over the auditorium thus making it look empty.
It was in fact surprising seeing Zinda pull off an energetic performance in front of mainly empty seats.

Why all these absentee husbands?

When Sylvia dated Gerald, he seemed to tick all the boxes. He was the kind of man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
In fact, with ‘responsible’ men not to be taken for granted these days, Sylvia thought: ‘why not move in, have the full package, and get started with the task of building a family?’
Soon, she was going by the name of Mrs Lutaaya* – the woman of the house.  In the novels and movies, they would live happily ever after.
But in the Lutaayas’ real life, the ‘honeymoon’ did not last very long. And the issue was not the usual suspects; it was not another woman.  The problem was the men in Gerald’s life. It was, Sylvia recalls, as if he had married her to keep his house for him.
 “I am not complaining about their nights out as buddies. I know it’s crucial that men have time to go out without their wives, and I have no problem with that. But does he have to stay out until the next morning?”
At the time, Gerald would party with his friends on Fridays, drink with them on Saturdays and watch football on Sundays. And even when the football leagues were in recess, he always found a reason to be away from home and from his wife.
“He attended all his friends’ weddings, meetings, introductions and graduation parties,” Sylvia says.
At first, she tried a stoic approach, persuading herself that her fears were exaggerated; that her friend of a husband would reform. She was wrong.
Yet she was – and is – not alone. She is just one of many women struggling to understand their men’s hankering for ‘guys’ nights out’ at the expense of family time. For such women, one recurrent question is: Why do men do that? 

FEEL YOUNGER
According family expert Krishann Briscoe, women are usually happy for their men catching up with buddies for some guy-time. But women also get utterly jealous because they wish their husbands were instead more eager about spending time with the family.
Writing on www.babble.com, Briscoe notes that men stay away with friends because it’s an experience that makes them feel men again, away from the responsibilities of being a husband, or some conservative role model to the children.
“They want to hang out minus the ‘filters.’ They don’t want to do anything to compromise their marriages but they do want to be able to just hang out for a little while and not have to worry about their spouse or children,” Briscoe says.
Gerald Lutaaya agrees that there were times he wanted to just be himself without having to act responsible. He felt the need to have time without his highly demanding wife.
“Staying out helps you break free, act more ‘stupidly’ and talk about anything with the guys,” he says, adding that being out with friends usually made him feel younger and even escape the “cruel fact” that he has a child and a wife to fend for.

CANDY STORE
Samuel Kabanda, 34, a doctor running a clinic in Kampala, seems to share Gerald’s sentiments. He says the day men become fathers, their right to enjoying a movie, hanging out or being ‘cool’ is lost to the attention they give the children and their mothers.
“It’s very hard for a wife to let you drink in the house because it’s allegedly bad example. Then you can’t watch a music video because its vulgar,” Kabanda says, explaining that after putting up with that for weeks, men usually seek solace in the company of buddies who must also be living the same life elsewhere.
 “You know you won’t be free when you take your wife along to chill,” he adds.
“Being single is like living in a candy store. You pick any candy you want, well knowing they are not good for your teeth,” says Gerald, admitting that most of the times men who party till the wee hours of the morning are not ready for marriage.
Gerald however notes that sometimes men decide to stay away from home because they are tired of their wives, can’t divorce them and would want to put on a show for the sake of the children. He reminisces that in his situation, it was a mixture of fortunes that included Sylvia’s nagging tendencies and demands.

INSECURITIES
“She would assume that every time, I stayed at work late I was being unfaithful,” he says, adding that life at home became unbearable and since he hated fighting before their son, he decided to extend his working hours.
“I would work till 9pm, catch up with friends after that, and only came home to sleep.”
This was the time he started jumping on each and every outing opportunity – just to stay away from home.
Others have stayed away from home, not because of something their wives have directly done but something maybe worse. Sylvia reminisces the time she overheard a man complain about his wife ferrying all her relatives to their marital home – they were not just many, but untidy too.
“He was resigned about going back to his house thus opted to work overtime,” she says.
Gerald says that when he stayed away from home, he was satisfied that he got his own time without the stress from the wife and child, but slowly, his house was falling apart. His wife was contemplating on leaving, while his son was at times having health issues. But since he was barely home, he knew almost nothing of this. Yet, that wasn’t the worst – his son was also afraid of him.
“We missed a lot of moments and we somehow grew apart. He couldn’t even look me in the eye, which hurt me indeed,” he says.
For Kabanda, it took a security threat to bring him back to his senses. While partying out with his buddies, his wife’s life was threatened by robbers who tried to force their way into the house, well knowing she was practically home alone. It took a male neighbour’s intervention to rescue her.
“I still find it hard to forgive myself for that night,” he says.

BOYS MUST BE BOYS
Others have had to endure even worse pains. In one of the hilarious headlines on the popular TV news slot, Agataliiko Nfuufu, a wife was accused by her husband for allegedly cheating on him. Her apparent reason was that he was barely home for his marital duties.
However, even when women like Sylvia detest men staying out late, others like Helena Lwandago, a freelance model and usher, believe sometimes boys need the time to be boys and not the wife’s husband. She argues that women tend to spend a lot of time trying to change the man and it mostly backfires by him avoiding her.
“Most of the times we (women) forget that he had a life before us, thus we try to change him overnight into what we want,” she says.
Lwandago’s views are shared by English psychologist, Prof Robin Dunbar, whose 2012 study discovered that men need to go out with other male friends at least twice a week. The study shows that men must meet with at least four friends in order to reap the benefits of male friendship.
“Those benefits, in addition to general health, include faster recovery in times when faced with illness,” he says in the study.
Sylvia says it took a lot of understanding and self-checking to deal with the problem. But it’s not an initiative she came up with – it was a brilliant plan by her pastor.
He made her look at the problem more objectively rather than always pushing the blame onto her husband. That’s when she realized she had been hard on him.
“We then made a decision to face and overcome the problem together. I personally had to change the way I was treating him.” 
Sylvia believes that women on average get ready for marriage by 25, yet their male counterparts may not even be ready at 30. Yet, ready or not, the two find themselves married, and must learn to put up with each other.