#AnitaEverything 10: Blame it on the Intern

There was a new face at Anita’s Airtime Emporium. I didn’t know what an emporium was, but I had long gotten used to the fact that Anita, even though she can’t pronounce them all, had more words than I did. My main concern was the new girl, who she was, why, and what.

Secondary concerns included why her weave looked like a dried out maize plantation, why her lipstick had been applied with a thumb and why her eyebrows were upside down and in two pairs. I immediately asked the first question. I am a well trained journalist. We ask questions.

Here is how the interview went.

1.Who is that?

A (For answer, but if you like, can also stand for Anita): That’s Proscorivia my intern.

Q: Proscolivia? Really?

A: Some people, when they come from the village, feel they need to have English names now that they are in Kampala. But they don’t really know how to do it so they end up with gibberish like Proscorivia. Just ret it go.

Q: So you got an intern? Eh. Business is growing.

A: Yeah. Appalently people suddenly have a great need for more data. Demand is skylocketing. I can’t handle it arone.

Q: There is this new app people in the hood began downloading that is chewing up their data.

A: Prosco, come here. This is Anko Bazanye. Treat him very well. He is my most important customer.

P: (For whatshername with the makeup that looks like it was done by that guy who paints nursery school walls) But madam, that’s what you said about the last customer.

A: (With eye roll). Rack of understanding the dericate nature of letail business is why you are an unpaid intern, Prosco. Now go to the toilet and revise.

So Anko, have you got my new app?

Q: It’s you who made the app?

A: Dude, I didn’t go to Makerere so dat means I am able to self-equip with skills that are marketable in the new economy instead of waiting for someone to emproy me. Rike most interrigent dropouts, I know how to code.

Q: Are you pulling a Kanye West?

A: I don’t know who Kanye West is. If you are asking whezer I am downpraying the varue of formal education, I am not. Proscolivia can’t even count or read.

We have to mark the airtime cards by colour code.

Q: What is the app about? I haven’t downloaded it because since I got dumped last week I spend all my airtime listening to poems on YouTube about loneliness and heartbreak and also googling ways to numb the pain in my heart. Apparently heroin is highly recommended but I don’t think it is allowed in Uganda and I don’t want to be arrested by Affande Mande. He is the only cop I know who administers mob justice. By himself moreover.

A: Well, it’s called BlessR. What I did is I drew up an arogolizimi…

Q: Algorit… Sikunyega. I can’t say that word either.

A: Anyway a system that takes into consideration your strengths and weaknesses and pairs you with the most appropriate blessee for your level.

Q: People like you are bad for this country.

A: You say dat but you want to try the app now, don’t you? Don’t you? It’s da temptation of da chance to have sex without the bother of emotional commitment or any of the nasty mess associated with rove. As a bresser you don’t even need to cut your toenails.

Q: I don’t enjoy cutting my claws so let’s see.

A: (opening the app on her S8 edge and tapping it) Now, at your income, which I can carchurate from your car, phone and residence…hmm… you yourself live the rife of a well-bressed chick. You need to increase your income by forty five percent to afford to bress a house girl.

Q: Anita, has this app actually connected anyone to a blessing?

A: No. Evelyone gets the same lesult. It tells dem to get 45% higher income.

Q: So why did you make it?

A: It chews mooooob data! My sales of airtime are up 200%! I am going to end up licher than my own bresser!

A: It chews mooooob data! My sales of airtime are up 200%! I am going to end up licher than my own bresser!

Again, illustrator is still AWOL. So we don’t even have a picture of Proscolivia yet you really need to see it to believe it. Let me look for the artist. To be continued illustrated.

Click here for #AnitaEverything 9

#AnitaEverything 9: Anita Everything Presents the Papalatte

 

Since the last time we saw Anita Everything, the local airtime vendor, a few things have changed. You know when they tell you to empower and educate the girl child, you make the fatal mistake of assuming that this is done so she can be a more efficient secretary.

Well, the joke’s on you, backward societal values entrenching oppression, because when Anita got empowered with the tool of basic literacy she went to the internet, read Art Of War, and came back with so much ruthless business kung fu that by the time she was done, all the other airtime stalls were out of business. It was only her. She was The One. Like Jet Li, if you are old enough to remember good movies.

So be careful who gets empowered, NRM. Betty Nambooze won’t even leave your hat alone.

Now, among the things Anita has been doing to increase her power is Value Addition. Many airtime sellers attempt this, but to them value addition means scratching it for you. First of all, Anita doesn’t know how to say “scratch”. She is from Ggwa village which English didn’t fully colonise, so she says “Squanch it”.

She has this other type of manicure called French Tips, however, and it is too fly to be ruined. She will tell you to squanch your own cards and stop being a baby.

Her: “Hello, Anko. I hope you are having a nice day. What can I do for you?”

(Value addition: courtesy)

Customer: “Hello Anita. I would like two k airtime for the day, because when you use safeboda you have to call call them to repeat what you just told them in the app. Two k please.”

Her: “Let me get that for you. By the way, may I say you are rooking exceptionarry handsome today. You keep it up and I will have to leport you to Annet Kezaabu.”

(Value addition: flirtation which makes you get a small frisson of dopamine. I know the moment I leave there and pass our boda stage I will be brought crashing down to earth. Our boda stage, by the way, is just like yours, in that the staff there are vulgar, crass and disgusting. They catcall members of the opposite sex as they walk by. But unlike yours, our boda stage is manned by Boda Belinda, Boda Bridget, Rhoda Boda, Bajaj Minaj and Siraj. Siraj is the one who transports charcoal and bunches of matooke. He is not allowed to speak.)

Three people walked by them today before me.

One was Marcus, my lightskinned neighbour.

Bodas: “Size yange, bulown, jangu, nkutekemu kas.”

No, they don’t mean cash, they mean kasese. That’s what they use to fuel their bikes and they have plenty.

Then Big Ssu, my landlord walked by:

Bodas: “Size yange, slay king! Jangu tukube selfie.”

Then I walked by:

Bodas: Eladde nyo, Mwami Bazanye. Wasuze otya nno, ssebo?

Me: Why is it that when it comes to me you suddenly remember your manners and stop catcalling, eh?

Boda Bridget: Cos you’re old, Baz. Ain’t nobody tryna smash that.

Boda Belinda: Baz, you’re so old, I bet you were not even born. You just evolved from zinj anthropus.

Rhoda Boda: You also walk weird. As if semi-sideways. I wouldn’t trust a bed with you in it.

Bajaj Minaj: You want a ride? On the bike, I mean. Don’t get any ideas.

So guys, don’t think you can understand what street harassment is like for women. There is no equivalency. Don’t do that “if it was me I would be flattered” shit. Of course you would, trash.

Anyway.

Me: “Anita, I need two k airtime.”

Anita: “Here you go. As you can see from my gorgeous hands, they are gorgeous, so I will not be squanching your card for you. However, as you squanch and road for yourself rike a grown up, could I interest you in a beverage? We have introduced an extensive new menu.”

And that is how I ended up like this, strung out junkie, a helpless fiend. An addict. Caffeine is already addictive but delicious caffeine is something else.

You know how around October, Americans in their Starbucks begin drinking something called pumpkin spiced latte? I am sure you have heard it mentioned in the series you watch on your netflix at night with your midnight bundle.

Well, Anita did and she decided to try it here. Only she could not find pumpkins in Bulabira. There were some pawpaws left unattended to in the local churchyard and we all know that you can eat from any tree except the tree of knowledge, which is not a pawpaw tree, so she climbed up, helped herself and created the papali latte.

Also called the Papalatte.

Baz: “Anita, my mouth feels so good. I bet this is what The Weeknd feels like when he is singing! Except for the direction of goodness being opposite.”

Anita: “Would you rike another?”

Ask a dumb question.

Baz: “Anita, the second one has mated with the one I had earlier and they have reproduced, bringing forth twins, one being joy and the other, bliss.”

Anita: “Would you rike another one?”

Would Museveni like another term?

Baz: “Anita, what have you done to me? I am now a slave.”

Anita: “Muahahahah!”

And that is how Anita Airtime Cafe began to grow. Because customers go to buy two k airtime and leave like fifty-seven thousand shillings behind.

Click here for #AnitaEverything 8

 

Naguru Remand Home | Reading to Rebuild

On 24th June, this year we visited the Naguru Remand Home for juveniles. In a bid to spread the love of reading (through our publications, book clubs and libraries), we went to the Remand Home to see what contribution we could make to the children in their custody. 

The formal definition of a remand home is a common law institution to which juvenile offenders may be committed by the court for temporary detention. If a child offender is not released on bail, the remand home takes them in for safe custody, good care and to ensure that the child is taken to court when required. 

In Uganda, there are five functional homes in Rukunkuru, Mbale, Gulu, Fort Portal and Naguru. There are two categories of children in Naguru Remand Home: children in conflict with the law and children in need of care and protection. On average, the home receives about 200 children per month. While the children are meant to be there for a short time, they sometimes stay for as long as two years awaiting production in court. Due to lack of representation and alternative sentencing for minor offences, children end up staying much longer than they should. 

After meeting with the people that run the home, led by the bubbly Miss Mary Kyomugisha, we realised that a library was not the best option for the Home as the majority of the children do not know how to read or write. We set out to find what could help them learn how to read as well as stimulate their brains even while they are at the remand home. Our research revealed that though majority had not been to school (most of whom are street children), there were some that dropped out of primary school and secondary school. We found a teacher that can teach basic Maths and English and got textbooks and storybooks for those that have had some education on different levels. The teacher has already started conducting lessons three times a week. 

One of the things we love spreading, besides the joy of reading, is fun. We worked with Zzimba Games to customise games and puzzles for the children. As they have fun playing the games, we hope that they will be able to learn basic numeracy, strategic thinking and the important lesson of consequences. 

Ludo, Snakes & Ladders and puzzles, customised by Sooo Many Stories and made by Zzimba Games for The Naguru Remand Home.

On a Friday afternoon, together with a few of our volunteers and the entire SmsUg team we went with stationary, games and expectant, nervous hearts in tow. We were accompanied by a psychologist who has been visiting and working with the children for about two years now. She eased our anxiety slightly by giving us a little context on the emotional state of a lot of the children. She reminded us that they are children first and foremost and that none of them are inherently bad, it’s just the blessing of privilege that passed them by. She encouraged us to be ourselves and approach them as friends, as opposed to donors or teachers.

As we waited for the rest of the team and for the children to finish their lunch, we talked a little with Ms Kyomugisha, the in-charge. Her relationship with each of the children is heartwarming. They fondly address her as Mama and are all incredibly comfortable with her and see her more as a friend than as a figure of authority. For many of the children, for whom figures of authority are to be feared, this is a beautiful thing. They all have a great rapport and they crack jokes and spend time just chatting on a little piece of compound known as ‘Mama’s Beach’.

The SmsUg team with , the patron of the Remand Home (in yellow) and  the psychologist that has been working with the children (in brown).

Once the children were through with lunch, they gathered in what seemed to be their general assembly area. Ms Kyomugisha introduced us and Nyana Kakoma, founder of Sooo Many Stories, proceeded to explain our visit and why we believed this could benefit them.

“For many of the children at the Home, going back to school is not an option and so we had to show them why reading would be beneficial to them. We often tell the children we usually interact with to read and tap into their imagination but we couldn’t do the same with the children we met that day. Dreaming is a luxury they can’t afford at the moment and so we had to look at how learning how to read and count would practically benefit them.” says Nyana Kakoma. “If he gets out and becomes a Boda Boda rider, how does reading and counting benefit him? How does it benefit her as a nanny?”

After our pitch,  we gave the children an opportunity to ask questions. We were shown in true form, some of the children we are working with; bright and confident kids with aspirations. One of them asked how he would benefit if all he wanted to do was learn how to cook. We managed to convince him that English and Maths are necessary for whatever profession. In his, for example, it would be hard to measure or read recipes without knowing how to read or count.

Many asked what would happen after to them left the remand home. One child was skeptical about falling in love with reading and then leaving and not being able to continue with this new-found love. Would he go back to herding cattle as was expected of him? Another went as far as to ask, was the solution to continuing this education coming back to the remand home? These are the questions we were left to ponder on.

We went on to play board games with the children and interacted with them. The puzzles seemed to excite a lot of the younger children while Ludo kept the older ones engaged. It was wonderful seeing how excited they got at a finished puzzle or how gleeful going up a ladder made them. 

We left all thoroughly impressed by the children and warmed at Ms Kyomugisha’s big heart. We also left wondering how we could further assist these children and foster rehabilitation and continuity of childhood living. 

We realised, we cannot do it alone. We know we need help and what better people to ask than our own tribe.

One of the most immediate ways we need help is teachers. Because of the different levels the children are at and the large number, just one teacher will not do. We hope to have constant evaluation of the pupils so that at the time of their departure they have a progress report that they can take to nearby schools and continue from where they have been able to reach. 

If you are a teacher or a tutor and would be able to volunteer your time a few times a week to teach these children, we would greatly appreciate it.

We would also like to provide the home with more games and puzzles so that as many children as possible can participate. Having games and other sources of fun definitely helps to bring light to an otherwise dark situation.

Are you able to help in any of the ways above? Get in touch with us on email at kaboozi@somanystories.ug or call us on 0705711442 (whatsapp) or 0788310999 and let’s use books and reading to rebuild our children. 

 

 

#AnitaEverything 8: The Aftermath | Ernest Bazanye

 

Previously on Anita Everything.

Anita kicked my ex out in my house. Well she wasn’t my ex until after the kicks but there was leg violence instigated by Anita and the outcome was, naturally, a dumping, which was to be mine.

So I was not too happy to see Anita this morning. Problem is she has taken monopoly over the airtime sales in the hood so there was no where else to go to load up.

Me: Anita give me one K airtime.

Her: Anko nawe, are you annoyed at me? Is dat why you are buying half da usual amount? Are you passive agglessing me?

Me: Maybe it’s because now that I am single, thanks to you, I only need half as much airtime.

Her: I already aporogised and aporogised to you. I exprained, she started it. And us from my virrage of Ggwa we are just too gangsta by instinct. Even rucky I didn’t have my gun.

Me: I asked for One k airtime please. Not the sociopolitical makeup of Ggwa. We are no longer friends. Don’t even make conversation with me. I am even going to end this post here and go back home to weep into my pillow while blasting Adele 25. But the dancehall remixes because otherwise I can’t stand that shit. Whiney wailey shit. Might as well have given the Grammy to a cat recorded mid-slaughter.

Her: But you are observant, Anko. Aderr sounds just rike the suspicious sounds you hear coming from that alley when the muchomo guy, Chomo Kiynatta, has failed to raise money to buy goat meat but he needs to be on jobbo.

Me: One K airtime. Less blah blah.

Her: Don’t srow me out Anko Baz. Okay to make ammends. I give you bonus airtime and you can downroad tinder.

Me: Tinder? How is tinder going to help me? Tinder is an app for people who are already in relationships but are looking to find ways of sneaking around and getting doggy in the alleys behind bars on Acacia avenue. It’s not for single people.

Her: Okay. Why don’t you make a whatsapp video and send to abanoonya?

Me, Bazanye of Sunday Vision Fame: Anita, I used to work at Vision Group. If I want abanoonya, I just go to the Bukedde TV studio in person and login to a computer.

Her: Is dat where you found dat rachet cow whose ass I whupped? She seemed as if as if one of the abanoonya video appricants who was deemed unfit for broadcast. Anko, were you dating an abanoonya reject?

Me, sighing: To be honest, I don’t know how we got together. One minute I’m taking a shot of Konyagi mixed with tequila and four things in four different satchets and next thing I know I wake up in a bed I don’t understand.

Her: Dilink lesponsibry, man.

Me: To be honest you did me a favour. That woman used to force me to watch Real Housewives of Atlanta. A whole me? A sophisticated and distinguished intellectual like me? I’m supposed to be watching Rick and Morty!

Her: Speaking of which, Anko, you are seriously need to consider. You are too old to be dating. I am sure your cran members have told you dis.

Me: Yes. They have. Fortunately, I’m too old to have to sit back and take it so I tell them to shove that shit back up the bull they got it from and I go suck up more malwa. Mbu asking me why I am not married. If they are elders, why are they asking childish questions? If you see a single 40 year old man I’m Kampala the reason is one. Baggage.

Her: You get me long. That’s not what I was suggesting. What I meant was, Anko, at your age, alen’t you ready to be a bresser?

Me: I can’t be a blesser. As a feminist I am opposed to the commodification of women, which is what a blesser situation is… It’s exploitation of girls!

Her: Hah! Me and Big Ssu who is exproiting who? He even had to go to work by Pioneer to go to town because I was using his Plado to drive here. It was hot and I didn’t have my sungrasses.

I don’t have a cliffhanger this time. I did not drink enough coffee before I began writing.

Click here for #AnitaEverything 7

#AnitaEverything 7: Violence is the Answer | Ernest Bazanye

Previously on Anita Everything: Anita decided to hook up with Big Ssu from flat number four on my block. Because Big Ssu doesn’t care about dental health he bought condoms but not toothpaste, which lead to Anita knocking on my door in the morning looking for colgate. Problem is that she was not just in the morning, she was also in just a towel. And now she is also in my bathroom brushing in my sink.

And that is when my special lady friend shows up. Let me introduce Nakiwanuka who passed through Compton once while she was studying in California and is now known as Naquanusha.

Naquanusha: (To the betowelled woman she can see in my bathroom) : Aaaan who the helleryou?

Anita: Mwashmushusmanta (Which is the best she can say with her mouth full of toothpaste foam).

Naqua: Whatttt, are you doon here in mah man’s house?

Anita (gets some water, rinses spits, and then answers): Well, I was blushing my teeth at first, but that was then. Now I’m just terring people what I am doing. Any more questions, or can I finish cleaning my mouth? The plimora still hasn’t been blushed.

Naqua: You are naat gon be up in mah man’s house, all up hurr witcho lil towel and stuff talmbout you blushing wharrever like you don’t thank I’ma do somemn! Heiffer You besta clean them teeth reeal quick before I knack em right outcho mouth!

Me: Wait. Naki, wait. It’s not what it looks like.

Naqua: Shush you mouth Baz. After this, the next asswhuppin is yours.

Me: That would be domestic violence. It’s against the law.

Naqua: The only law I know is when I SAID SHUSH!

Anita: Mwaushsususushhusuh. (I think she is trying to explain that she just came to brush her teeth but, like the FDC and other opposition figureheads, there are strategic and operational obstacles to getting the message through to the people effectively.)

Naqua: Hol my hanbag and my earrings, Baz.

Me (I am not going to hold her earrings or her bag. Because I know what happens once they have been transferred. I have seen four bar fights involving this woman and I know what damage happens. Her hands are like Besigye. As in it doesn’t matter who is right and who is wrong, when they are free, bodily harm and property damage are ensured.)

Naqua: Bway, I said hol. Ma. Earrrings! You def?

Me: Naki, you are getting the wrong idea.

Naqua: You wanna hold this bag or you wanna swallow it?

Me: It’s not what it looks like. Anita is the airtime chick.

Naqua: Look like y’all been havin some kind of time up in air with this ratty ass rural underdeveloped hair weave lookin’ like endagala and bad breaf like you been eatin’ mayuni n’ebijanjaalo nga mulimu weevils all your life, and that donkey ridin’ ass and stankin’ headlice and bedbugs in your underarms no good man-stealing fishmouth havin’ hoe…

Anita: Musushsusuus?

Oh oh. I am used to taking extra effort to interpret what Anita says at any given time so I could guess what she had just said amounted to something like, “Oh no. You did not just call me …. any of those things.”

Usually there is a weigh in, and the ref rings a bell but this time Naquanusha just swung. I was under the sofa faster than a cockroach. And all I could hear was biff baff pow. A trap beat made out of kicks and punches. That is how I was able to capture Anita’s lightning martial arts Bruce Lee flying dragon kick.

Click here for #AnitaEverything 6

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#AnitaEverything 6: Every Morning is a New | Ernest Bazanye

One thing you don’t like to see first thing when you get out of the house in the morning is your landlord. Why? It just doesn’t sit well with me, the idea of the landlord living in the same block of flats. It’s like injustice. How come he doesn’t have to pay rent and all the rest of us do?

But my landlord is not the usual type. He’s a jovial middle aged man deep in the throes of a midlife crisis. He wears Yankee fitted caps with his agbada, blasts Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer music out of his black Prado and sleeps around, as the saying goes, “with these bugirls you see.”

Seeing Big Ssu in the flats is not an unusual thing since Frejrick left.

That’s what he said when we asked him his name so that’s him: Frejrick.

Big Ssu is in the real estate industry of this city so he knows full well that Kampala is not buildings. When Frejrick fell two months behind in rent, Big Ssu said nothing. When Frejrick fell four months behind in rent, Big Ssu said nothing.

Not a word did he say until the sixth month when he showed up with a pair of dogs and two heavy-set drug addicts and informed Frejrick that everything in the flat was now property of Ssuna Investments limited in lieu of rent arrears.

So now he has a hoe pad in our block. It’s where he brings his bugirls.

That part we are used to. We don’t like it, but we are used to it.

The other part is what surprised me– seeing my airtime vendor come out of Number 4 at nine am.

And now the dialogue portion of this post begins. Zig.

Anita: Anko Baz. First open.

Me: (Having opened) Anita, the airtime chick? Why are you here? Why are you here now? Last but not least, why are you here now dressed in nothing but a towel?

Anita: I have been having seksho intercourse in one of these frats. Unfortunately, even though the patina lemembered to buy condoms, he did not buy l toospaste. So hook a sister up.

Me: Anita, when you first sent me into the uncle-zone, I went peacefully and without causing a scene. But you can’t stand here in a towel like that and expect me to accept you as a sister.

Anita: Okay, hook a neighbour’s hookup up.

Me: (Pointing way to bathroom) You know what’s funny? This is one of those typical Kampala flats where neighbours don’t socialize. I don’t know them, they don’t know me. In fact the only person I know is Big Ssu, when he brings his bustrays to number 4.

Anita: Yeah. Dat’s da one. I knocked him out. My hips don’t rie. It’s the truth da whole truth and what daf frying ff… what is this?

For at this point, Anita has entered the bathroom, and, in looking for the toothpaste, has opened my bathroom drawer and is going through my stuff.

Me: I swear I can explain.

Anita: A whole man, a highry lespected pirra of society rike you? How can you? You are emballassment to yourself and to da entire communntie!

Me: It’s not what it looks like.

Anita: How can you? Me I can’t. I just can’t. How can you?

Me: I woke up one day and was out of decent rollon. The nearest shop didn’t have any other kind, so what could I do? I had to buy that cheap oily crap rollon. Did you want me to move around smelling?

Anita: I would lather smell of kavubuka than smell of lousy deodolant. And orso you wouldn’t even have that probrem.

Me: Are you saying I naturally smell nice?

Anita: I am saying, Anko, you are old. You can’t smell of kavubuka. You will have kazeeyi.

Now, at this point you have me standing there. I’m my boxers. Because it’s my home and I wear what I want and all I ever really want to wear is my boxers. Kiliza oba gaana, hate or relate.

Then you have Anita, wrapped in just a towel, brushing her teeth in my bathroom.

What do you expect happens next?

Let me give you a few seconds to expect the wrong thing.

No, what happens is the girlfriend shows up.

From the door: Helooooooo!

Okay. Let me come and we continue.

Click here for #AnitaEverything 5

Click here for #AnitaEverything 7

Women in Poetry | Beverley Nambozo

Beverley Nambozo is one of Uganda’s poetry pioneers. She is the founder of the Babishai Niwe (BN) Poetry Foundation, formerly the Beverley Nambozo Poetry Award for Ugandan Women which began in 2008. Nambozo is also an accomplished writer with short stories, poetry and articles featured in Drumvoices Review, Femrite, Kwani?, Enkare Review, Copperfield Review, among others and a renowned performer and public speaker. She currently teaches at a Kampala based international school with a Cambridge based curriculum, heading the Model United Nations programme. This year the Babishai Niwe Poetry Foundation celebrated 10 years of existence. We sat down to discuss Beverley’s journey, the African Poetry Story and Babishai Niwe’s place in it. 

What drew you to poetry initially?
I enjoy creation. I enjoy sound and interplay, the logic and the twists and turns in words. I’ve enjoyed that from when I was a child. I enjoyed riddles and filling in gaps to make complete English sentences. I enjoyed tenses and stories and reading. Poetry for me was the epitome and magic of all of that; what sound and rhythm and words could do.

Poetry also proved to be a very effective way to send a message! One of my classmates in Gayaza high school actually cried because I was writing about her. I called her out, saying she was snobbish and envious and couldn’t take competition, and she cried! I acted like I didn’t know what was going on, but in my head I said, ‘Yes! One round to Bev.’

I’m also not afraid of being alone to create and poetry for me inspires that sense of solitude and creation.

Who would you say are your biggest literary influences?
This question is a hard one, Esther! I hope there’s another interview so I can mention anyone I forget. It changes depending on the landscape I’m in. But I would have to say  the writers I’m reading. There’s an anthology called Bittersweet: Contemporary Black Women’s Poetry; Jackie Kay, Alice Walker, Gwendolyn Brooks, Maya Angelou, the works. I bought it 12 years ago and I was recently drawn to it again. Probably because it’s a kind of feminism journey I’m taking again or reclaiming for myself. So I suppose right now I’m in that space where I’m ingesting it again.

But there are also many Ugandan poets that inspire me! Don’t ask me to name, because I know I will probably miss one , but it goes without saying that Ugandan female poets are on fire. They are exploding. They are such great tourists of verse and are claiming spaces that they never were and saying important things through their performance, their work and their publishing. I celebrate that.

Poetry, especially when it comes to publishing, marketing and selling, is thought to be one of the most difficult areas of literature. Why do you think that is?
It’s because of what you’ve just said, because it was a more difficult space, a hardly publicised or recognised form of literature, especially for women. That’s where Babishai Niwe started and then grew into this African space for poetry, alongside other wonderful spaces for poetry in Uganda. National Theater for example has a poetry performance almost all the time. Of course there are still challenges, we’re always having conversation about them. 

Why do we continue doing it? Because it’s a drug. It’s a drug and we’re overdosed. You know, withdrawal symptoms are harder to deal with than overdosing? (laughs) We’re all overdosed and we’re comfortable with it. With Babishai, we have also learned to use poetry in many other forms. We train children and we have poetry in nature; poetry at Mt Rwenzori or Mabira Forest or Lake Bunyonyi. We’ve managed to learn to use it and manipulate it so it fits within various places. It doesn’t mean it’s less difficult, but it does mean that it’s enjoyable now in many other forms. When we were in Kabale this year we were at Grace Villa, which is managed by Ruth Bahika and the children welcomed us with poetry! I was so impressed! They performed in both English and Rukiga and they were dancing. These are our experiences every time we interact with different communities and so even if  it’s still difficult, it’s so enjoyable. We use that strength to our advantage. We keep going because there is always a new avenue. We haven’t explored even a hundredth of what poetry can do; what Ugandan poetry can do in both publishing and performance. And we’re so excited because there’s so much that we could be doing with it.

The Babishai Niwe Poetry Award is the first award of its kind in Uganda and the first by Africans for Africans. What sparked this idea?
Well, it started as the Beverley Nambozo award, a Ugandan award for women. And then in about five years it grew from that. Our last winner from that was Rashida Namulondo, and she’s so dear to us because she just keeps growing and growing, and she always mentions Babishai as one of her first awards. The other month she was part of a play with Joshua Mmali at National Theatre and it was so wonderful to see her there!  

So when you see people developing in different ways, it’s wonderful to know that you were a part of their journey from the beginning.

Why did we start? Because there were needs that had to be met and gaps that needed to be filled. There are gaps in publishing for example. We are now going to publish a poetry collection for one of our winners, but there are so many anthologies that need to be published. We have so much to do! We’re actually going to digitise our anthologies because there are so many people who want books. We’re always called by bookshops saying they’ve run out of print, so we’ve decided to digitise them, reach the ends of the earth and then we’ll see what to do from there.

The Babishai Niwe Poetry Foundation has been in existence for 10 years now. Has the reception of poetry shifted here in Uganda?
Absolutely! There was a time when on your calendar there would be one poetry event to attend in six months. Now you have to say no to some of them because you can’t attend all! And that’s growth. It’s wonderful that our calendars are so full of poetry events to attend.

Part of the growth is that people are publishing and buying more poetry.  We have shows where people pay Shs50,000 and buy the book! That’s growth.

It’s growth because Babishai interacts with young poets every other day: please, can you help? I want to record my poetry. I’m a bilingual poet who comes from the Congo or Ethiopia or Malawi or Tanzania. And for me, that’s growth! More people want to be poets. I just wish there were more places where their answers could be met. We’re trying. We’re doing a lot of training for these people, so are other spaces around the continent, but we don’t have the answers or the provision for everyone’s needs. But I’m glad that they’re questions to be answered and more people are proud to be poets and bold enough to ask questions. Who knows what will happen in five years’ time?

Also, the intellectual interaction has grown. I learn so much about poetry from seeing and talking to people on Facebook, on the phone, on WhatsApp forums. The intellectual growth of the discussions is magnificent! It really blows me away. This is an empire on its own. This growth is not from Babishai Niwe alone. We interact with different poetry people and spaces every day. We learn from each other and sharpen each other’s minds. so many ideas, so much collaboration. It’s great.

How about poetry as a career: are people able to see poetry as a valid source of income and fulfilment?
I would say most certainly. As a poet, I am called by organisations to talk about conflict resolution and creative expression. This week alone, I have trained scientists on creative presentations and storytelling. They sought me out because I am a poet and because through poetry, I have grown and established different things. After speaking at a Rotary Meeting in Kisugu recently, they asked me questions afterward: what else are you doing? Can you train children? I am currently teaching at an international school, handling the Model UN programme and the reason they chose me was my CV is full of poetry.  So you can absolutely create a career out of poetry. I have. People are.

What I would propose is you get a business advisor to help with a plan at the beginning, so you, you manage the art and the work and someone else manages your business.

Beverley Nambozo speaking at a Rotary Club meeting in Kasangati.

Are there ways, as a society, that we can contribute to the poetry scene here in Uganda?
Give us green spaces! There’s so much you could do in a green space. Nature and art are synonymous with creativity. It’s just a given. Other countries have so many parks where you just wander and wonder and we need more of that. Spaces where poets can just get drunk in nature and create. So give us the green spaces, nicely cut lawns and trimmed forests. Practice reforestation and let us be wild in that natural habitation. That would change a lot.

We can start encouraging children to visit these spaces and practice creative expression.

There has been a rise in the popularity of African authors overseas, with novels and short stories. Do you think the African poetry story is being told adequately?
Not yet. African poets do not have adequate recognition yet. The main poetry space is in Nebraska, African Poetry Book Fund (APBF) and we collaborate a lot because they haven’t found another annual poetry competition in Africa that’s consistent. But we don’t have an association. So the communication and circulation will remain within the small circle of Babishai in Kampala and APBF in Nebraska. And yet potentially there could be so much more! I’ve been to the Ake festival, to StoryMoja Festival and you can not even compare the time and resources given to those given to solely poetry festivals. 

Besides an association do you think there is anything we can do to better tell the African poetry story?
Just have outlets for poetry only. We have some great spaces, Brittle Paper for example is amazing, they talk about our winners before we’ve even told the public. (laughs) That’s how good they are. We need to use the strength that Brittle Paper has and create something only for poetry. We need to do more and not be afraid of things like target audience. We need a space where someone that is looking for all things African Poetry can be pointed to.

… In closing?
Let’s embrace the wave of poetry because it’s continuing to cause great tides and storms and typhoons. Whenever there’s a chance to be a part of a spoken word space, to buy a book, to participate in a performance, please do so. Not just because it’s Ugandan poetry, but because every time a Ugandan poet gets up to speak, more times than not, they’re saying something important about our times, about the ways in which we need to change, about each other, a reflection of who we are. It doesn’t matter whether they’re children or 90-year-old poets. Listen, give them audience.

Thank you Babishai Niwe Poetry Foundation and Beverley Nambozo for the very important work you are doing in the African poetry space. Here is to 10 more years! 🥂

#AnitaEverything 5: Anita And Chemistry | Ernest Bazanye

Previously on Anita Everything, a fat thick huge obnoxious Prado comes to a screeching halt at the edge of Anita’s airtime stall. Which is now also a coffee kiosk.

Big Ssu is my landlord. I would call him a friend except for two things. First of all, he’s not the sort of person you want to be associated with in public. He is very very corrupt. He is possibly the most corrupt Ugandan not working for government. This guy has a fully valid driver’s license, but he would rather bribe the police than spend the energy looking for it in his agbada. Yeah. he wears oversized agbadas all the time. That’s why we call him big. And his name is Ssuna, that’s why he is called Ssu.

Second of all, your landlord is like your ex. You can never be just friends.

Big Ssu: Do you have airtime for the Iphone X?

Anita: What is the iPhoneX?

Big Ssu: It is the most expensive phone in the world.

Anita: Ooh, that one. I always called it the eefoncks. But that is because I am not formarry eduated. I only have nacho interrigence. Yes, Oga. I have airtime for your eefoncks.

Big Ssu: It’s called Iphone X.

Anita: As I said, I have natural interrigence. So I will call it the eefoncks. Let me get that airtime for you.

Me: (I was there at the time. Just chilling sipping coffee from Kanungu, best I ever had. Eyaya. Kanungu can germinate a bean! I even spilled a drop on the ground and said RIP the homie gorillas that have passed on) Sup Big Ssu.

Big Ssu: Baz, I can’t see you, shurrup, because this woman is too hot. But what’s your name? You are fine as wine, in the sunshine, all the others can go to the back of the line because you are geometrically the sine and the cosine, whoever they assign to design your bassline, was an Einstein. Surely you should be mine. Here. Don’t just load airtime on the phone, load your number in as well.

Me: Wait. Big Ssu. You are a middle aged man. Why are you vibing young girls like Anita?

Big Ssu: Two reasons. The money I have and the damns to give that I don’t.

Anita: Here you go. I have roaded our eefoncks airtime. But that means now I have no more airtime to sell. You know I usually stock for the simple cheap china phones of these Bulabira scrubs, like Baz here.

Me: Excuse you Snobby Wine. This is a Huawei P9. Octocore engine, Android N, and enough memory for every decent album Jay-Z ever put out. Meaning I can’t store anything he made after Kingdom Come.

Anita: No offence meant, Anko Baz

Me: Don’t lie to me.

Anita: Okay, some offense but not too much.

Me: That’s better. Now, thank you for the coffee, I shall now be on my way. Big Ssu, see you later.

Next episode: What shocking thing I saw later. Cliffhanger! Tententeeennnnn!

Click here for #AnitaEverything 4

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#AnitaEverything 4: Anita Meets Big Ssu | Ernest Bazanye

Now, this is how the suburb of Bulabira was laid out, for those of you who are unfamiliar with how every single Kampala suburb is laid out. We have the trading centre here. It is a string of shops each selling the same stuff. Stale cakes, sachet liquor, mosquito coils, soda, katunda lager and groudnuts. Then we have the boda stage. We also have the airtime stall. Then the rolex guys, roughly eight of them. Two smell more than the food they cook and yet they still come back every evening wondering why no one buys their rollas and blaming the government for destroying the economy.

Beyond the trading centre there are dirt paths that snake down or uphill to blocks of newly-built flats.

The landlord of one of these blocks of flats is known as Big Ssu.

He is not big. And like the late great singer said, His Name Is Not Susan.

Ssuna just likes to wear agbadas. Big flapping agbadas which puff and bluster around him like the sails of a pirate ship in a movie. You almost expect Johnny Depp and a monkey to emerge from one of his armpits.

Big Ssu is average height. Which means he is as short as I am. But he does everything in large sizes. His agbadas are oversized, his voice, his car… Well, let me tell you how it happened as we enter Dialogue Mode.

Anita: What the frying ffff… Dooshobaga! Just because the inside of the car is Japanesey, you think the outside is arso Tokyo? You forget that outside it is is the same Kampala of dust and murram? Next time I am going to keep a sack of tomatoes here.

Me: Hi Anita.

Anita: Next time such a veyko pass by zooming and raising dust, I will show dem why I was know as Deadshot in da Ggwa District Kwepena league.

Me: Anita, I want airtime. I don’t want complaining and whining.

Anita: Who does he sink he is anyway? (Scratching the airtime card as if she has a grudge against it as well.)

Me: I don’t participate in kaboozi when I have not yet had morning coffee.

Anita: Here (Producing, from behind the stand, the last thing I expected. She takes a french press ((If you know what a french press is, know why I was doubly shocked)) a ceramic mug and a bag of Kanungu’s finest grounds and proceeds to brew the best Tiwa Halle Toni Winnie Savage Berry Braxton Nwagi cup of coffee ever. Yeah. Now I’m fuelled up, I can debrief her.)

Me: That’s Big Ssu. He owns the block of flats I live in.

Anita: He is your rand road?

Me: If only he was just that….

(Cue memory flashback. I am at home, and the door has been suffering repeated knocks for a minute)

Me: (Grumbling at door) I hate it when people wake me up early in the morning. Who is knocking on my door at 10:40am?

Big Ssu: You are lazier than a bag of wet socks. Get up. It is your landlord and I have come for the rent. Let me play the clip of the song I downloaded on my phone for such situations.

Rihanna: Pay me what you owe me! Brah Brah brah!

Self: Go away, lumpen fiasco…

Big Ssu: Since when does a tenant say that to a landlord at the end of the month?

Self: Me. I pay rent so that I can have a place to rest, but if you come here with your hooves slapping at the wood making it impossible to sleep, you are deliberately curtailing the freedom to use these facilities for the purpose I paid for, which makes the transaction void. If I don’t rest, I don’t pay. I am going back to my nap. I will send you your money if and when I agree with myself to wake up.

Big Ssu: Come on, Baz, I really need money. I have to get the new iPhone.

Self: Weren’t you cut off by NIRA for not registering?

Big Ssu: That’s another reason I need rent from you people. A Congolese smuggler who used falsified documents to get a national ID used the same ID to get a registered line then left me the phone. Now he’s gone back to the Congo but the law is after him, by which I mean, if you have been following the story, I need to pay some bribes.

Self: Okay, I will pay you now. But on the condition that you stop perpetuating the culture of corruption that undermines this nation’s economic growth.

Big Ssu: I promise. After all, breaking promises is part of corruption.

(Flash Forward to the present, or whatever time you are reading this post.)

Anita: Here he comes again. That big fat Plado raising dust. Do you have a tomato to rend me?

Me: (Too busy gulping down the coffee so I can get it done before the dust comes and a: contaminate the coffee and b: because I won’t be able to breath when the dust arrives and breathing is part of swallowing.)

(We expect the car to zoom past, but instead it screeeeeeches and comes to a braking stop right in front of the airtime stall and Big Ssu pops his head out of the window.)

Big Ssu: Hello, Nakabuyairtime. Do you have the airtime for an iPhone X?

Next episode. Big Ssu vs Anita.

Click here for #AnitaEverything 3

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Women in Poetry | Harriet Anena

Harriet Anena is no doubt, currently one of the most talented poets in Africa. The various accolades under her belt, the most recent being the Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature in Africa, are evidence of this. What truly makes her stand out though is her grit and resilience. She is a hard worker. Plain and simple. And she understands truly what it means not to give up. Anena has been accepted to Columbia University, for an MFA in Creative Writing and is currently fundraising for the course that starts in August 2019 with a GoFundMe page and a poetry and music experience on the 28th, 29th and 30th of June. It has been a dream of hers for a long time to attain the knowledge and skills that come with the course, and it is one that is close to being a reality. I sat down with Anena to learn a little bit more about her poetry journey, Columbia University and her performance.

Anena, from a very young age, loved writing. First published in 2003 at the age of 17, she knew that books, words and storytelling were her thing. However, even after doing literature all through high school, she still felt there was something missing. The Ugandan Literature curriculum supports the reader more than it does the writer and for someone like Anena for whom writing had, from the beginning, been a catharsis of sorts, it was a slight disservice. “In O’ level and A’ level I never had a chance to write a piece of fictional work as part of the course/examination,” she explains, and yet for her, writing was the way in which she discussed issues pertinent to her, particularly the area of poetry. Going on to study and work in the area of Communications and Journalism, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity to study creative writing in a professional setting. She has received some training through workshops with organisations like African Writers Trust, Short Story Day Africa and StoryMoja, where she has a teen novel coming out soon. Still, the amount of exposure and skills acquired from a creative writing course would be invaluable. The MA would therefore be her weapon in the battlefield that is writing. “A lot of young writers who have not been able to study creative writing are hindered because of that lack of exposure,” says Anena.

“Listening to Anena’s poetry always feels like I am biting into a freshly harvested mango.” -Hilda Twongyeirwe | Writer & FEMRITE Co-founder & Coordinator

As a poet in Uganda there have been many hurdles that Anena has had to jump. One of them was finding an editor for her for her book, A Nation in Labour. “There are few people here who have studied editing or who have edited creative writing professionally. That was the main challenge. A lot of times, I relied on more experienced writers to look through my work. Because I was self-publishing though, I still felt I needed someone professional , who I was only able to find in Nigeria,” explains Anena.

Another issue for her has been the misconceptions about poetry as a whole. A lot of Ugandans assume poetry is for a different kind of person. It is either assumed to be for the elite, for those that are able to wrap their minds around the ‘difficult’ form of writing, or at worst, it is not considered a solid enough form of writing. “People often ask me what I write and when I say poetry, it is quickly dismissed by the question of when my novel is coming out. Even after I got the Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature the question still remains; where is the novel?”

L-R: Harriet Anena, Wole Soyinka and Tanure Ojaide at the Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature in Africa Award Ceremony

The problem with these misconceptions is when people say them often enough, they begin to feel true.
Anena was incredibly surprised at how well A Nation in Labour did mainly because of the assumption that people in Uganda and Africa do not buy books, let alone poetry books. At only four years old however, the poetry collection is on it’s sixth print run with copies being sold here in Uganda, Kenya, Nigeria and on Amazon. “I think for the artist the challenge is to see past the noise and find ways to work around the hurdles: deliver books on a boda boda, do performances and public readings, do collaborations. Work around the hurdles.”

Although her advice to young writers includes performing, Anena never really saw herself as a performer. It wasn’t until 2016 when, with help from Peter Kagayi, fellow poet and performer and Acaye Pamela, producer, director and performer, that she began to warm up to the idea. She held a production dubbed I Bow For My Boobs to a captivated audience during the Writivism Festival in the same year. The performance scheduled for the last weekend of June this year will be her third since then.  

“Harriet Anena has stood out for me since I first met her several years ago. She has an unexpected onstage persona that is only given away by the twinkle of mischief in the eye of the quiet woman one meets off-stage. A twinkle one soon learns the meaning of when she performs her work. It means humour, it means power. Anena is a feminine force of nature that takes no prisoners. Feminist. Scathing. Sensitive. Sharp. She has no blurred edges. Her prose is not like a knife, it is the blade that cuts into the patriarchy and incises its scars from the female body.” -Rachel Zadok | Short Story Day Africa Founder

When it comes to her creative process, it is clear that her work within the journalism space, previously at The Monitor and now at ACME, heavily influences her poetry. Her title poem for example, A Nation in Labour was written in 2012, based on the OPM scandal involving theft of donor funds meant for Northern Uganda and Amama Mbabazi’s statements during that time, especially in light of Uganda’s then pending 50th year of independence.

From her first collection, it is evident that Anena’s work leans towards politics. “In all my work there is always an aspect of politics because I believe that all of life is political. Even when you are looking at a situation where a man beats up his woman everyday, that is politics; power play at play,” she explains. When she had just started writing, because of her background, growing up in northern Uganda during the LRA insurgency, all her work tended to be about the war. She still continues to tackle the gender dynamics in post war Northern Uganda, mental health within that context and the action and inaction of  the government during the war. She writes about these themes outside of the war context as well, exploring things like the place of a woman in society, power dynamics and mental health in modern Kampala.

Harriet Anena (L) at the Berlin Africa Book Festival

As someone passionate about gender dynamics and conversations exploring the woman and her place in society, it’s not surprising that her biggest literary influences are unintentionally all women. Included in the list is Safia Elhillo, a Sudanese poet and spoken word performer, that she had the opportunity to meet and share a stage with on a recent trip to Berlin for the Berlin Africa Book Festival. She also deeply admires Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi and how authentic her work is. “She is unapologetic about how she uses English, how she localises our englishes and keeps the Ugandan-ness in her work. Manchester Happened is a true reflection of that unapologetic nature. There is always the temptation to sanitise your work, especially when your publisher tells you you might alienate a certain audience. So if as a writer you find your place and are able to stick to it past the noise, it’s something I admire.” Anena also admires Warsan Shire and NoViolet Bulawayo.

“Daring and innovative, Harriet Anena is well on the way to become one of the most important poets to come out of Africa in the last quarter of a century.” -James Murua | Blogger & Journalist

Anena’s performance, fundraising for her studies at Columbia University, will be a collaborative one with Gladys Oyenbot and Amaru, both talented songstresses and Peter Kagayi, a poet and performer. The performance will be based on poetry from A Nation In Labour and two other unpublished collections of poetry by Anena. “For me it’s more than a performance, it’s about questioning the different issues that run through my three poetry collections.”

The performance will be split into four parts. The first, The Strangeness of Home, will highlight some of the atrocities that occurred in Northern Uganda and bring to the forefront a conversation that might be uncomfortable but necessary. In Set Me on Fire, Anena looks at politics through the lens of the female form: a piece of political erotica. The Last Supper, segment three, will explore the idea of a normal man as Anena understands it; a man who is not forced by society to adhere to certain parameters of masculinity, a man who is not afraid to cry or express how he feels in public. The final segment will be based on poems mostly from A Nation In Labour and will question the politics of the day, the complacency of our leaders and us as voters, the hopelessness and the hope and the idea of what lies ahead.

We are stoked!

Let’s come together storylovers and make this happen for one of our Tribe. If you would like more information on Anena and her cause, head over to her GoFundMe page, read and donate if you can. Come by the National Theatre on either 28th, 29th or 30th June at 6pm and support Anena while you enjoy a thoroughly engaging performance. See you then?