Hanging out with writers at LitFest

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WHAT’S UP!

They came out in their dozens and tens, in groups and individually. They came in the morning, in the afternoon, and at times in the evening when we were almost done. Some came and never left, while others stayed for a while, but life got in the way, as sometimes it always does.

Before they came, the organisers were afraid they wouldn’t; but came they did. Some were publishers, looking for a quick deal. Some were curious, while some thought it would be a cool place to hang out; but mostly they were writers, and for three days they swarmed all over the Onomo Hotel in Nakasero for the first edition of the Kampala Write Literature Festival.

This is not a review of the festival, that has run elsewhere. This is my personal reflection on the biggest get-together of writers in Uganda in recent history. I am not sure just how many showed up, the organisers are still crunching the numbers. But the numbers were more than were expected, and for almost every session, more chairs had to be brought in. Even then, some ended up standing at the back.

Now, the Onomo is not your usual festival venue. No taxis get there and it is a long walk from Wandegeya and bodabodas drop one at the bottom of the drive. Most of the writers that turned up were young and obviously couldn’t afford the lunch, so on day two, many came with packed lunch and drinks. But came they did and stayed.

These writers are a strange breed of people. They do not make a lot of money from their art and very few make any money at all. They just love what they do. Many festivals are about having fun, letting one’s hair down and making a real blast of it.

I had never attended a literature festival; several conferences and workshops, yes. But never a festival, so I wasn’t sure quite what to expect. And I have been around quite a bit, so I can imagine few of the others did.

The festival’s line-up of events had a couple of workshops, but mostly it was panel discussions. Not something exciting for young people, I thought.

The opening night

Opening night was on Friday, an invite-only event and it tended to the academic, discussing literary spaces and their effect on Uganda’s literature. But keynote speaker Dr Susan Kiguli gave a resounding call for Ugandans to write their own stories, preferably in their languages.

She then recited her poem: My Language and your language, in Luganda, followed by a recital in English of the same poem by a student of hers. The poem has so far been translated into more than five languages, including English, French, German and Swahili.

The next day, there was a masterclass on writers’ copyright by the Uganda Reproduction Rights Organisation, a body I had never heard of and it seemed not many in the audience had, either. But it was an eye-opener to many.

Writing in Uganda

There were discussions on contemporary writing trends in Uganda and it turns out quite many are choosing hitherto unpopular genres, such as fantasy and science fiction. There was a light moment when someone suggested that what the British termed witchcraft was really Ugandan science fiction.

What’s a writer without being published? A spirited debate on the pitfalls of publishing in Uganda was held and it is a sign of the times when an author, who had sold 300 copies of her book, was deemed to be successful.

Did someone say Ugandans don’t read? If the irrepressible Rosey Sembatya had her way, we would all start them young and the children’s reading session on Sunday morning was well attended.

Then it got personal and intense when it came to discussing the writing of memoirs and not a few tears were shed when participants spoke about the emotional impact of writing one’s story.

Poetry performances

In between sessions were spoken poetry performances and dramatisations of excerpts from Okot p’Bitek’s Song of Lawino, John Rugunda’s Burdens and Jennifer Makumbi’s Manchester Happened. P’Bitek’s daughter, Juliane, was present for the reading of her father’s book.

The finale was a discussion on censorship and how writers can co-exist with a state that would prefer controlling what is written.

A long time ago, I attended a graduation reception for the British Council’s Crossing Borders writing programme. In my review of the event, I wrote how the participants in the programme acted like they were different, special people just because they were writers.

I take that back; you folks are different. You may not be quite special yet, but from the enthusiasm shown during those two days, you will definitely get there.

At the end of the day, everyone left with a spring in their steps, determined to write more, get published and tell our stories properly. It was not your usual festival, but quite a weekend well spent. Can’t wait for the next, bigger edition.

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