Artist, cultural worker and activist Ulokcwinyu Ubia Hope lives in Kampala, Uganda. She engages in applied theatre, artistic initiatives and community projects in various parts of the country. She has also organized artistic projects with young refugees in Kiryandongo, a district in mid-western Uganda that has been hosting refugees from neighboring countries for decades. Uganda is one of the largest refugee-hosting countries in the world today. Since last year, the humanitarian situation has worsened due to the devastating war in Sudan.
In 2024, Ubia participated in the international artist exchange program Watch&Talk as part of the Zürcher Theater Spektakel. Through this program, she had the opportunity to explore the festival and engage with a wide range of artistic approaches from different regions of the world. Watch&Talk is supported by the Swiss Arts Council Pro Helvetia. In this interview with dramaturg and curator Maria Rößler, Ubia discusses her applied theatre practice and the challenges faced by cultural workers in Uganda.
Ubia, we had the pleasure of meeting in person last year during Zürcher Theater Spektakel. Back home in Uganda, you have worked as a coordinator for the Kampala International Theatre Festival, among other things. Why is international cultural exchange important to you?
Being a coordinator at the Kampala International Theatre Festival has been one of my most valuable experiences. What stands out for me at these international art festivals is the connecting experience of vulnerability when performers present their work in an unfamiliar context. They really have to bring their A-game when performing in a new place and engaging with a new audience. For me, cultural exchange means encountering a new person. And the beauty of it is that sometimes this person is speaking about the same challenges we are facing in this country. That’s when I think: «Oh, we are not alone. Someone else is going through this, too.» And if they can address it, then we can also find a way to address it.
At festivals, I also love how curators consider the themes of the performances and how to create conversations around them for the local audience. It’s like a thread of stories being woven throughout the festival. This is what I experienced at Zürcher Theater Spektakel – many stories unfolding in parallel. The same thing happened at last year’s Kampala International Theatre Festival, where we discussed how to fight femicide, how to support female writers, and at the same time, how to engage with African culture and dance.
I believe that international cultural exchanges foster a sense of community in the arts. Through these exchanges, you can build relationships. In the Watch&Talk program, I met nine individuals with different artistic focuses and backgrounds. I had the chance to explore their artistic practices and reflect on my own work. And now, if I need a dramaturg with a European perspective, I know who to contact. If I need advice on technical aspects, I know someone who can guide me. If I need expertise in dance and choreography, I have a connection. And if I need help navigating the European performing arts scene, I know I can reach out to friends there. This is something I deeply appreciate about international cultural exchange – it enables lasting connections. Even after a short period of bonding, the potential for collaboration opens up.
Speaking of diverse artistic expertise, you are a multi-disciplinary artist – a poet, a playwright, an arts administrator, and an activist. Why and how did you decide to become an artist?
As a girl, I was bullied in school. I was teased for my skin color and complexion – in my own country of origin. Writing in my diary became my best way to express my feelings and frustrations. Over time, writing turned into a habit. I kept a notebook, and during the school holidays, I would give it to my father so he could read about how my term had been. As I continued writing, I became more comfortable expressing my thoughts without censoring myself, and in doing so, I gained confidence.
I grew up in a refugee-hosting community. I saw immigrants go through difficult times, and their struggles became part of my story. I wrote about how I saw refugees live their lives, how it affected me, and how it shaped my friendships with them.
At first, my dream was to become a journalist so I could continue writing stories. In the end, I didn’t become a journalist, but I realized that theatre was a powerful way to tell stories – both other people’s stories and my own. I come from a family that loves storytelling. We tell stories at night before going to bed. I grew up immersed in this culture, listening to my father, mother, brothers, and grandfather share their stories. Over time, I moved beyond just writing and gradually built the confidence to speak. That’s how I found my way into theatre.
In my country, universities and art institutions encourage multidisciplinary practice. By the time you finish a course, you have been exposed to all the art forms, and then you choose a specialization.
However, the arts are not widely appreciated here. Parents often see them as just a hobby rather than a profession. So when I finished high school and told my family I was going to study performing arts at Makerere University, the first question was: «What will you become after studying?» They were used to the idea that children study to become doctors, teachers, or engineers. As an artist, I don’t have a fixed job title – one day I’m a director, the next a curator, then an actor, and another day a stage assistant. There is no single word to describe what I do.
One of my motivations for studying performing arts was to prove people wrong – to show that I can earn a living through the arts, create change through the arts, and become someone respected, loved, and valued by my community.
And today, what inspires you to work in this field?
What inspires me today is the need to speak – to speak out about issues, but in a playful way, so people don’t feel attacked. In the country I live in, aggression is seen as opposition. If you express yourself too forcefully, you risk being arrested or publicly condemned. So how do we address our issues in a way that doesn’t provoke hostility? We write, create cartoons, perform poetry, use costumes, and act things out in a humorous way. The very people we want to reach are watching these performances, laughing – but the message still gets through. This is how we say what we need to say. For me, it’s really about advocacy now. We need to create change, and someone has to speak out. If we don’t, we will die with heavy hearts.
What specific challenges do you think artists and art workers are facing in Uganda today?
There are many obstacles – censorship, underfunding, and a general lack of support. Public funding for the arts is rare. Yet, artists are regularly invited to perform at national celebrations like Independence Day. But how are the dancers supposed to eat at the end of the day? How are the actors expected to pay their bills? The performing arts are considered a non-priority sector, so no one takes the time to plan or budget for it. The people responsible for arts funding and planning have little or no understanding of the performing arts. I don’t think they realize how much it costs to hire a cast for a stage production – or even what it takes to rent a camera.
Last week, a new directive was issued by a regulatory body in our country: Artists and event organizers are now required to obtain a permit to showcase their work. We have to apply for this permit, explain the project in detail, disclose its content, and pay for it ourselves. We are also required to submit our script along with an emergency plan in case of any incidents. This regulatory body decides whether, and from what age, people can watch a performance. They are supposed to think for us – and after all the hassle, we are still expected to acknowledge and thank them for their «support.» Even if we accept that paying for permits is a form of taxation, there is no accountability for how the money is used. We don’t know where the money is going, and we aren’t benefiting from it. They are milking a cow that they don’t feed.
I’m sorry to hear that. Producing art independently and without funding is already challenging enough, and now these permits add yet another burden. There seems to be a strong push to regulate the encounter between artists and audiences – to discourage and control artistic expression.
Yes. Artists and performance spaces are facing many obstacles. On top of that, you can’t advertise your play on a TV station without a permit. And if we use social media platforms, it falls under the Computer Misuse Act.
Most importantly, we are dealing with a society that wants to see change but isn’t ready to contribute to it. These problems have been discussed in meetings and forums for years. We keep saying: «Change begins with you; you have to take the first step.» But is the community truly ready to take those steps?
You engage in applied theatre initiatives focused on social change, addressing issues such as mental health, girls’ education, and community empowerment. You have also initiated artistic activities with refugees in Uganda. As a community theatre practitioner, how do you work? And what is the impact of applied theatre in community engagement?
I am the founder of the Obiamwrights Foundation, an organization that uses applied theatre to address and solve social issues. It all started with a project called «Poem on the Mic» in Kiryandongo District, a refugee-hosting community in Uganda. The Kiryandongo refugee settlement is home to refugees from various countries, including DR Congo, Kenya, Rwanda, South Sudan, Ethiopia, and Somalia. And while I applaud Uganda for being a welcoming country that takes in refugees, I also believe that sometimes we take on more than we can handle. The country is not in a position to support everyone. Many organizations aim to help, but they often impose their own ideologies on people without fully understanding what they have been through.
We don’t want to be an organization that imposes ideas or defines problems for people. So, we first conduct research in dialogue with the community to identify the problem together with them. Sometimes, this requires us to stay in the community so we can truly understand what is going on. A core concept of applied theatre is that people have their own minds and the ability to create solutions for the problems they face. No one understands the problem better than they do. The Foundation’s role is to guide them through the process of finding solutions.
Our first project was «Refugees Have Got Talent» in 2019, in partnership with an organization called Dream Production. We trained participants in music, dance, and drama, giving them the opportunity to showcase their talents. Many of them already had skills – whether in modelling, rapping, or writing skits – and our role was simply to guide them and offer advice on how to refine their work. We held an adjudication, and some participants won prizes. Some of them are still pursuing their craft, and we continue to follow their progress. When we organize other activities, they often join in, helping to boost the morale of new participants.
During the Covid-19 pandemic, we organized the «Donate a Mask» campaign. Young children in refugee settlements were particularly vulnerable to Covid-19 and often ended up in community hospitals. Organizations were providing masks, but people weren’t using them. However, mothers in these communities make clothes themselves and often keep small pieces of fabric. We convinced them to tailor masks from that fabric. When the children received masks made by their own mothers, they liked wearing them. As a result, the number of children contracting Covid-19 in that community decreased significantly.
After that, we organized the «She Needs a Pad» campaign in Kampala. We partnered with the Kirabo Women’s Initiative, a long-term partner of ours. We trained girls on menstrual health and how to make reusable sanitary towels to support menstrual hygiene. Many girls couldn’t afford to buy pads every month. Some developed health problems due to poor hygiene, needed treatment, but couldn’t afford it. We also trained them to create small skits that they could perform for community elders to raise awareness about their struggles. We realized that speeches weren’t effective—so instead, we turned to performance. People would come and watch because performances are fun, they would receive the message, and afterward, we could have a conversation about this difficult topic. Fortunately, the «She Needs a Pad» campaign was a success.
In 2023, a TV report revealed the high rate of girls dropping out of school in Zombo District. This prompted us to develop the «Stay in School» campaign. It took us two years to raise the funds needed to launch this initiative. We finally went to Zombo District, where we worked with 38 schoolgirls. Our goal was to empower them to stay in school. They told us about their experiences, what they go through, and how supportive – or unsupportive – their parents are. Again, some of them shared that they left school because they didn’t have pads. They were bullied during their menstruation, which made them feel insecure and caused them to lose their self-esteem. We addressed these challenges through theatre, also training the girls in theatre performance. During their time with us, we mentored them in camera work, video production, public speaking, and leadership coordination. Some of these girls showed exceptional skills and are now assisting me.
We invited community leaders who are in a position to create change regarding this issue. These leaders watched the performances, provided feedback, and engaged in dialogues with the girls. We then created a follow-up system that we continue to monitor. We stay in contact with people in the community and keep records of the participants. Since many of the girls do not have phones, we contact them through their parents. We check in on their progress, and twice a year, we visit their schools to have one-on-one conversations with them. Although financial challenges are real, we do our best with what we have and provide support. We buy materials so the girls can continue making pads, and once they sell them, they can sustain the business on their own. We don’t want to create a dependency syndrome where the foundation is expected to keep providing money. We offer some start-up capital, and after that, we expect the girls to sustain themselves through their own efforts.
It's truly remarkable how local, women-led initiatives like yours can make a real difference by listening carefully to community members – not only recognizing their problems but also valuing their knowledge, resources, and strengths, and finding ways to activate and support them. What is next for you? What are your plans for 2025?
After my visit to the festival in Zurich, I promised myself that I would pursue research residencies to gain knowledge and bring it back home. That is one of my goals.
At Zürcher Theater Spektakel, I attended a conversation with representatives of the organization «Artists at Risk», which left a strong impression on me. I am curious about the perspectives of migrant artists. Having seen how immigrant artists in my country struggle to get back on their feet and gain validation, I wondered: What are the experiences of artists who have fled and immigrated to Switzerland and other European countries? What does it take to prosper as an artist in another country, away from home? What kind of support do they need after their arrival? What challenges do they face? Do they have regrets? If they had the chance to go back home, what would they do differently?
There are times when it feels like Uganda is pushing me away. I thought, if I’m being persecuted in my country for my work, perhaps I need to leave and find a new home. But then I ask myself what this would mean for my artistic work. Would I be able to perform the way I do back home? Is there a way I can still practice my art and make my point clear without leaving my country? Or, if I leave, can I return and create change with what I’ve learned? Those questions remain open for me, and so, for now, I look forward to pursuing opportunities for research trips and residencies in other countries to sharpen my perspective.
I continue working to enable artistic expression here in Uganda, for example, by securing funding to give poets the freedom to write and share what they wish. If they want to write about love, they should. If they want to express how they feel about their country or humanity, they should. For me, this project involves writing concepts, applying for grants, and seeking funding from international organizations. Unfortunately, there are next to no state grants from our own country because we are not a priority here. As arts practitioners, we rely heavily on relationships, collaboration, and mutual favors. Artists mentor each other and exchange different knowledge and skills.
Currently, I am also coordinating a stage production at Arts Treasure Uganda. The piece is called «ROPE». It is written by Lloyd Lutara and will be directed by legendary director Kaya Kagimu Mukasa.
That sounds amazing! I hope everything will go smoothly, both in terms of production and permits. Thank you for taking the time for this interview. I wish you all the best for your projects!
Thank you, Maria.
Credits
Interview: Maria Rößler
The conversation took place in English.
Translation into German: Franziska Henner
Portrait photo: Twinomugisha
Photos: Keerera Nellie