I'm a writer-director who tells social-change stories, because I believe stories touch and move us. Stories humanize and teach us to empathize. Stories change us.
When I write and direct plays, I'm amplifying voices of disadvantaged groups, I'm fighting the self-censorship that has kept many Ugandan artists away from social, political theater since the persecution of artists by former Ugandan president, Idi Amin. And most importantly, I am breaking the silence and provoking meaningful conversations on taboo issues, where often "Silence is golden" is the rule of thumb. Conversations are important because they inform and challenge our minds to think, and change starts with thinking.
One of my struggles with activism is its often one-sided nature that blinds us to alternative view, that numbs our empathy, that makes us view those who see issues differently as ignorant, self-hating, brainwashed, sellout or plain stupid. I believe no one is ignorant. We are all experts, only in different fields. And this is why, for me, the saying "stay in your truth" is misleading. Because if you're staying in your truth, isn't it logical that the person you believe is wrong is also staying in their truth? So, what you have is two extremes that shut out all possible avenues of conversations. I create provocative theater and film to touch, humanize and move disagreeing parties to the conversation table to bridge misunderstandings. I know that listening to one another will not magically solve all problems. But it will give a chance to create avenues to start to work together to solve many of humanity's problems.
With my first play, "Silent Voices," based on interviews with victims of the Northern Uganda war between the government and Joseph Kony's LRA rebel group, I brought together victims, political leaders, religious leaders, cultural leaders, the Amnesty Commission and transitional justice leadership for critical conversations on issues of justice for war crime victims -- the first of its kind in the history of Uganda. And so many powerful things happened, that I can't even cover them all right now. Victims were given the opportunity to sit at the table with Amnesty Commission leadership, and they expressed the big injustice they suffered when the Commission ignored them and instead facilitated the resettlement of the war perpetrators. And the Amnesty Commission acknowledged the victims' pain and explained the thinking behind their flawed approaches.
But one of the things that has stayed with me is when, during my Northern Uganda tour of the play, a man approached me and introduced himself as a former rebel soldier of Joseph Kony. He told me that he didn't want me to leave feeling disappointed, due to some of what I considered inappropriate laughter. He explained that his was a laughter of embarrassment and a recognition of his own embarrassment. He saw himself in the actors onstage and saw the meaninglessness of his past actions. So I say: share your truths. Listen to one another's truths. You will discover a more powerfully uniting truth in the middle ground.
When I lived in the USA, many of my American friends would be shocked at my ignorance at fancy Western dishes like lasagna, for instance.
(Laughter)
And my question to them would be, "Well, do you know malakwang?" And then I would tell them about malakwang, a fancy vegetable dish from my culture. And they would tell me about lasagna. And we would leave richer and fuller individuals. Therefore, share your recipe truth. It makes for a better meal.
Thank you.
(Applause)
