Uganda.
i would feel odd writing about you just like that. i don’t know you. i’ve only heard of you, here and there. so by way of introduction, i have a few questions. feel free to answer—or not. if you’d like to ask me something, i’d love to hear.
Uganda, where are you? who lives there? how tall are you? when did you begin? what do you struggle with? do you hold on to anything? what smells do you take in on a daily basis? who makes you laugh? what is your earliest memory? do you like water—fresh or salty? have you ever seen something happen that no one believes truly took place? what was it? do you compete? which color suits you? have you ever misspoken? what do you do when someone runs off—do you go after them, or trust it’ll all be okay? which nonsense do you believe in, and which absolutely not? what do you do when you’re hot—say “it’ll pass” or actively change your surroundings? do you ever light a candle? did you learn to type from a correspondence course? do you eat meat? do you kill mosquitoes or think they matter to the ecosystem? what do you think of the smell of peaches? Make a choice: trees or grass. Walk or jump. Seeing or knowing. Up or sideways. Market or supermarket.
Robert Ssempijja is from Uganda and he is creating a space there, a residency for artists. The location has been assigned, the experience is there, the name: ERA. Rather than building something up quickly, Robert opts for organic emergence. From July 2 to 8 he organizes ERA roadness, a poetic exploration into ways of beginning. He’s forging ties with similar spaces in East Africa. From July 12 to 20, he’s in Rwanda, invited by Cedric Mizero and David Kantinti. He visits their place: Ikinyugunyugu.