The Potholes Go Beyond the Streets: Have You Heard the Latest Declaration?

The beauty of Uganda’s creative industry is that its leaders decide when and how to define it, often depending on the per diem available or their personal agenda for attending an event. Just last week, I came across a tweet from someone invited to speak at a “creative industries” symposium, asking what they should say on behalf of musicians and they are not a musician. And then, when I say I love my country but my country doesn’t love me, people dismiss me as just another “spoiled Gen Z” looking for reasons to be chaotic.

Today, I was sent a declaration regarding the Stage Plays and Public Entertainment Policy, and I could feel my hair lifting off my scalp one strand at a time. The audacity of these people to tie the hind legs of a cow they don’t even feed! I went back to review my notes on these acts because, as it stands, the creative industry isn’t considered essential in this country. In fact, it’s one of the non-priority items in the national budget. If you’re unsure what that means, let me simplify: imagine going to the hospital with a bleeding toe, only to be told by the nurse, “Please wait on the side. We have more critical patients; a bleeding toe won’t kill you.” That’s where the creative industry stands right now.

We have an act that’s influenced by several others, such as the Electronic Media Act. But do these acts have specific provisions for stage plays and public entertainment? From what I’ve seen, not really. Still, let’s proceed with my few cents—actually, just one cent.

According to the second paragraph of the declaration from UCC (citing the Stage Plays and Public Entertainment Rules 2019 and the RE: Act of 2023), no individual or entity shall stage a play or public entertainment without first obtaining a permit from the Commission. Is this no longer under the Media Council? While this may seem like a solid policy on paper, do we even have the systems in place to implement it?

Speaking as someone with hands-on experience in stage plays, I can confidently say the process is frustrating. In 2023, I was part of an organization that had an incredibly tough time securing clearance for a festival. If you don’t believe me, there are receipts on Twitter of young artists pleading for their plays to be heard. Let me walk you through the process based on my experience:

You submit your requirements as outlined on the website. On the day you submit, you may find no one in the office, so the cleaner steps in to call for assistance. You’re instructed to leave the documents and wait. If you follow up, you’re told the amounts you need to pay. But if you wait for them to contact you, no one does. In fact, your show can go on without anyone reaching out. Once you pay the required fees, you have to beg for the rate cards for your production. And if you ask for proof of payment—a receipt—don’t hold your breath. Keep your bank slip handy because the receipt might only show up after the next government takes office.

Adding to the frustration, the forms for stage plays are adapted from film requirements. You’re expected to manually write “stage” on them in blue or black ink. This one-size-fits-all approach leads to delays, often resulting in rate cards being issued just an hour before the show.

It’s baffling that stage plays and films—despite being entirely different mediums—are treated the same. Do those enforcing these policies even understand the costs involved? Do they know how much it takes to hire or buy a camera? Do they have any idea what it costs to stage a production at the National Theatre? Do they even read the scripts submitted to them?

And let’s not forget, under the Broadcasting Council, there’s a senior official tasked with representing culture. But does this official know anything about theatre, or are they better versed in other art genres?

On the brighter side, permits are free if the event is for charity, education, public purpose, or performed by an “amateur group.” (Though, I must admit, I’d love to see their definition of “amateur group.”) However, this doesn’t stop police from showing up and asking if you’ve paid for security—only for no officers to show up at the venue but we are securing the future.

Another interesting discovery is that the commission has the power to enter venues and attend rehearsals or performances. While this might sound reasonable, many directors dislike exposing their creative processes to outsiders for the actors’ sake. But does the commission understand or care about such nuances? Probably not.

Moreover, why must producers facilitate commission members’ visits when the permits we pay for already include taxes that can, if not already fund their salaries? (See Part IV, 16, 1c of the Electronic Media act.) That percentage should cover their facilitation. Yet, they often arrive late, demanding undivided attention with questions like, “You don’t know me?” Well, perhaps I would if you’d introduced yourself properly or informed us in advance about your visit.

The objectives of the Stage Plays and Public Entertainment Rules of 2019 include providing for the commission’s powers and functions, regulating permit applications, overseeing advertising, and managing the withdrawal of permits. But here’s the question: are these objectives being met, or are they only enforced when convenient? With 2026 just around the corner, we all know what that means.

Do the affected creatives even know about these policies? Are they aware that there’s a committee meant to represent their interests? Does this committee understand what the industry needs to grow? Are the creatives informed that the committee reports to Parliament?

On a final note, I am grateful to these acts for introducing me to the term cinematograph theatre, which dates back to the 1890s and apparently refers to conventional spaces in an Act which was updated on 21st December, 2023.

I love my country. But does my country love me?

@Ulokcwinyu Ubia