Re-reporting News

My residency in Ghana was an exploration of how art can serve as a language to inform, respond to, or react to human rights issues. It began with ongoing conversations with filmmaker Emilie Flower—conversations shaped by distance, yet deeply thought-provoking. These discussions pushed me to reflect not only on my artistic practice but also on my position as an artist engaging with human rights reports about Uganda.

Initially, my focus was on Stella Nyanzi, an exiled human rights advocate repeatedly imprisoned for speaking out against the president. My initial aim was to illustrate and respond to her case through comics, positioning her story within a broader African context. To achieve this, I collaborated with a Ghanaian illustrator I had met in November 2023 through a knowledge exchange program between Blaxtarlines at Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology (KNUST), Art Department in Kumasi, and Underground Contemporary Art, a nomadic contemporary art project. Choosing Ghana for my residency allowed me to compare artistic responses to political climates and understand how artists navigate and survive repression. Unlike Uganda, where freedom of expression has steadily declined, Ghana presents a different landscape, offering valuable insights.

I arrived in Ghana on September 2nd, 2024, beginning my residency with a visit to the Ghana National Museum in Accra, followed by visits to a number of local art spaces, before heading to Kumasi. There, I encountered the Komaland terracotta figurines—remnants of a lost civilization from the 6th to 14th century, excavated in 1985 by University of Ghana researchers. These miniature clay figures intrigued me, making me reflect on how Africans told stories before photography arrived. Though I initially viewed the visit as incidental, my perspective shifted in Kumasi when I met Ghanaian clay artist Frederick Okai. He shared his process, his connection to clay, and his collaborations with traditional ceramicists who create for craft rather than art spaces.

In Okai’s studio, I molded my first clay head, recalling the coffee head sketches I had intended to develop into a comic. This tactile experience resonated with me—it felt like a conversation, much like the ones I have when drawing. I believe research must be felt, not just studied, and this encounter reinforced that belief. I later returned to experiment further, carrying a block of clay back to my residency. Soon, I realized I was drifting from my initial plan to create a comic. This shift unsettled me at first, but I allowed myself to explore. Eventually, I fired my clay heads, titling them MPs—though I left their meaning open-ended.

Returning to Kampala after a month, I joined the Instructors in Residency program at 32° East Arts Centre, where I worked alongside a clay artist and an illustrator in their studios. Immersing myself in both disciplines, I participated in an open studio at the end of the year. Through working with clay, I recognized the vast and often invisible network involved in human rights violations—not just government institutions like the army, parliament, or judiciary, but also the spies paid to monitor activists, the soldiers ensuring protests don’t happen, and even the boda boda riders who stir up conversations to gauge political leanings. These figures often go unnoticed, yet they play critical roles in suppressing dissent. Clay, I realized, could model such individuals, making the unseen visible.

In the digital studio, I returned to my initial goal: creating characters from coffee heads. This led to Oliwa—a Luganda phrase meaning “Where are you?”—which became both a thematic inquiry and an Instagram handle. Oliwa explores coffee heritage while using illustration to engage with street-level political discourse. Unexpectedly, my exploration aligned with real-world events—just two months after my arrival in Ghana, Uganda’s controversial Coffee Bill was passed in November 2024. This bill granted the government monopoly over coffee trade, sparking public opposition. However, demonstrations were stifled, and movement on the streets was restricted, revealing yet another human rights violation. These connections—between coffee, politics, and human rights—emerged organically through my artistic process.

My residency in Ghana and subsequent experiences in Uganda deepened my understanding of human rights beyond institutional narratives. Through clay and comics, I am shaping new ways to tell these stories, using Oliwa as a space to refine my craft, engage in dialogue, and respond to the political landscape through art.