At its core, Usoni is a story of immigration. The Kenyan sci-fi television series is set in 2062 and paints a portrait of what the world would be like if immigration was reversed and European refugees were fleeing to Africa.
Created by Dr Marc Rigaudis of the United States International University (USIU) in Nairobi, the film casts Africa as an oasis, the only place where the sun shines. It follows a young couple who embark on a dangerous journey to reach the continent but before their dream can be realised, they must overcome the worst of humanity and beat impossible odds.
Speaking to TechMoran, producer Denver Ochieng explained: “Usoni is actually a series focusing on the travel of a couple from the natural disaster stricken Europe to the now illustrious Africa in 2062. It is a story which focuses on the immigration hurdles of Africans to Europe and looks at how it would be if the reverse were to happen.”
The pilot episode was screened at USIU last week. Now we wait to see if it’ll be picked up by local or even international channels.
Shooting scenes on the boat. (Pic: Usoni crew / Facebook)
Coming to terms with HIV has not been easy for 13-year old Jean. Shy and soft-spoken, he is not completely at ease with telling others about the complexities of growing up with HIV.
“When I learnt I was HIV positive, my mother’s big sister told me not to tell anyone because there are some people who, when they hear that you’re HIV positive, they don’t want to get close to you,” says Jean. “People here don’t know what HIV is and when they find out you are HIV positive, they don’t want to have anything to do with you.”
Having lost both his parents, Jean lives with his aunt in Abidjan, the largest city in Côte d’Ivoire. Here, adolescents aged 10 to 19 constitute a quarter of the total population and in 2012 they accounted for almost 10% of all new HIV infections in the country[1].
According to Dr Jean Konan Kouamé, an HIV specialist with Unicef in Côte d’Ivoire, such high infection rates can be attributed to “early sexual debut, ignorance about how HIV can be transmitted and limited access to HIV prevention and treatment services”.
According to recent data, 88% of the population has never taken an HIV test[2]. Dr. Kouamé believes that this is “because people do not know that if they know their HIV status they can access a treatment that allows them to live longer and healthy lives”.
Stigma associated with HIV is such that people living with the virus are reluctant to disclose their status even to their immediate family. For children going through the delicate transition to adolescence, this can result in isolation and loneliness, which makes it difficult to access care, treatment and support services available to them.
Jean came out of isolation when he met Cécile Traoré, a support worker with Femmes Actives, a non-governmental organisation (NGO) that provides support to children and women living with HIV. Cécile pays regular visits to Jean in his home. She checks whether he is taking his HIV medication correctly and simply lends him a friendly ear.
NGOs like Femmes Actives play a key role in supporting adolescents living with HIV and emphasising the importance of antiretroviral treatment. (Pic: Unicef)
“Adolescents need social, physiological and moral support, they need someone to confide in and share their life experiences with,” says Cécile. “It’s not easy to support an adolescent because they need to be monitored continuously, otherwise they let things go.”
With Cécile’s help, Jean joined a support group for children living with HIV. The group provides children with a safe space where they can share their experiences, learn life skills and forge new relationships.
“During the meeting, we’re asked questions, we draw, we talk about what’s going on in our lives and we are given advice,” says Jean. “I feel very good, I feel at ease because I’m with children who have the same HIV status as me.”
Watch an interview with Jean below
Adolescence is a difficult period of transition from childhood to adulthood that is characterised by physical and sexual maturation, movement toward social and economic independence, and development of identity.
Barriers to accessing health services Health services in Côte d’Ivoire are not always equipped to provide care and support that takes into account the specific needs of adolescences living with HIV and that is why this age group is often left in limbo between child and adult care. Only a small proportion of adolescents who are long-term survivors born with HIV have access to antiretroviral treatment, and most receive it through limited numbers of specialised centres in urban and peri-urban settings.
Jean knows very well how difficult it can be to cope with the challenges of being a teenager living with HIV: “If a young person who is HIV positive has no one to support them, they need a lot of support from their family or an NGO, otherwise they are going to think a lot about negative stuff and stress about the fact that they have HIV,” he says.
NGOs like Femmes Actives play a key role in bridging this gap. Thanks to Cécile jean was able to gradually come to terms with his life as an adolescent living with HIV and learn the importance of adhering to antiretroviral treatment. Through the support group, he met other children with whom he can talk freely about common concerns in a non-judgmental environment.
However in Côte d’Ivoire and across the African continent, adolescents face many barriers to accessing health and support services and they are routinely neglected in national and global AIDS strategies.
Opportunities for greater success in reducing the impact of HIV on adolescents lie in increasing demand for, access to and uptake of key interventions. Barriers to access services must be removed, while the social and economic factors that increase adolescents’ vulnerability to HIV must be addressed. Only by making the most of these opportunities, an AIDS-free generation will be achieved.
Chiara Frisone is a communication consult with Unicef’s Africa Service Unit.
[1]Stocktaking Report on Children and AIDS. Unicef 2013
[2]Enquête Démographique et de Santé et à Indicateurs Multiples EDSCI-III. Côte d’Ivoire, 2011-2012. Ministère de la Santé et de la Lutte contre le Sida, Institut National de la Statistique, MEASURE DHS, ICF International.
An Africa with abundant resources, where you simply scatter seeds and harvest fruit, and everybody is a friend and a welcome guest. An Africa where stories are told under the stars and songs are sung around the fire, where beer is drunk and wisdom passed on to robust, hopeful young people. That is the Africa Stephen Rwangyezi (58), founder of Ndere Troupe, the biggest cultural group in Uganda, is trying to capture and preserve for generations to come.
Many times, it has been like trying to catch lightning in a bottle. In his quest to preserve culture, he has been thrown out of a wedding where he was scheduled to perform, he and other members of Ndere Troupe were scrapped off the programme list at a presidential event, and he was dubbed the devil by a reverend.
The Africa he seeks to show the world is one many cannot quite fathom. It is in sharp contrast with the images of desperation, hunger, poverty and a hopeless generation that can only pass on the culture of dependence.
“But we are blessed. Beautiful culture, lovely weather,” he says. “When my mother cooks, she always takes into account extra people who may visit unannounced. She can do this because everything in Africa is in abundance.”
Stephen Rwangyezi preaches African culture with conviction. (Pic: Samson Baranga)
Rwangyezi still vividly remembers the day he was called the devil. He tells the story with sad eyes. That day, he was attending the wedding of one of one of his mentees who once performed with Ndere Troupe. Coming from an indigent family and going through primary school only because of his ability to play the flute, Rwangyezi has a special relationship with the young people he trains. He selects those with underprivileged backgrounds and nurtures them in African performance while paying for their education in the best schools in the country. He says they are like sons and daughters to him.
So on this day when he was called the devil, he was really a father attending the wedding of one of his daughters. When she said “I do”, Rwangyezi played African drums that infuriated the reverend.
“Where is that devilish sound coming from?” he asked.
When her husband, an army man, said “I do”, his team played the brass band and the reverend said: “Now that is music!”
A deeply hurtful experience, no doubt. But Rwangyezi says it is hard to blame people like the reverend who preach the gospel of “the colonial church”, for Africa is suffering under cultural enslavement and the continent needs a new liberation. To Rwangyezi, cultural enslavement is even more dangerous than colonialism and slavery because it is perpetrated by African leaders.
“If the World Bank says it will not fund music on the curriculum, the announcement is made by our president. We are blind to the real forces behind.”
Rwangyezi’s mission is to change the notion that all things African are evil, backward and pagan. He has come a long way from 1984 – when he would perform for an audience of three – to travelling the world and being the face of Ugandan cultural music. He laments that Africans are fast adopting the ways of the west – western dress, western religion and western food – without stopping to think about whether or not it is good for them. On the other hand, Rwangyezi says, the western world is doing all it can to preserve its culture because they know how important cultural identity and pride is.
“Our children will never forgive us when they grow up and go to the diaspora and realise that they have no identity,” he says. “We are still slaves in our own land. We are growing tobacco but can you eat tobacco if there is famine? We grow it because the colonialists said so. We must think of ways to find ourselves again.”
An Africa with dilapidated museums, where local languages are forbidden in schools, culture and history is undocumented. An Africa where the young think success means long hair weaves and American SUVs. Rwangyezi is determined to rewrite this script.
“African music was only performed in the dark, now we are putting it on a bigger stage for the world to see,” he says. “We want to show that you can be educated and still appreciate culture. We are documenting African culture so that a Chinese can one day prepare kwon kal [millet bread] with the recipes we leave behind. So that you can know the name and origin of that African hairstyle you have.” He looks at my short, twisted nappy hair.
(Pic: Ndere.com)
Rwangyezi believes that teaching culture to the young is the key to transforming Africa.
“I saw my father not being as happy as he would have liked to be, restricted by civilisation,” he says of his upbringing. His father despised African music but his other relatives loved it. They encouraged him to pursue his passion and taught him African culture.
“I saw genuine happiness among these ‘backward’ and ‘primitive’ people. I saw fantastic music but I only saw it in the night. African music was never nurtured and allowed to grow in spite of its beauty,” he says nostalgically.
He preaches African culture with conviction, even if he did get married in a church. He laughs a little when I point this out, saying: “Culture is dynamic. I am wearing a suit even though I am a cultural practitioner.”
As our afternoon together comes to a close, a woman – one of his employees – approaches him, kneels down and whispers something. In some cultures in Uganda, women must kneel when speaking to elders and men. I ask him if he is not concerned about culture being on a collision course with human rights ideals like women equality, pointing out the African culture has been a mask for many evils like female genital mutilation and domestic violence.
“I would never support FGM or violence,” he says. “But when it comes to kneeling, it does not mean that the woman is inferior. Japanese are a world power, but don’t they bow? It is their identity. Culture grows and must be interpreted progressively.”
To Rwangyezi, the real threat to African culture is lack of government commitment and media that have failed to amplify cultural voices.
The African version of the popular US television series Desperate Housewives is set to hit screens next year.
Nigeria’s EbonyLife TV and Disney Media Distribution EMEA recently announced that they will co-produce Desperate Housewives Africa, which will be filmed at Adiva Estates, an upmarket gated community outside Lagos that is similar to the US show’s iconic Wisteria Lane.
Viewers can expect similar dramatic plot twists, scandal and romance – but with an ‘African soul’. Mo Abudu, CEO and executive chair of EbonyLife TV said: “We will work to ensure parity with the original storyline and production values that have characterised the global series, without compromising on that very important African essence.”
The Nigerian series will feature an African cast of new and established actors, who will be dressed by local fashion designers. The sets will be furnished with items from Nigerian interior decorators.
The original Desperate Housewives is broadcast in more than 200 territories around the world. Versions of it have been produced for audiences in Turkey, Argentina, Columbia, Brazil – and now Africa.
The cast of ‘Desperate Housewives’ take the stage at the 60th annual Primetime Emmy Awards in Los Angeles on September 21 2008. (Pic: Reuters)
The joke in our house goes that my husband drove over 14 500km on a scooter through Africa while I spent that 14 500km telling him how to drive. Not quite true, but not quite false either. There were days when I just sat on the back of our 150cc motorbike, lost somewhere in Zambia or Sudan, without saying a word.
Packing up your life and cutting all the strings that tie you to society is much easier said than done. It is only when you attempt it that you realise just how many things are pinning you down. Banks, cellphones, rent, vehicles, jobs, debit orders, credit cards, medical aid, pensions, doctors and insurance. Everyday things that most of Africa spent their days without. Something we would learn along the way from Pretoria to the pyramids is how little you need to be happy if you just learn to be content. And how, when situations are really bad, the smallest things, can create immense joy. Like an old, dirty bed after sleeping on the floor for weeks on end or a piece of dodgy-looking goat’s meat, served in a dirty plate, after you’ve spent the last 36 hours lost in the desert without food. But I’m jumping the gun here.
Strapped for cash and desperate to explore the rest of our continent, we devised a plan towards the end of 2011. Cash everything in, including our pension funds, savings and most of the money we would have used on our wedding, quit our jobs – I’m a social media manager, Guillaume is an engineer – and travel through Africa. It sounds super romantic, which is probably why we chose to do it for our honeymoon, but let me tell you, there was very little honey during the 153 moons we spent on the road. We could not afford a 4×4 or even just a semi-decent vehicle, which is why we opted for the little motorbike standing in our front yard. It was cheap, it was there and it was absolutely ridiculous – that includes the bright orange coat of paint it was given. But it could average a speed of 75km/h and my husband knew how to drive it so it seemed like a plausible idea. Having finally gotten rid of all those things tying us down, we tied the knot on January 21 2012 during a very small, informal ceremony in the Kruger National Park, packed a single backpack and drove off into the sunset nine days later … aiming “north in general”.
Outriding elephants in Botswana was one of many nerve-wracking experiences.
A trans-African journey can be done in one of two ways: with a lot of planning and preparation, or the way we did it – the “fake it till you make it” way. We suggest you opt for the first. We aren’t total fools though and did do some planning. We read a few travel guides, scanned a map, got the necessary visas and learned how to do first aid but apart from that we had only the bare necessities and decided to just “let the journey guide us” – from South Africa through Botswana, the Caprivi strip (now called the Zambezi Region) in Namibia, parts of Zimbabwe, Zambia, Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, Ethiopia, Sudan and eventually Egypt.
The picturesque, wet and cold Ethiopian highlands on the way to the city of Bahir Dar.
In the end, it turned out, it was the locals and not so much the journey that guided us. Without a map we got lost often so we’d find our way from place to place and country to country by asking locals for directions. Things get strange when you stand in front of a Masai warrior next to the ‘highway’ in Tanzania, point in a direction and ask, “Kenya?”. Often we would get to the next town after having “turned left at the big tree on the right before following the long, winding road and after spotting the little house, turned right and drove until we saw town” It was fun, at times.
Most days were tedious. We’d be on a bike from early morning to late afternoon. A bike that broke down a lot, sometimes up to four times a day. There were lots of obstacles like potholes, thunderstorms, running out of petrol, and going without food for 10 hours and a mere 200km after our departure point. But it was worth it.
Down and out at the border between Tanzania and Kenya after 10 hours of driving, a crash, three breakdowns and no food.
We just had look around us to fall in love with Africa all over again. Greeting shepherds walking with their cattle in Ethiopia’s highlands, almost hidden in the thick mist left by the passing rains. Stopping to watch a road race between competing schools on what is considered the main ‘highway’ between Rwanda and Tanzania, cheering with the crowd as the children finish their race, some barefoot, some wearing mismatched shoes, but all smiling the biggest smiles you’ve ever seen. Spending an hour with the magnificent mountain gorillas in Uganda. And if you drive for long enough, Africa rewards you with her unimaginable natural beauty too. Like when the clouds open for just long enough to reveal Mount Kilimanjaro watching over the landscape below her, or when the sun sets over the Meroe Pyramids in Sudan and all you hear is the silence of the desert echoing through the dunes.
Camping in the Nubian desert between Khartoum and Atbara in Sudan.
We cried at the mass graves in Rwanda, and spent time in villages where the possessions of all the residents put together was worth just a little more than our bike. Yes, we were robbed once, lied to at times and were witnesses to some of the cruel realities of life in much of Africa. But most people we met were much more eager to share their stories of triumph and happiness while boasting about how beautiful their continent is, than focus on their suffering.
A local shows off one of his crafts in Bagamoyo, Tanzania.
Cutting those strings and driving from South Africa to Cairo turned out to be so much more than what we bargained for, but the best thing we did was to rely on others to make it there. Every direction given by someone we met, whether right or wrong, was a friend made, a new adventure and a discovery of an African road less travelled. When we returned home in August 2012, we knew we’d had one of the biggest privileges in life – to discover Africa.
And our beloved but temperamental bike? At the end of our journey, we gave it to a friend we made on the border between Sudan and Egypt.
Admiring the Great Sphinx of Giza. Tired, dirty but so happy to be at our final destination!
Dorette de Swardt lives in Port Elizabeth with her husband Guilllaume in a home that’s a recent upgrade from a two-man tent and self-inflatable mattresses that don’t inflate.
