Tag Archive | Uganda

A luta continua

“Until the Struggle is Won” is a new choral anthem I wrote to honor the struggle of LGBTI persons in Uganda. The words are informed by my years of advocacy alongside LGBTI Ugandans—and shaped in particular by the friendships I made during my 2013 trip to Uganda. These verses are peopled with faces I know and love. (NOTE: you’ll find a PDF of lyrics here and you can WATCH the world premiere here.)

I’m a decent enough poet—but thoroughly bereft of musical aptitude. So typically I select a tune I know well and then weave words to rest on that melody. In this case I was commissioned to write the text and then my lyrics were turned over to Craig Carnahan, a celebrated Minnesota choral composer, who crafted a five-part choral score to really showcase the words. I’ve seen the score, but I can’t “hear” the notes on the page at all—I only see the intricate complexity. So I cannot wait to hear it performed—which it will be on April 9, 2016!

“Until the Struggle is Won” will have its world premiere by The Singers, in concert under the direction of Matthew Culloton, in Sundin Music Hall, Hamline University, April 9, 7:30pm. The Singers’ Composers Lab Choral Concert blends brand new works from Twin Cities composers with pieces premiered by The Singers over the past 11 seasons. My anthem will be performed right before intermission, during which the audience will be encouraged to make donations to The Uganda Project, a ministry of my church that partners with grassroots organizations in Uganda seeking immediate safety, communal empowerment, and social justice for Uganda’s LGBTI people.

Los Angeles music critic Jim Svejda, host of public radio’s The Record Shelf calls The Singers “awe-inspiring … easily one of the best choral ensembles in America, if not the entire world.”

COMPOSERS LAB: BRINGING SCORES TO LIFE – Saturday, April 9, 7:30pm – Sundin Music Hall, Hamline University. General Admission tickets: $21 in advance (online at www.singersmca.org) or $25 at the door.

Much gratitude goes to my good friend, Leo Treadway, who arranged for this collaboration between Craig Carnahan and myself.

Until the Struggle is Won

Down in the eastern heart of Africa / Where the Nile river starts
There’s a land as pretty as a pearl / And a people bless-ed dark
And when God looked on Uganda land / And proclaimed it “very good”
Well, she destined this diversity / But we’ve not yet understood …

A luta continua, a luta continua, a luta continua, and the struggle— carries on!

Then came the missions and the morals / In the name of Jesus Christ
Bearing “good news” neither good nor new / Yet the people were enticed
Now the fear that spread in Africa / Planted long ago in shame
All too lively now on preachers’ lips / Has set hatred full aflame …

A luta continua, a luta continua, a luta continua, and the struggle— carries on!

Against the vi’lence and oppression / Turned upon your very own
For the exiles now like scattered seeds / Of a future not yet sown
Against the mobs, the threats and beatings / And the papers cast you out
For the countless lives, like sparrows lost / Now in anguished cries we shout:

A luta continua, a luta continua, a luta continua, and the struggle— carries on!

Where it calls for courage just to be / Endless spirit just to cope
May your leaders rich with wisdom be / As a flowing spring of hope
May the many bless-ed martyred ones / Be not silenced by their death.
Lift their voices up, and join with yours / And their mem’ries fill your breath

A luta continua, a luta continua, a luta continua, and the struggle— carries on!

From beneath these ruins, rocks and stones / May “Hosannas” ring and roam
The day dawn soon, O Uganda land / When you call your Kuchus home
Linking arms and lives o’er continents / We are pledged to join your strife:
For we’ve heard that God is with you here / So we wish to share your life

A luta continua, a luta continu, a luta continua, until the struggle is won!

text by David R. Weiss
music by Craig Carnahan

Notes:

Refrain: A luta continua (Ah loo–tah con-tin–oo-ah – Portuguese: “the struggle continues”) was the rallying cry during Mozambiques’s war for independence. It became a popular cry in the Ugandan LGBTI community after David Kato’s murder in 2011.

Verse 1: Uganda’s nickname is “the pearl of Africa”; I intentionally name the people “bless-ed dark.”

Verse 2: The seeds of homophobia in Uganda (as throughout Africa) were planted by Western missionaries, but most recently inflamed by a handful of U.S. evangelicals—particularly Scott Lively—linked to the infamous 2009 “Kill the gays” bill. Hence, “lively now on preachers’ lips.”

Verse 3: Many of Uganda’s leading LGBTI activists have fled into exile for their own safety. Several tabloid papers have publically outed LGBTI persons. On sparrows, see Matthew 10:29 | Luke 12:6-7.

Verse 4: As in every struggle for justice, cross-generational inspiration and solidarity is paramount.

Verse 5: On rocks and stones, see Luke 19:38-40. Kuchu (Koo-choo – origin uncertain) is the word chosen by Ugandan’s LGBTI community to name themselves. Roughly synonymous with “queer,” (although, unlike “queer” it seems not to have had a prior negative meaning in the language in general) it encompasses the entire range of LGBTI identities under a single term. On “For we’ve heard …” see Zechariah 8:23.

Unfinished Business: Reuniting a Family

Jul13

This blog post is an invitation to support my new GoFundMe campaign:
Unfinished Business: Reuniting a Family

In the fall of 2014 many of you joined me securing the safety of a friend of mine, “Sophia.” Together we raised the funds to fly her from Uganda to Germany where she has applied for asylum because of her efforts as an Ally on behalf of LGBT persons in Uganda. Her case is now pending—and will likely not be decided for more than a year. (You can find more about that GoFundMe campaign — which is now complete — here.)

I met “Sophia” in 2013 while in Uganda on behalf of Wingspan, my church’s LGBT ministry. Several times during my stay Sophia looked after my safety. Last fall you helped me look after her.

But this was the measure of her fear at the time of her flight: I also met Sophia’s daughter, “Toni” in Uganda. At the time she was just a toddler; now she is a bright little girl. Sophia had to leave Toni behind when she fled the country. And for the past nine months Toni has stayed with Sophia’s mother, growing each day in ways Sophia can only imagine—but cannot see, or hear, or hold.

Until now.

Sophia has recently managed to get a passport for Toni. It seems likely that very soon friends and family in Uganda will manage to get Toni a visa so that she can travel to Germany. “Harriet,” (as in Harriet Tubman!) who is friend of Sophia’s, and well known to Toni, will travel with her as an adult companion. Harriet will return to Uganda alone, and Toni will be reunited with Sophia and be included in her asylum process.

The biggest remaining hurdle is to produce the funds to cover all the expenses for both Toni and Harriet. Plane fare; visas; travel insurance; and miscellaneous expenses. Working with Harriet, we have estimated a total budget of about $4000 to cover everything.

I don’t have that $4000, and my guess is that none of you do either. But TOGETHER … WE do. Whether you can spare $10 or $100, please help me complete this unfinished business and reunite mother and daughter. No gift is too small—or too large! J

I’m counting on each of you to imagine Sophia’s longing for this day. I know as a dad and a grandpa, when I imagine her longing I can barely contain myself. And then I hope you’ll join me in making this longed-for day possible.

THANK YOU.

David

FINE PRINT DETAILS:

Your gift will be tax deductible. So long as you provide your e-mail and/or mailing address during the donation process, once I retrieve the money from GoFundMe and deposit it through my church, I can provide you with a donation receipt.
If you prefer to send me a check, by all means do that. Make it out to “St. Paul-Reformation Lutheran Church” and put “Wingspan-Uganda” on the memo line. Checks work just as well as online gifts (in fact, they bypass the processing fee charged by GoFundMe). Send your check to me: David Weiss, 1359 Blair Ave., St. Paul, MN 55104. I can post checks as offline donations to help track our progress.
If we exceed the goal or $4000 (or if the total expenses are less than this) any extra funds will go directly to Wingspan’s Uganda Project, finding other good work we do in Uganda.

David R. Weiss is the author of To the Tune of a Welcoming God: Lyrical reflections on sexuality, spirituality and the wideness of God’s welcome (2008, Langdon Street Press). A theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, David is committed to doing “public theology” around issues of sexuality, justice, diversity, and peace. He lives in St. Paul and speaks on college campuses and at church and community events. You can reach him at drw59mn@gmail.com and read more at www.ToTheTune.com where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.” He recently published a playfully profound and slyly subversive children’s picture book, When God Was a Little Girl. Learn more at www.WhenGodWasaLittleGirl.com.

Different corners … common dreams

Mar31

Different corners … common dreams
David Weiss, April 1, 2015

“Hey, tell David I saw him in a video clip about his Uganda work—but that’s all I’m saying until I see him in person.” Leo’s cryptic message, passed to me via Margaret, my wife, left me feeling equal measures of curiosity and pride.

Where? When? Who filmed me? How did I not know about this? But alongside these questions, I felt an undeniable twinge of glee. Someone had noticed … me. And I was at least as pleased as I was curious.

It turns out that I appear in a short clip among the “Special Features” on the latest DVD release of Call Me Kuchu, the award-winning documentary about the challenges faced by those fighting for LGBTI rights in Uganda. I am not “featured” per se; but I do appear in a feature devoted to Bishop Christopher Senyonjo’s 2011 American tour, part of his work as a faith ally to LGBTI Ugandans. Wingspan hosted him at an event here in St. Paul, and I served as emcee for that evening.

So there I am, getting a tiny moment in the spotlight because I happen to be next to the person the spotlight is following. Nonetheless, in this long journey toward justice, I am pleased to be seen.

Then, just seven days later, the frivolity of my quiet pleasure hits me hard in the gut and knocks the wind out of me.

I received an email from Moses, my closest friend in Uganda. Moses kept me company daily—transported me safely and provided me countless bits of education—during my trip to Uganda two years ago. A straight man, like myself, he is tireless and nearly fearless in his work with and for LGBTI Ugandans. On this day his message carried a mix of anguish, anger, and fear—for exactly the same reasons that I had felt such quiet pride: being seen.

The BBC has recently used footage from Call Me Kuchu to produce a 50-minute broadcast-friendly version titled Gay in Uganda. It will eventually be available on television worldwide through the BBC. Moses worked as a multi-tasking production assistant for the film. He was a friend to several of the leading activists featured in the filming, including David Kato. Although Moses’ work on Call Me Kuchu was all behind the scenes, in this new BBC version they’ve incorporated some other footage in which Moses appears rather clearly and prominently alongside David Kato outside a Ugandan courtroom.

Kato was killed soon afterwards—his picture had been emblazoned (next to Bishop Christopher’s) on the cover of one of Uganda’s inflammatory newspapers, under the banner headline “Hang Them” for their work in “promoting” homosexuality. At the time of his death, Kato was Uganda’s most publicly gay man. His murder sparked international outcry and put Uganda’s virulently antigay environment on the world’s radar. There is no more highly respected person (now widely regarded as a martyr) to be seen alongside. Unless—like Moses—the work you do as an ally, the job you hold to earn a living, your own personal security, and the safety and well-being of family (a wife and three children) all HINGE on a large measure of anonymity in the public eye … now potentially cast aside by a major network telling an important story.

His fear is all too real. About four years ago, through his close involvement in the Hate No More campaign, a grassroots Ugandan response to the Anti-Homosexuality Bill, Moses was filmed at a press conference in a news clip that aired nationally and repeatedly on Ugandan TV. He lost his job. Friends turned on him, charging that either he was gay himself or that he was promoting abominable behavior by others. Dependent on public transportation, fear stood next to him each day at the bus stop. He had to relocate his family out of concern for their safety. At school both of his children (ages 7 and 11) were attacked by classmates taunting them about their dad. His son smiles today with badly chipped front teeth—the price of Moses being seen.

Moses continued to be a tireless (though at times fearful) ally throughout this time. With Wingspan assistance he purchased a car that provides him with safe transportation and allows him to provide non-public transport as often as possible for those in the Rainbow Fellowship. Four years later, Moses has rebuilt his business, now working for himself and finding ways to occasionally employ LGBT persons. He oversees arrangements for the “sanctuary/safe house” we fund for the Rainbow Fellowship. And his family’s life has returned mostly to normal.

But he knows from painful experience that he does his best work—unseen. Which is why, when two friends called Moses to say they’d seen him on a BBC television show he responded not with curious excitement, but anger, anguish, and fear.

Sure, maybe no one in Uganda will notice. But all it takes is for a few people to recognize his face on the screen, connect it to the man they know around town, and suddenly the members of the Rainbow Fellowship, who count on his unnoticed presence to help tend to their well being, will find their lives become more vulnerable. Not to mention what would likely happen to his family, his work, and his personal life.

I’m not blaming the BBC. Stories must be told—with human faces when possible—in order to move hearts, and ultimately to change policies and laws. I just happen to know this one face particularly well. And the stark contrast between Moses’ response and my own reminds me with forceful humility of the vast differences between the corners of the world we inhabit. Emphasis the world, as in “one and the same.” Different corners with different contexts to be sure. But one world, with common dreams.

So I’m exchanging my quiet pleasure and for restless determination that Moses’ dream—and mine—of a world where no one fears being seen is not simply an idle fancy, but the passionate anticipation of the breaking dawn. We’ll meet you there.