The sound of a flute floats towards five young men in the 1,000-seat Bidi Bidi Performing Arts Centre theatre in Uganda – the country that hosts the highest number of refugees in Africa. The music carries past them to the shrubs that surround the circular majestic building and the neighbours going about their lives, the more than 250,000 refugees who live in the 250 sq km Bidi Bidi refugee settlement, the largest refugee camp in Africa.
The young men – gathered for a chance to play a musical instrument or record music – welcome visitors with the awkward smile of youth. They are seated under the oldest fig tree, where the dream of building a place for the creative young people of Bidi Bidi to commune and nurture their talents was born.
“People always gathered under this tree to sing and dance,” says Edward Byemba, a refugee from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) who moved to Uganda seven years ago and now teaches music at the centre. “This tree represents the place that sheltered us until we grew and built the centre.”
His students nod in agreement as they look around the building, construction of which began in 2022, with enduring awe. Ceaser Godfrey, 21, jumps in with a confession.
“I used to be a headache to my community. I used to get into fights, take alcohol, smoke cigarettes and other things,” he says, and the cross hovering over his white Real Madrid jersey gleams in agreement as it catches the light from the glass bottles fixed in the ceiling to filter the sunlight in. “People laughed at me, and I was unhappy.”
About 75% of the 1.7 million refugees in Uganda are women and children and about 25% are aged 15 to 24. An estimated 53% of the entire refugee population is under 18 years old.
Uganda has an open-door refugee policy. Most of the refugees are from South Sudan, DRC, Somalia, Burundi and Sudan. Refugees in the east African country move and work freely and can access social services, such as education and health. Ugandans and refugees live side by side, with some families sheltering new arrivals for weeks as the government resettles them.
Still, many young refugees struggle with the past, sometimes resorting to harmful behaviour, such as violence, drug and alcohol abuse to cope.
“When I was under the influence, I would forget about the blood flow that I had seen. This is what I wanted to do the most – forget,” says Godfrey, who fled South Sudan with his family after his father and mother were killed.
His voice is soft and uncertain as he talks about how alcohol was a disappointing and temporary reprieve. However, when he starts singing his story, it booms alongside the elevating amapiano beat that gets the young men swaying and vibrating their shoulders.
“I am no longer a slave to sin. I am no longer a slave to sin. The old has gone, the new has come. I am free. Free as you can see,” they sing.
Victor Aluonzi, a music teacher at the arts centre, describes it as a place that embraces transformational music and entertainment while boosting talent in the refugee settlement. Run by the Ugandan NGO Sina Loketa and funded by Swiss philanthropist organisation To: Foundation and the Playing for Change Foundation, the centre’s website asserts that “creative expression is a fundamental human right” and that music and dance are tools for healing trauma and bolstering social cohesion.
“People flee conflict and find that even within the settlement there is conflict. They experience conflict within themselves. Conflict with other refugees. Conflict with host communities. We had to find a way to handle all this conflict,” says Aluonzi, who comes from a Ugandan community neighbouring the settlement. “In a refugee settlement, it is important that you reinforce messages of peace and positively impact the society.”
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This is a mission that traditional musician and South Sudanese refugee Moses Modi, 29, takes seriously. “If there is no peace, I will sing about peace. If there is no love, I will sing about love. If there is hatred, I will use bold music to ask why,” he says.
Modi’s soulful folk tunes evoke nostalgia and make him think about the day he will return home to South Sudan.
“When I sing, I think about the future. We, the youth will change a lot of things – not with guns but with all the things that we have learned in Uganda. We shall return to South Sudan changed because in the settlement we are not fighting. In the settlement we are happy, normal boys. Our parents may fight but we, the youth, are not fighting.”
When he is not at the arts centre or on stage performing, Modi, a trained chef, makes rolex, a Ugandan wrap of eggs and tomatoes sold as street food. He says he is working to rewrite his country’s story so that one day another 20-year-old boy will not take his potatoes to sell in the market only to find the people there scattered and a mother, father and their child lying in a pool of blood.
“The day I saw those three bodies, I knew I would be next. I told my parents that we had to run to Uganda where there is peace,” Modi says. “I joined Bidi Bidi arts centre because music is a universal language. Instead of fighting, we have dance competitions. People show off their culture and they are happy. We can cause change and be happy.”
The hope is that in 10 years’ time the people of Bidi Bidi will have moved past the USAid freeze and the ominous uncertainty hovering over the settlement will have melted – replaced with the return of the happy buzz of life and the markets that spring up on the days when the World Food Programme gives cash assistance to the most vulnerable refugees. During the rainy season, people will be able to watch water slide off the arts centre’s funnel-like roof, slithering in a silver stream into the black stones that provide a natural filter and making its way to the 200,000-litre underground tank that supplies water to refugees and Ugandans.
“It is not just about the music,” Aluonzi says. “We talk about playing for change because we work towards all kinds of transformations – economic transformations, united communities, less violence and more healing.”
