Nyege Nyege Fest 4.4//Uganda
What happened when I took a group of EMPOWERED Ugandan youth, to a music festival, to talk about periods.
There was excitement, I was unsure what I was about to step into but I was rolling with it. Off we went to the ticket office to get our wristbands sorted.
It was chaos.
As we followed the road up to the entrance, we joined the movement of people queuing to get in. Our contact for all of this suddenly appeared behind us and we spoke with him whilst bodies were filtered in. A little further on and we see one of the young people who used to be involved in menstraul education years before, grown up and living in the city now. The bag checks allowed our most creative member to enter with the paints he had carried from the village to decorate the clay birds he had been making. He could sell them for a higher profit margin, still just £1.
The last hurdle before we made it to our destination was getting the actual wristbands from the guest list tent. And it tested all of our patience. Some of the names weren’t showing up on the spreadsheet, there was more than one spreadsheet now, and it was opening night - of course it wasn’t straight forward. Staying calm paid off. We managed to get everyone sorted.
We’re in.
The venue was right by the source of the Nile. As we entered we were greeted by a group performance, head to toe in traditional dress - dancing, signing, drumming, somersaults. We continued walking, past the ferris wheel - it cost a ridiculous amount. There were multiple stages and areas all sponsored by the drinks companies; huge screens advertising bottles of beer and vodka, this was a different Uganda to the one I knew. And everything was so expensive; plenty of bars and street food but all at muzungu prices.
We walked around taking in the sights, Kabynge wondered off to make sales would find his way back to us again. I now try to figure out if I’m responsible for the group - are we here as peers or? As long as we make it all back to Sarah’s tonight! There’s a giddiness about us, excitement, it’s time to party. We dance by the main stage, a circle forms and I find myself the back up dancer for members of the circle to perform with. What on earth is happening? This is amazing. What ever ‘professional hat’ I had left on had now come off, we were having a shared experience and celebrating the success of this idea seed making taking us this far.
I LOVE FESTIVALS.
I enjoy listening to music, watching performers, and dancing.
And I also love the part of the night when it’s time to go home.
Sarah wanted to stay out and soak up the vibes most nights. One night we had lost the boys and Sarah sent me bike with a driver she trusted. It wasn’t safe for a muzungu to go the short way so I ride on the back of this motorbike around the city back home questioning what I would do if I got into trouble now. I didn’t sort out a sim card because as long as I was with someone they could hotspot me, so I had no data, I may had a lot of cash on me because I hadn’t had a chance to distribute this among the team, and apart from being in Jinja almost a decade before - I didn’t know my way around. But it was fine. I made it back to Sarah’s compound, I found the boys around the tents and after watching the moon for a bit before going to bed. The boda driver apparently would have been more scared of me than I would be of him, but it got me asking why they wasn’t female drivers. There are in the bigger cities, seems like a gap in the market but patriarchy is rife and in this mans world it isn’t womanly to ride a boda.
The next morning there are cows grazing the compound and I call the team together for a meeting. We’ve got another couple of days of the festival and I think it would be wise to check-in and see what the vibe is. We have another young person joining us who is experienced in selling reusable pads. Day turns tonight, few people pass us by and the heavens open. Downpour. We make our way back to the festival but we don’t stay long, people are tired and it’s more of the same - overpriced delights, capitalism and bright lights.
It was a long walk back up the street to get to the boda taxis. We were heading back into the city to get some dinner, for a normal price. Something that would have been around 50p was closer to £10, they were right, we could get it cheaper where locals go. We headed to a bar some of the boxers had worked at as bouncers. I sit on a bench whilst the boys negotiate food with Aunty. Next to me a group of children play with a sheet of cardboard, maybe 8 or 10 of them, that’s their bed for tonight.
What a day.
I don’t know if the team thought any money left over they could keep. Maybe? We went over budget in the end, even with the free festival tickets, always the way. The reality is, that for many of my friends living in Uganda, they are living pay cheque to pay cheque. What does that mean when they’re not working?
Or when they’re employer never paid them?
Or when they have to pay for school?
Or have parents and siblings to support?
Or they’re a single mother and they have to pay their child’s school fees?
You believe that there will be more. You have to have faith. Hope.
How are you to afford rice or chapati, even something so cheap?
And data for your phone?
Or a phone to stay connected and look for work?
Mobile money. Instead of cash points, the streets are filled with vendors sat under umbrellas for mobile money. There are banks as well but the act of sending and receiving money to your mobile number has made it easy to ask loved ones for a bit of support from time to time. And things are cheap. Rent is cheap. Food is cheap. However, employment options are low, so you take what you can get even if it means being treated poorly by a manager, not actually having enough to live on and it being something you don’t actually want to do.
More than half of Uganda’s population is under 30, with about 10 million young people not working, studying, or training. Many do unpaid or informal family work, which usually has no job security, benefits, fair pay, or chances to improve. Young women are especially affected, often leading to early marriage, teenage pregnancy, and poverty that passes between generations.
Many women ‘working’ are unpaid family helpers or earn little in informal jobs like farming, housework, or small trading, often due to cultural expectations or childcare duties. Uganda has one of Africa’s highest rates of teenage pregnancy, with about 25% of girls aged 15-19 affected. Girls in rural areas are three times more likely to get pregnant than those in wealthier areas.
Lack of opportunities and school dropout leave many girls idle and at risk. Without education or jobs, early marriage or sex for money may seem like the only options. Girls out of school and work are more likely to get pregnant early, often by accident. Once a girl becomes a mother, her chances of continuing school or finding a good job drop sharply. Teenage mothers face stigma, childcare challenges, and limited freedom, making it hard to return to training or work. This keeps many stuck in informal jobs and poverty.
Is this due to a limited access to sexual and reproductive health education and services in the country? Partly, but take a walk around most towns and cities and you will find incentivised projects working on the topic like the one that I first went out with. What did I learn from that? That the mentioning of condoms in school is illegal. And education outside of school is often abstinence based and informed by religion.
+256 Youth Platform felt radical because in many ways they are. Young men teaching about menstruation, how could they? The thing is, for things to improve there needs to be a holistic approach. Informed, comprehensive education is one thing but if you return to your family home or your religious neighbourhood using Gods name to put the fear of God into children (text written outside schools, like it’s a good things); if being a girl means you are forbidden to wear trousers or ride a bike - then how can these young people expect brighter futures filled with opportunities?
Ever since I first visited Rwanda, when I was 17 and introduced to the sex workers who were disowned by their families, or met the teenage mothers unable to return to school but the baby daddies were no where to be seen, when I learnt that an abortion had a £50+ price tag - a fire has been burning inside of me.
This is why I continue to support friends in Uganda and share their stories. But I can’t do it alone. This is why I will always invite you to donate funds that go some way towards supporting young people, particularly young women because if we are in a position that we can, then we must.
If you would like to support the fabulous people I know and their community please consider making a donation via this link.
100% of donations (minus the fees from Paypal), will go directly to those on the ground where it is needed most.
That could be food, medical, menstrual products, or school fees.
Thank you for you support.
