Interview
Maritza on Breaking Continental Barriers with Spoken Word EP ‘Poetry in Motion’
When it comes to spoken word in Uganda, one of the names that you won’t miss is Maritza, a.k.a. Mama KLA. She has left a mark through her words and performances on the industry with works like her thought-provoking 20 Point Program poem, the intro on The Mith’s Ugandan album & the intro to DJ Chapat’s mixes, among others. She has now set her eye on the continent, having won Spoken Word Artist of the Year at the African Podcast & Voice Awards last year and now featuring in the Move Africa campaign by GIZ, the African Union, and Africa NoFilter through poetry. The campaign aims to reshape and enrich African media migration narratives, moving away from the current mainly crisis-centered stories to more balanced depictions.
The Tribe UG chose to explore this theme through a poetry EP titled Poetry in Motion, featuring a collective of Ugandan poets, whom we will be talking to as we lead up to the release of the EP on February 4, 2025. Poetry in Motion was made possible through the support of Africa No Filter, a sponsored project of Rockefeller Philanthropy Advisors, with funding provided by GIZ on behalf of the Government of the Federal Republic of Germany.
In this interview, we delve into the creative process behind the EP, the nuances of spoken word as an art form in Uganda, and the career trajectory of Maritza herself.
Maritza, you’ve been deeply involved in the spoken word scene and are actively trying to make a space for it in music. How did you get involved in the “Move Africa” project and how did that lead to the creation of the “Poetry in Motion” EP?
Maritza: Spoken Word can be misplaced, you know. Sometimes Spoken Word is in the literary community, but then it’s too cool to be in the literary community. Other times, you want to place it in more educational circles, but then sometimes it doesn’t really fit. In hip-hop, though, spoken word has a real place, and I felt that in Uganda, we hadn’t opened the door. Hip-hop and music hadn’t opened the door for spoken word like that. That’s why I’ve really been trying to work with The Tribe—getting together on projects, having conversations, and just putting things together. That’s how Poetry in Motion happened.
Felix found where we could find partners & funding to create a project with spoken word artists that we can attach to The Tribe UG. The art of spoken word is deeply rooted in the culture of hip-hop, because hip-hop has a background in spoken word. Artists like Gil Scott-Heron—though he’s not strictly a hip-hop artist—are spoken word artists, and most of his work is really spoken word.
The main reason I’m here with The Tribe is to push for that: to make space for spoken word in music. When Felix found this opportunity to partner with Africa No Filter, we put our heads together to figure out what we could do and which artists would be best for the project. We looked for artists who have already written socially conscious pieces.
This was the chance to involve Ugandan spoken word artists who are very good at this. There are many, of course—these are just the ones we could access. Off the top of my head, I thought of people like Kabera Angel. Kabera Angel is a soet – a song poet, and she was the first person that came to mind because she’s been making waves in the industry. Another person, who needs no introduction, is Wake 256. Wake is one of our leaders in this business—he’s the godfather, take a bow, salute! Another godfather in this is Isabirye Mitch, who was really a no-brainer. He’s exceptionally good with his play on words and his delivery, and he truly represents where he’s from.
It was important, especially for this conversation, because it was about migration narratives. That’s the real goal: to change the conversation on migration narratives. It’s the kind of topic that makes you ask why we’re fighting these things. This is Africa, so why do we have borders to the point that I have to beg for a Tanzanian visa just to visit my neighbors? It was something that was a no-brainer to contribute to.
So we thought of these artists: Kabera Angel, Wake, Isabirye Mitch, Jason Ntaro, Devis the Poet, Mcnrietta, and myself. That makes eight. Wait, did I miss somebody? I can’t miss anybody. Oh, and then another person—I almost forgot. Mcnrietta usually writes in Luganda, and she’s actually one of the best Luganda poets we have in the country. She writes beautifully, and she did an amazing track with Wake. Those artists came to mind because they have a strong voice, they write beautifully, and this is a narrative they’d love to be part of. We all want to grow as spoken word artists; we want to be international at some point, so joining this project was obvious.
Felix and I got together to figure out which people would be best suited and how to incorporate the themes we were given. Using my spoken word brain, I suggested some themes we could explore in this conversation. We submitted them, they were accepted, and we were able to get funding support from GIZ (on behalf of the Gemany Government), & partner with Africa No Filter & the African Union. So far, we’ve recorded all four tracks—though we’re still editing—and I’m proud of what we have. I think Felix and I chose well, and I’m really happy with what we are doing with it.
Yes, you all have done well. I’ve had a bit of early access to the tracks that’s ready – and it’s really good work. However, do you think the audience is ready for a product like this?
Maritza: We will make you get there. Pardon me—yes, we will make you get there, and that’s the real goal of this project. The thing about audiences is that they’re always ready for something beautiful, something groundbreaking that introduces them to another form of enjoyment. Even hip-hop took convincing, for some people at first, and that’s why it merged with certain genres, brought in R&B, and kept evolving over the decades. That evolution—like how LL Cool J used to rap, or how Jay-Z used to rap before he was Jigga—completely changed and adapted to different audiences.
So the audience might take time to be convinced about the work we’re doing, but when it’s good, and if you pay attention online—especially for artists like Isabirye Mitch and Wake, who have a strong online presence—when the art is top-notch, people have no choice but to pay attention. In fact, they’ll start looking for us (laughs).
I think that’s the hope with this project. If you listen, especially to the track with Wake and Mcnrietta, it doesn’t matter where you’re from or who you are—that track is a vibe. It’s well delivered, with drums and everything packaged so you can’t escape it. That kind of production in spoken word will definitely draw more eyes and attention. The more we package our work to make it easier and more accessible, the larger our audience becomes.
The problem is that spoken word doesn’t always get much investment, so we don’t often see well-produced products. That’s why this opportunity is great, especially with the best spoken word artists represented. We’ll see how we do, but I’m sticking with that idea that we’ll bring people in. It will show that there’s potential, and the art is good, you know, it won’t be negotiable anymore. So we really just have to keep doing this. And the consistency, I know, is what’s going to allow my dream of, you know, having spoken word, to have a proper place in the hip hop culture. That’s what’s going to allow that dream to happen.
The EP’s production is really good. One can definitely tell there was a lot of effort put into it. Who handled that? What were the sessions like?
Maritza: That is all Wake on the track!
So, I think Kabera Angel did play the guitar for her track, and she might play it again because they’re doing a re-record. She’s quite skilled on the guitar. If you’ve seen her TikToks, she’s a vibe, right? Let me tell you, people aren’t going to escape us now that we have someone like Kabera.
I also play the Akogo—the thumb piano—for the “Mother’s Land” track, so we as instrumentalists just contributed and let the producer do his magic. When Wake sat down at that computer—whoo, child—it was incredible. He did beautiful things. I love what he’s done. Even the track that’s being used in the promo was built from scratch while we watched the magic happen!
Our country is lucky to have the kind of multicultural diversity it has. Has the scene given a platform to enough artists from different cultural backgrounds?
Maritza: I’m always on the lookout, and the good thing about being in the poetry space as long as I have is that I’ve rubbed shoulders with some great vernacular writers. We’ve had the Bakiga on stage. There was a guy who was called The Man Eater—I think he was Ugly MC, the Man Eater—and he used to do Lusoga and Luganda as well. Then there’s Mitch, who really kills it with Lusoga, and Wake does it with Lugwere. You have that.
And there’s Mcnrietta. How Mcnrietta made her name is that she doesn’t dabble in English and Luganda; she’s a Luganda poet. I think there’s also Ssebo Lule — these artists fully represent their roots, talking about their experiences in their mother tongue. They don’t speak “city Luganda”; they speak the cultural language. If you’re not from there, some parts might go over your head, but they’ve done a great job showing how you can have a very entertaining track by using the cadences and rhythms of your language. They take advantage of that. If you hear “Webale,” you can hear the flow, the wordplay, the excitement.
I see it as a gift to be able to write like that in your language.
And when you do it in your local language, the audience gets bigger. I’m restricted to English audiences because I can’t write in my mother tongue, yet I speak it pretty decently. But being able to express yourself in your mother tongue is a real gift for those of us who grew up on English. It’s something I want to see more of, and I’m taking it upon myself to learn how to write in my mother tongue. Hopefully, in my older years, I can be that wise poet of the village (laughs).
We have to be deliberate about this because we live in a culture where people don’t have time to teach their kids their language. Many parents themselves don’t know their mother tongue, so it’s really up to the artists.
If you notice in hip-hop lately, even among English-speaking rappers and some singers in the hip-hop scene, they’re now incorporating more of their mother tongue. You see it with Ninja C’s songs last year. She has tracks like “Speak My Language.” Even The Mith last year came out with “Don’t Worry” and introduced something—his audience was like, “Wait, who’s this?” It’s become a deliberate move to represent our roots and remind people that we can express ourselves in our mother tongue. It’s an option we have; we just need to learn it.
So, in a really cool way, all this plays into the theme of what you guys are doing with the project, right? Globalization is happening right before our eyes—in spite of all the chaos surrounding migration. People still want to connect with others from the opposite side of the world. And it’s going to happen—one way or another.
How do we blend with the rest of the world while keeping our identity?
Maritza: I think it starts with what Agenda 2063 is really pushing for. Once the borders within Africa become more blurred—because right now, they’re way too solid—it’ll create room for a more unified identity. You know, it’s still really hard to move freely within Africa. For example, if you go to Kenya and try to get a job, it’s difficult because you’re not Kenyan. Companies there hiring Ugandans have to prove to the government that there’s no Kenyan available for the job. That’s a tough barrier to break. Sure, you can find ways around it, but that’s the current culture.
I feel like once we make the borders less rigid and allow ourselves to move, settle, and work freely in other parts of Africa, we’ll see beautiful things happen. For example, I honestly believe that Zambia and Uganda could blend beautifully. If the borders were more fluid, the cultures would mix seamlessly.
And, you know, these borders weren’t drawn by us; they were imposed during the scramble for Africa. A lot of what defines the continent today was decided without our input. Once we take responsibility for our own development and embrace each other as Africans, we won’t have to worry so much about competing with the rest of the world.
Look at how people outside Africa gravitate toward our culture. Beyoncé, for example, once shifted her entire production team to Africa just to tap into that richness. We are the source of so much inspiration and value. If we do the work for ourselves and each other, we won’t need to chase after the world—they’ll come to us.
There are already Africans in every corner of the world. If we strengthen our connection to those diaspora communities, they’ll stay grounded and connected to home. Right now, it’s a lot of work to even find African talent. Say you’re looking for an artist—you first have to Google their name, search for their work, and dig through layers of obscurity.
But imagine if that work was in plain sight—on mainstream radio, TV, or even TikTok ads. Imagine seeing a spoken word artist promoting a major brand like Stanbic Bank. Once we get to that level, we won’t have to convince anyone about our value. People will naturally gravitate toward African art, culture, and innovation.
This kind of visibility becomes much easier when we accept and uplift one another. That’s really what Agenda 2063 aims for—labor mobility and cultural exchange across Africa. I honestly believe that free movement does more good than harm. It encourages innovation, collaboration, and growth.
I don’t know if by 2063 we’ll have achieved all the goals, but that’s the vision. We can’t become a global powerhouse without first empowering Africa. If you want to be an international star, you’ve got to win over your home first.
I’m one of those people who believe Africa is a country—even if metaphorically speaking. It’s okay to think of us that way because, deep down, we really are one people.
To bring it back to the project, who are we really speaking to here?
Maritza: We’re talking to music fans, we’re talking to poetry fans, we’re talking to hip-hop fans, and then we’re talking to Africans. And the reason I’m excited that they used spoken word for this message is because spoken word allows you to tell stories. You know, like, I think we’re a bit more limited with a song and maybe even a hip-hop track because you have to have the chorus there, and your stanzas also can’t be too long because you lose the audience. So I feel like the best form of art to tell the story, and I guess even push the agenda, is spoken word. So we’re talking to anyone who has ears.
And the reason I’m excited that it’s poets is because poets don’t always have the chance to be on a track. A lot of our work is trackless. We are the track. We are the lyrics. We lose a certain audience because we don’t put music on our tracks, because we don’t add instrumentals. So this has allowed the opportunity to, I guess, reach certain corners of entertainment that spoken word on its own struggles to reach.
And then what I’m hopeful for is that this is just the beginning. You know, once you hear the track “Webale”, you’re going to ask Mcnrietta for all her work. Once you hear “Mother’s Land”, you’re going to search for Mitch, like, “What is this man up to? Does Maritza have more work?” You know, even like how you were asking. You listened to the intro and were like, “We want more.”
The question of inclusivity. How, on the ground, with the small numbers you’ve worked with, are the ratios—male to female—so far?
Maritza: It has to be intentional because I’ve been on teams where, you know, we’re looking for people to perform, and by the end of the list, it’s seven men and one woman (laughs). It really has to be deliberate. And because there are voices like mine in spaces like that, I will always be deliberate about inclusivity.
Not even just male and female. For me, my inclusivity also includes people who write in their mother tongue, people who have a different delivery and still belong to the spoken word community.
What spoken word has faced—since I started doing it in 2012—is gatekeeping. We are gatekept. They keep us outside the gate. Sometimes you also find poetry spaces that are gatekeeping. It’s like us, who are gatekept, gatekeeping others (laughs).
So it’s about being deliberate, about being open and welcoming. Because the truth is, this art has been around for so long that people need direction on how to exist as spoken word artists.
Some of those artists we’ve met—they are also changing the status quo for their entertainment scenes. Because now you have to let people know this is an entertainment form, this is a way to communicate, this is a way to cause civic change or be part of the conversation.
So it has to be deliberate for every individual, because this art has been an upcoming art form for so long.
You appear on The Mith’s album—on the intro—and did amazingly. Do we hope to see a Maritza full-blown album or a body of work of that magnitude? Because what you’re writing is basically rap. You really do have an actual rapper in you.
Maritza: I do have an actual rapper in me. I’m a spoken word artist who writes with the mind of a rapper. Some of my inspirations include Kendrick Lamar and Lil Wayne. I love the way they play with words, and I bring a lot of that into my own writing.
I actually have albums already written—three of them, in fact, over the last two years. I’m trying to figure out how to put them into a cohesive album. Spoken word can be tricky to package, especially if it’s an album with no instrumentals. That can be harder to place on streaming platforms like Spotify. So for that particular album, I recorded a visual piece—basically a live performance set. It’s fully done and just waiting to be released this year.
So I think I’ve now also entered, like, the mind of an artist. Because before, when I was in corporate culture, I really operated on execute release, execute release. But I’ve learned the way artists work is they can have like, one album, and they’re working on it for two years, and I never understood what that was until I joined them (laughs), and now I’m here with my albums that I have had for two years. I’m trying to package this so people don’t overlook it. My style of writing requires people to see me perform, which makes it harder to package like a regular music track. Spoken word is a very visual experience. Hence the live performance.
I’m also planning to record a full album for Spotify, Apple Music, and Tidal, but it all needs funding. However, you can work around some of those costs. So far, I haven’t had to spend too much, because I can swap services for production. The main challenge is figuring out how to exist as a spoken word artist and package the work in ways that preserve the visual side of the performance. If you’ve seen Kabera Angel on TikTok, she’ll do a vlog-style video with poetry over it. That’s a form of digital poetry. We need many creative ways to deliver that visual aspect of spoken word.
So yes, I do have bodies of work. Please wait for me, support me, and keep me in your prayers. When we release, I hope you’ll subscribe and spread the word.