“Man’s worst sin is, he does too much good. Who, then, dares to be half so kind again?” William Shakespeare’s reflection in Timon of Athens speaks to a tragedy that continues to resonate across generations.
For the purpose of this piece, one might be forgiven for thinking Shakespeare was referring to the Banyarwanda who supported the liberation war that brought President Yoweri Museveni to power. (Muganga has drawn his sword, so will Tayebwa pick a shield or a spear? – Nile Post, 3rd June 2026)
Why?
The former President would not have come to power, nor would Uganda have enjoyed relative peace and stability over the last forty years, had the Banyarwanda not paid for those “gains” with their sweat, tears, and blood.
One only needs to recall key figures such as Fred Rwigyema (RIP), Gen Faustin Nyamwasa, and others among the Banyarwanda commanders who played central roles in the liberation struggle. They led from the front, and many of their comrades followed, fighting through the bush war that eventually led to the capture of Kampala in 1986.
Many of those who died in that war were buried in Luwero, where their remains now rest in what has become a painful reminder of sacrifice. It is a sacrifice that, to some, now appears to have been forgotten or poorly honoured by successive governments.
Today, some descendants of those who fought and died in that struggle feel alienated, even as individuals who once served in the opposing forces of that era now occupy positions of authority in the same system.
This raises a troubling contradiction. The same community that contributed significantly to the liberation struggle is, in some instances, now treated with suspicion in public life.
The Banyarwanda experience reflects Shakespeare’s warning that “man’s worst sin is, he does too much good. Who, then, dares to be half so kind again?”
It is difficult to imagine that those who fought in the bush war would make the same sacrifices again under current perceptions of how they are treated in public life.
Consider, for instance, the reported decision by Parliament’s Appointments Committee, chaired by Deputy Speaker Thomas Tayebwa, to block the nomination of Dr Lawrence Muganga for appointment as State Minister for Internal Affairs. The controversy surrounding the matter has raised questions about whether ethnicity played any role in the scrutiny of his nomination.
If that is the case, it presents a worrying irony: a community once celebrated as liberators now allegedly viewed through a lens of suspicion in national appointments.
President Museveni, who has often spoken about unity and national identity, may need to reflect deeply on this contradiction.
Several corrective measures are often suggested in such debates, including:
- Establishing a dedicated memorial at Kololo or another national site in honour of all those who died in the liberation war, including Banyarwanda fighters.
- Clarifying, through constitutional or legal reform, the place of communities such as the Banyarwanda within Uganda’s national identity framework.
- Reviewing legal restrictions that affect Ugandans with dual citizenship in relation to public service eligibility.
- Ensuring that public institutions, including Parliament’s Appointments Committee, uphold non-discriminatory standards in all vetting processes.
In comparative terms, countries such as the United Kingdom, from which Uganda inherited aspects of its administrative and legal systems, allow citizens of Commonwealth countries significant participation in public life, including eligibility for elective office and public service roles.
Against this background, the question arises: should Uganda not also reflect on how inclusive its systems are for all citizens, regardless of origin?
Ultimately, the choice before President Museveni is a simple one: whether to openly affirm the contributions of all who fought for Uganda’s liberation, including the Banyarwanda, or allow perceptions of exclusion to persist.
I stand with the Banyarwanda. My late cousin, Dan Obote, was married to Jane, a Munyarwanda woman remembered for her kindness and dignity. She cared for him until his last days and ensured that even members of President Milton Obote’s family were treated with respect during the transition of power in 1986.
This is not just about one community. Today it may be the Banyarwanda; tomorrow it could be another group. Uganda must guard against narrowing national identity into exclusion.
I rest my case.