They were united by love, marriage, and the terrible consequences of Uganda’s violent politics.
Today, Mama Miria remains a co-victim of what I consider a baseless propaganda war aimed at erasing former President Obote’s record as the man who led Uganda to independence from British rule.
For years, critics have described Obote as an armed dictator and mass murderer.
The uncomfortable truth, privately known in many quarters, is that Obote never held a gun in his entire life, nor did he seize power through armed struggle. Rather, he won power democratically in 1962 at the age of 37.
Many world leaders of that era would testify to this fact.
In her book My Life, former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir described Obote as a “level-headed young man”.
Just as George Washington, Jomo Kenyatta and Julius Nyerere are recognised as founding presidents of the United States, Kenya and Tanzania respectively, Obote remains the founding president of the Republic of Uganda.
And just as Martha Dandridge Washington, Mama Ngina Kenyatta and Maria Nyerere are remembered as women who stood alongside the founders of their nations, Maria Kalule Obote remains Uganda’s first First Lady and a co-founder of the republic.
President Museveni’s Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995 recognises the republic established after independence. Sam Mayanja, the Attorney General, has also described Obote’s 1966 Republican Constitution as a “successful revolution”.
Granted, Maria Kalule enjoyed the diplomatic privileges that came with being First Lady and met some of the world’s most influential figures, including Pope Paul VI, who visited Uganda on July 31, 1969.
However, Uganda’s turbulent politics subjected her to years of suffering.
She survived two violent military coups that forced her and her young family into exile twice. The upheavals disrupted her children’s education and claimed the lives of several relatives from both her family and that of her husband.
Obote’s younger brother, Michael Engena, was among the first victims, followed by Mama Miria’s own brother.
Today, the resilient Mama Miria is not only a respected but often unsung heroine — Uganda’s first First Lady. She is also, for all practical purposes, the leader of the Oyima clan.
A great honour
Her role as clan leader provided the backdrop for my recent visit: “My Day With Mama Miria Kalule Obote at 90 But Looks 60.”
I felt deeply honoured when she asked me to invite a few friends to join her for dinner at her Kololo residence.
It was Sunday, July 12, 2026, six days before her 90th birthday, when we arrived.
The first thing I noticed was a message written on the wall near the entrance:
“Feel at home.”
The words were also written in Luganda and Lunyoro.
But nothing had prepared me for the surprises Mama Miria had in store.
She was the picture of simplicity and humility, personally standing at the door to welcome us.
Despite recent health challenges, she looked more like someone in her late fifties than a woman approaching her 90th birthday.
William Shakespeare wrote, “With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come” in The Merchant of Venice. But there was hardly a trace of wrinkles on Mama Miria’s face whenever she smiled — which she did often — or when she made a serious point.
Speaking softly but clearly, she introduced me to her sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren who were present.
Two grandchildren, Apollo and Ben, sat on my lap while holding their pancakes.
She led us to the dinner table and asked me to sit beside her, on her right. My cousin Margaret Odur Oryiang and her husband Patrick Oryiang sat immediately to my right.
She asked someone to serve me some of her selected wine.
When I told her I did not drink, she jokingly told the guests that I was unfortunate because I had no excuse to lie — meaning that those who drink often blame alcohol for their mistakes.
Another guest, Gloria Baseki Rugadya from Bunyoro, arrived with a secret weapon hidden in her heart — love.
She made Mama Miria’s evening unforgettable.
After seeking permission, Gloria walked across the red-carpeted floor, knelt near Mama Miria and sang: “Happy birthday Mama Miria… you look like an angel.”
Mama Miria responded by tapping her left hand in rhythm with the song.
The two looked like a grandmother and granddaughter who had reunited after many years.
Auntie Jane Dan Obote and Auntie Florence Akora joined others in applauding the touching moment.
The absence of my favourite cousin, Feddie Ben Odur-Adoko, who had organised the event, was deeply felt. Her sisters — Tai Odur, Dr Alaba Odur and Joan Ayo Olwa Paco-Otto — as well as their brother Michael, were also unable to attend.
Thankfully, Helen Awat Loi, daughter of Milton Obote’s younger brother, travelled with me from Akokoro and helped fill the gap.
The evening unfolded so beautifully that, by the time it ended, Mama Miria was calling me “my son” or “Sam”, while I was calling her “Mama”.
At that moment, I gathered courage to ask her: “Mama, which one was the President’s favourite seat?”
With a smile mixed with sadness, she pointed to a chair immediately on her left.
Overwhelmed with emotion, I asked for permission to leave, mindful of her bedtime.
But she politely corrected me:
“I normally go to bed after midnight.”
I smiled and waited another 30 minutes before leaving to reflect on what I had witnessed and heard from Mama Miria.
Every event has a genesis and a backdrop.
The dinner was about the biblical story of the “Lost Sheep” from Luke 15:4-6.
A young man, Joshua Ngogtos, read the passage after Gloria chose to sing instead:
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?”
For me, I had been the lost sheep — someone who had drifted away from the Oyima clan while wandering through the wilderness of local and international politics.
Mama Miria was the shepherd who left the ninety-nine sheep in the open country and searched until she found me.
Congratulations and happy 90th birthday, Mama.
I wish you a long and happy life for the sake of your children, grandchildren, the Blasio Kalule and Milton Obote families, and the wider clan.
The Republic of Uganda, which you helped build, still needs your wisdom and experience.