When Robinah Nabbanja was announced as Prime Minister, I was on the news set at NBS Television, reading the new cabinet list live on air. Just days earlier, someone eager for me to leave the station for a job in the Office of the President—a move I had strong reservations about then and now, for many reasons—had hinted that the Prime Minister’s name would be the most shocking reveal of all.
This same source, well-placed within the circles of power, had also shared details of how Rebecca Kadaga’s political downfall had been carefully planned and executed.
In Uganda, power is often hidden in the least expected places, making its capture a complex undertaking. In theory, to seize power, one must first know where it resides. But some of the most influential players in Uganda’s political landscape are individuals few would suspect.
My source had confided that many had vied for the Prime Minister’s position, actively campaigning for it, but their efforts were in vain. Even those within the President’s inner circle had been astounded by his choice, yet he remained resolute.
As we read the list live on air that Tuesday evening, a cabinet minister was in the studio, waiting to appear on the weekly Barometer show. I could only imagine the turmoil of one former minister who, despite his hard work, saw his name missing from the new list.
It was clearly going to be a long night for him—two hours of live television while silently grappling with why he had been dropped. But then again, why should anyone who was shocked to be appointed minister not be equally shocked to lose the role?
Nothing from Museveni is permanent. The same surprise with which power comes is the same with which it departs.
It is remarkable that Rt. Hon. Robinah Nabbanja has now served longer as Prime Minister than John Patrick Amama Mbabazi. JPAM held the position for three years and 117 days, while Nabbanja—known fondly as "Majegere"—has surpassed that, serving three years and 262 days. To some, she comes across as rough around the edges.
A certain journalist, now working for an MP, has made it his mission to use her as the prime example of what, in his view, has gone wrong with Museveni’s cabinet choices.
But when viewed without bias—a difficult task—Nabbanja stands as proof that in Museveni’s Uganda, anyone can become anything. There is a reason why village women—Uganda’s largest and most loyal voting bloc—see her as an inspiration. She peels matooke with them, listens to them, and tries to uplift them.
They see a woman who was once like them and believe they, too, can rise. Whether that belief will translate into reality for them is another story.
If your most steadfast voters are village women, why appoint a typical government bureaucrat as Prime Minister? What purpose would that serve in a system where you personally oversee and decide everything?
At some point, Nabbanja seems to have realised that working hard to keep a Museveni-given job is a futile pursuit.
She eased into her role, focusing more on making a difference in the lives of the very women she will eventually return to when her tenure ends. Her decision to continue living in Makerere Kavule was likely a wise one.
After all the convoys and battles with the so-called "mafias," she understands that her roots are in Kavule, and there she will remain. Why move to Kololo for a temporary assignment only to return to Kavule a few years later?
Soon, a new cabinet will be needed, bringing with it fresh shocks and surprises. Time to start looking for my fly on the wall.