“I am a man more sinned against than sinning,” lamented King Lear in Shakespeare’s tragedy. One could be forgiven for thinking the great English dramatist was referring not to the mythical king but to Uganda’s former President Milton Obote—and now, President Museveni.
Like Obote, Museveni will one day leave power. But, like Obote, he will likely leave behind a population still entangled in the same moral decay he tried to govern.
Obote, who never so much as carried a gun in his 82 years, lies buried in a simple grave in Abeibuti village, Akokoro sub-county. Yet in the public memory, he remains condemned as a mass murderer.
Museveni, for his part, is accused of engineering the very infrastructure of impunity and corruption in Uganda. But is that really the whole story?
Was it Museveni who ordered Justice Lydia Mugambe and Ambassador Mugerwa to smuggle a vulnerable Ugandan woman into the UK to work in slave-like conditions, violating British immigration and labour laws? Certainly not.
A scandal of that magnitude—"Ugandan judge jailed for modern slavery"—is far too explosive to imagine him authorising.
Was it Museveni who told officials at the Ministry of Finance and the Bank of Uganda to reroute over $6.5 million intended for international debt repayment into private accounts in the UK and Japan? No. Yet the damage to Museveni’s global image—though caused by others—remains severe and irreparable.
Was it Museveni who instructed ministers to steal iron sheets earmarked for the vulnerable people of Karamoja? No. The President, for all his faults, has consistently styled himself as a man of the people. The ongoing Parish Development Model payouts are his attempt to appease a weary and impoverished electorate in the run-up to the next election.
Was it Museveni who orchestrated the attempted assassination of General Katumba Wamala—an attack that instead killed his daughter Brenda, who reportedly cried out in her final moments, “Oh my God”? Or the murder of former AIP Andrew Kaweesi and his entourage? Not likely. These acts, if anything, seemed designed to undermine Museveni’s rule by broadcasting fear and insecurity.
Is it Museveni who instructs his son, Gen. Muhoozi Kainerugaba, to spend his time composing colourful tweets? I doubt it. Do you?
Was it Museveni who encouraged members of my own family—led by a devout born-again Christian—to rob me of everything from 1990 onward, long before corruption had reached epidemic levels in Uganda? No. My family, like many in this country, is a reflection of our broader culture of impunity.
Today, some Ugandans are reportedly lobbying for Museveni to appeal Lydia Mugambe’s conviction and have her serve her sentence in Uganda. Lydia should reject both overtures.
First, the gravity of her crime—human trafficking and modern slavery—means an overzealous British judge could easily double or triple her sentence in an attempt to atone for Britain’s past in the transatlantic slave trade.
Second, opting to leave the relatively humane British prison system would be akin to willingly entering the purgatory of Ugandan prisons, known more for brutality than reform.
In Uganda, victimising Museveni has become a lucrative enterprise. Wear yellow, call yourself an "investor", or flatter the President—and you’re in business. Shakespeare put it best in Julius Caesar:
“Unicorns may be betrayed with trees,
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men (like Museveni) with flatterers.”
But if yellow isn’t your colour, join the opposition and make a fortune preaching anti-Museveni rhetoric. Or, reinvent yourself as a self-declared international security analyst, trading in leaks and tapes.
Whoever is behind the now-infamous Kizza Besigye audio, let them step forward as a witness—just don’t demand offshore payment in exchange for testimony.
So wherever you look, Museveni stands not as villain but as victim. And like Obote before him, he is the architect of his own misfortune—driven by an insatiable desire to rule a country whose citizens seem determined to defy governance.
Lydia Mugambe is just the latest in a long line of Ugandans to stain Museveni’s tenure. In contrast, Professor Yusuf Lule, who ruled for only 68 days, left with his legacy untarnished.
Dr Sam Akaki is a Ugandan citizen