There are always opportunities for societies to reflect on who they are, what they value, and what they reject. One concern that remains evident, however, is that some individuals continue to harbour prejudice against Banyarwanda as a people, which is problematic from any perspective.
It is still common to encounter people who refer to someone as “a Munyarwanda” in a derogatory tone, as though it were equivalent to a disease or a condition to be avoided. This kind of framing reflects a deeper misunderstanding of identity and belonging.
Years ago, during a visit to Hon. Sam Kuteesa, I was reminded of the meaning behind his name, Kuteesakwe, a Kiganda expression that points to a history of migration from Ankole to Sembabule. He spoke with appreciation about being part of Buganda, and helped illustrate how Kiganda culture has long provided a pathway for integration, allowing people to become fully Muganda and enjoy all associated rights and privileges.
It is within this cultural context that many Banyarwanda who came into the region—often after experiencing segregation elsewhere—found acceptance in Buganda. Many adopted Kiganda names, fully integrated into society, and contributed to the development of the Kingdom.
Historical accounts also point to longstanding patterns of openness in Buganda, including the Kabaka’s documented friendships and interactions with individuals from diverse backgrounds. Arabs arriving from the coast, and later the British, also found a place within Buganda’s social landscape, reflecting a broader tradition of accommodation.
At the heart of this outlook is a cultural philosophy that emphasises recognising people first as human beings, rather than defining them narrowly through difference. For anyone who has lived outside their homeland, the experience of being treated as “other” can be deeply uncomfortable, especially when it is based solely on origin.
Culture, in this sense, serves as a vehicle for transmitting values across generations. There are many Banyarwanda families who have, over time, partially or fully adopted Kiganda culture. This becomes especially visible during marriage ceremonies, where some prefer to conduct proceedings within Ganda traditions, and openly identify as Baganda while acknowledging ancestral roots in Rwanda.
There are also historical examples of integration within Buganda’s leadership structures, including individuals of diverse heritage serving in the Lukiiko. Figures such as Singh Katongole are often cited as evidence of this long-standing inclusivity.
From this perspective, discrimination is not a strength of society but a weakness rooted largely in fear of the unfamiliar. However, appreciation of Buganda’s cultural strength should not be confused with online sentiment or superficial identity markers.
True cultural identity, the argument goes, is not defined by names alone. Many people who carry Kiganda names may not necessarily embody the values of Buganda, just as cultural authenticity is shaped by practice and belonging rather than appearance.
There are also historical narratives within the royal lineage that reflect diverse ancestry, underscoring the reality that integration has long been part of the region’s history. The point, therefore, is that societies do not thrive by exclusion, but by inclusion.
Ultimately, Buganda is presented here as a society whose strength lies in its openness—its willingness to welcome and integrate those who embrace its values, regardless of origin. It is this tradition, the writer argues, that should guide contemporary debates and help close divisions driven by ignorance and fear.