There was a near-imperceptible lift to the breeze as I breezed into Nyungu Yamawe two Tuesdays ago at midday. Immediately to my left, I saw something like a makeshift amalgam of wood. It’s like the trees of the forest fell in love, then broke up to make up at this spot. The varnished wood is smooth to the touch, inviting you to take a seat in the restaurant.
So, I sat down. Seated opposite me was a woman of substance. And not because she was picking up the bill. I would have done so. But being a gentleman, I have always thought it proper for women to go first. That includes in the race to pay the bill. To make sure that happened, I raced to the toilet as soon as the bill arrived. As I tore away, Crystal Rutangye-Bazirake rifled through her handbag to pony up the bill. I returned when the bill was settled and the metaphorical dust was back in its resting place.
I could see three donkeys braying in the mid-distance. They added lustre to Nyungu Yamawe’s reputation for being a peri-urban rustic getaway. Which is perfect in view of the fresh and healthy food served in Nyungu Yamawe’s nameless restaurant. The fish is so big, you’d think it was a whale. I found this fishy. How do you have fish so big it fillets you, leaving you with no eyeballs because they popped out in shock when you saw the fish? The chips are sizeable, too. It seems the potatoes were truly Irish, their size seemed to be Dublin. Opps, that’s actually spelt as doubling. At any rate, the chefs explained to me that the larger chips were conduced to customer demand. Ham and Chris, the chefs, are an interesting duo. Ham told me his name was Chris and Chris informed me he is called Ham. Yet their names seem as interchangeable as chalk and cheese, when they are not the ones doing the swapping.
The beginning
As Rutangye-Bazirake and I launched into the meal, we took in our surroundings. Mixed with the peppermint breeze, trees abounding, and cottages circumjacently located, this restaurant is bigger than its menu. Rutangye-Bazirake agrees. She has a nose for good copy and she did copy when I praised the joint. Being an exacting professional, compliments rarely bloom eternal in her vocabulary. The lady has always been about standards. High standards. This has been her story since her somewhat storybook career began. ‘I often say I stumbled into publishing by following my love for books. As a child in Kampala, I was always surrounded by stories, folktales, school readers, religious books, and later, novels I exchanged with friends. That passion slowly grew into a profession.
Today, I am an editor, writer, and publishing consultant, helping independent authors produce books that are not only well-written but also well-packaged for readers,’ says Rutangye-Bazirake. In 2015, she became the first Ugandan known to graduate with a Master of Letters in Publishing Studies from the University of Stirling in Scotland, where she studied as a Commonwealth Scholar. Before that, she worked at Moran Publishers Uganda and did editorial internships with Modjaji Books in South Africa and Palimpsest in Scotland. Since then, she has edited dozens of books, including the autobiographies of Archbishop Henry Luke Orombi and former Director of Public Prosecutions Justice Mike Chibita.
Through Scribe House, the publishing agency she founded, her team has supported more than 50 authors and organisations in bringing their manuscripts to life. ‘My own writing has also travelled. My short story Legal Alien, first published in anthologies by African Writers Trust – the online anthology titled Ssubi, and a print anthology titled Moonscapes. It was adapted into film and included in curriculum books in Kenya, India, and the Philippines. More recently, my essay Maternal Everlasting appeared in the Ibua Journal,’ she says. ‘Beyond editing and writing, I chair the Christian Writers Association-Uganda, I sit on the board of the Uganda Reproduction Rights Organisation, and I mentor young editors and publishers. My life revolves around words, stories, and the people who carry them. At home, I share that love with my husband, Dr Joseph Bazirake Besigye (PhD) and our two children.’
Taking stock
Rutangye-Bazirake was and is still struck by Ernest Bazenye’s description of Uganda being ‘a literary jungle but a publishing desert.’ The description, she tells me, still rings true. ‘We have plenty of manuscripts, yet too few systems to carry them to readers,’ she notes. Uganda has, Rutangye-Bazirake further observes, never lacked storytellers. ‘From Okot p’Bitek’s Song of Lawino to Jennifer Makumbi’s Kintu, our writers have always found ways to give voice to our experiences. But for decades, many of those voices had to travel outside our borders to be heard,’ she offers. She adds: ‘Our publishing journey began with missionaries who set up presses to produce Bibles for new readers. Later, the colonial government supported the East African Literature Bureau, which published writers like p’Bitek.
In the 1960s and 1970s, Ugandan authors even featured in the Heinemann African Writers Series, Mukotani Rugyendo, Timothy Wangusa, and Robert Serumaga among them. Those were exciting times, when being a writer from Uganda meant your book could travel the world. ‘Over time, however, publishing became tied to education. By the 1990s, most local publishers focused on textbooks for schools, competing for government contracts through the National Curriculum Development Centre. That made business sense since textbook orders were reliable, but it left trade publishing, fiction, memoirs, children’s books, inspirational books, cookbooks and all, thin and under-resourced.’
Challenges
Fast forward to today, there’s both growth and struggle. First, even though literacy in Uganda has risen slowly but steadily, millions still remain outside the reading circle, and even those who can read often struggle with comprehension. A 2024 Uwezo report showed that 23 percent of Primary Seven pupils could not handle a Primary Two text. With students struggling to read to pass exams, one can only imagine if they are inspired to read for leisure, all the benefits that come with being an avid reader notwithstanding. And then, what does this mean for all the authors who assume there’s 70 percent of a nation’s population under 30 years old ready to consume their written works? Are Ugandan authors really writing to sell books to Ugandan readers, the same Ugandan readers who just want to pass exams then never want to pick up a book again? Then there is access.
Uganda has just about 47 public libraries, many of which are underfunded and inactive. Bookshops are concentrated in Kampala, leaving rural readers with very few options. Distribution networks across borders are also weak, making it hard for a book published in Uganda to easily reach Nairobi, Lagos, or Johannesburg. ‘On the production side, however, more Ugandans are writing than ever before. In 2020, only about 350 new local books were registered, and in 2021, the number shot up to more than 1,600. But then most of these books are self-published, and many authors do not know how or where to get quality editing, design, or marketing support. Without professional guidance, some books fall short of international standards, making it difficult for them to compete in wider markets,’ Rutangye-Bazirake says.
‘Costs make things even harder. Because after investing in editing and book design, many authors cannot afford large print runs, so books are often sold in small quantities at high prices. This fuels the perception that ‘books are expensive’ and feeds into Uganda’s weak book-buying culture. In fact, I personally believe our book-buying culture is the real problem stunting our publishing industry, not necessarily the reading culture. I write more about this in my #MarketingMonday series on Muwado.com. I think there’s a large enough readership to earn a local author reasonable profit from book sales. It is not that there aren’t enough people who enjoy reading; it is that books compete with daily needs and are rarely prioritised in an economy where there’s not much disposable income,’ she adds.
There is a gap to be bridged, says Rutangye-Bazirake. Thousands of authors are writing books that are not always well edited and produced but are expensive for readers who prioritise educational books over the hundreds of trade books produced each year. ‘At least if production of all local content matched international standards, and there were affordable means to avail all our content to the international market while our publishers resolve the multi-layered challenges of our local readership, the publishing industry would be more lucrative.’
How things are changing
Rutangye-Bazirake, nevertheless, sees ‘shifts worth celebrating.’ Digital publishing, for one, is growing steadily. ‘Uganda’s ePublishing market was valued at about $18m (Shs62b) in 2024, with nearly nine million users expected by 2027. This means more readers are coming online, more stories can be distributed digitally, and more authors can bypass the costs of large print runs. Another encouraging trend is the rise of hybrid publishers: companies like Scribe House that partner with authors to ensure quality while still giving them control combining expert publishing processes and guidance with author investment,’ she says.
‘We also see more Ugandan authors gaining international recognition. Jennifer Makumbi, Goretti Kyomuhendo, and others remind us that our stories resonate globally. Local networks like the Christian Writers Association-Uganda and the African Writers Trust are also nurturing talent and building communities of practice,’ she adds.
Uganda in comparison
When you place Uganda next to countries like Nigeria, South Africa, or even Kenya, the differences are striking, says Rutangye-Bazirake. South Africa and Nigeria together produce nearly half of Africa’s books and account for a much larger share of the continent’s book sales. Kenya has a livelier book trade, with stronger book fairs, better distribution, and more visibility for its authors. Uganda, by contrast, still leans heavily on educational publishing. ‘Our trade publishing market is small, our distribution channels fragile, and our global footprint is limited. For example, while Nigeria publishes thousands of trade titles each year, Uganda registers only a fraction of that. Our eBook revenues are projected at just over $4 million (Shs14 billion) in 2025, promising but still modest compared to larger markets,’ Rutangye-Bazirake says.