Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Uganda’s latest masterclass in fiscal gymnastics, where the budget is on a diet but only certain people are allowed to lose weight. In a dazzling display of governmental genius that would make circus contortionists weep with envy, Uganda’s leadership has once again proven that when it comes to cutting costs, nothing is too sacred except, of course, the ever-expanding waistline of the political class.
While medical interns are being told to work for the love of humanity and perhaps a complimentary plate of posho if the hospital kitchen feels generous, the noble art of creating more ministerial positions, bloating Parliament, and generously adjusting allowances continues with the urgency of a man late for his own wedding.
These are people who have survived years of medical school, exams that read like ancient spells, and hospital shifts that make military training look like a wellness retreat. After all that, just when they finally reach the finish line, the system looks at them and says: congratulations but your payment is experience.
Apparently, producing more doctors is now a budgeting emergency, we may soon declare education itself as a luxury item.
In the same Kampala, cabinet expansion talks continue like a landlord discovering vertical construction. Ministers, ministers of state, assistant ministers, deputy assistants of ministers.
Each one comes with fuel, convoy, office, allowances, furniture, and at least one mandatory benchmarking trip to a country that has already solved the problem we are travelling to study. Parliament, of course, is fully operational in its natural habitat: the national allowance distribution centre. Constituencies keep multiplying like software updates and committees appear like side quests.
Every session introduces a new form of facilitation allowance yet when someone mentions paying interns, the national budget suddenly behaves like it has seen a ghost.
A medical intern at Mulago is on hour 30 of a shift, surviving on tea, adrenaline, and sheer spiritual resilience.
He has delivered babies, handled emergencies, and made life-or-death decisions without sleeping. At the exact same time, somewhere in a heavily air-conditioned office, a newly appointed official is approving fuel for a convoy that will attend a meeting about improving efficiency. Both are serving the country, no doubt !
And that is Uganda’s real talent: selective austerity. We tighten belts where it hurts least, but the pattern is simple: those who hold scalpels and chalks are always told to understand, while those who hold microphones and budgets are told to increase allocation. Uganda, once again, remains undefeated in the art of financial illusion.