Dear Tingasiga: I have never voted in a Ugandan general election. I was a little boy when Uganda went to the polls in 1961 and 1962. However, my interest in these things was already bubbling within me, thanks to my father who invited me to attend political party leaders’ campaigns. We attended rallies by Benedicto Mugumba Kiwanuka, the leader of the Democratic Party (DP), and Apolo Milton Obote, the leader of the Uganda Peoples Congress (UPC.) The rallies, held in our local marketplace, were simple affairs, presenting humble men who spoke with smiles, and made their promises before working the crowds. However, that election was shocking, even to a little boy whose mother was a Roman Catholic and the father a Native Anglican.
The ecumenical life which we had been accustomed to was overthrown by a frightening level of conflict. Friends and neighbours became enemies. The next election, held on April 25, 1962, was marred by worse conflict, election rigging, complete with underage ‘voters,’ and results that ended Kiwanuka’s leadership. He had served our country as chief minister for one year and as our first prime minister for just under one month. There is a marvellous photograph, taken in May 1962, that shows a smiling Apolo Milton Obote hoisted by several jubilant men celebrating the recent electoral victory of the UPC/Kabaka Yekka (KY) alliance. I have written about that photo in the past, but it is worth repeating, for it has a strong message for us.
The men in the photograph are cabinet ministers in the new government, probably certain of many happy years ahead, free men in the finest country on the continent. Alex A Ojera from Acholi bears most of the prime minister’s weight. Felix Kenyi Onama from West Nile/Madi looks into the camera, his arms steadying the victorious prime minister. Ali Akbar Adoko Nekyon from Lango, the prime minister’s cousin, lends a brotherly hand. Behind him is Grace Stuart Katebariirwe Ibingira from Ankole, age 30, waving in triumph. James Joseph Trevor Simpson from Buganda, the only European in the cabinet, grins with satisfaction. He is the Kabaka Yekka member of parliament for Kyaggwe North East .
Dr Joshua Ssejjengo Luyimbazi Zake from Buganda, perhaps the most academically accomplished member of the first cabinet, suppresses a smile. Matthias Mbalule Ngobi Ikoona from Busoga, arms thrust forward, appears to be dancing with joy. The Isebantu Sir William Wilberforce Bwamiki Kadhumbula Nadiope, the Kyabazinga of Busoga, beams as he offers a triumphant royal wave. The only man in the photograph whose facial expression hints at ambivalence, if not outright displeasure, is Dr Emmanuel Bijjugo Sajjalyabene Lumu from Buganda. Does he have misgivings about the prognosis that awaits the delicate arrangement that has placed their fate in the hands of Obote, a man who had not had any leadership or other executive experience?
Things fell apart rather quickly. JT Simpson, who was both chairman of the Uganda Development Corporation, and minister of Finance, resigned his seat in 1964, left the government, and repaired to Nairobi, Kenya. That became his home for the rest of his life. Obote imprisoned Ibingira, Ngobi and Lumu, together with Ministers George Magezi and Balaki Kirya, on February 22, 1966. They had been allegedly plotting to overthrow him from the prime minister’s office. Nekyon resigned from the Obote cabinet in April 1967, remained politically active for decades, and died of illness in Kampala on May 4, 2018. Onama had an uneasy relationship with Obote, even when the latter made him one of the most powerful men in the country.
According to the late Cuthbert Obwangor, Onama (and Basil Bataringaya) were behind the assassination attempt on Obote on December 19, 1969. Onama was believed to have been involved in the successful plot coup d’état that ended Milton Obote’s first presidency on January 25, 1971. Ibingira, released from prison in February 1972, served briefly as an ambassador to the UN, but remained at the periphery of Uganda’s power structure. He never rose to the role that his brief shining moment in our history had promised. He died of natural causes in Bujumbura, Burundi on an uncertain date in December 1995. After his release from political prison in February 1971, Dr Lumu returned to his professional career, and shunned active politics for the rest of his life.
He practiced medicine in Kisenyi in central Kampala and retired at 80 years of age. He died of natural causes at his home in Kampala on December 11, 2019. He was 103 years old. Alex Ojera, the only one in that photo who appeared to have remained loyal to Obote, joined the ill-fated armed force that invaded Uganda from Tanzania on September 17, 1972, with the goal of regaining power. Ojera surrendered to the Uganda Army, was arrested and executed sometime in October 1972. Milton Obote, overthrown twice by his soldiers, died of a natural cause in a South African hospital on October 10, 2005, ending 20-years of a second exile that he had spent in Lusaka, Zambia.
On the other hand, JT Simpson was knighted with The Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (KBE) on January 1, 1965. He enjoyed a successful business career as chairman of Simpson and Company in Kenya and died in Nairobi at the age of 86 on April 10, 1994. In addition to his vast wealth in Kenya, Sir James’ estate in England and Wales alone was valued at £302,858 (equivalent to £769,259 today.) We remember the early 1960s with nostalgia. We rightly consider the first parliament and executive branch to have been populated with patriotic gentlemen. Yet they engaged in political battles that kept the country on the edge of our seats.
The leaders’ conflicts had supporting acts at district levels. In Kigezi we had the Banyama-Baboga wars that left deep and wounds in their wake. The Catholic-Anglican tensions hibernated a little when the UPC people were engaged in their suicidal factional fights. However, that religious tension occupied subterranean territory, with episodic eruptions, usually triggered by political campaigns and so-called elections. Just like the chief protagonists in the early post-independence battles are all dead and largely forgotten, their cheerleaders and foot soldiers are long forgotten. All gained from those fights were damaged relations and wasted opportunities.
Many believed the lies of opportunistic politicians without stopping to ask themselves what the fight was about. Whereas I understand the complexities of politics and the struggles for control that trigger epic battles between comrades and fellow kinspeople, I wish I could persuade all Ugandans that these religious and ethnic verbal fights are just not worth it. That is as true for the under-employed youth in Mparo and Bukedea, as it is true for those battling for control of State House or the parliamentary speaker’s chair. It is not worth it.