If you are joining us for the first time: In Episode 1, we met Mzee Zakayo, who never built a granary but ate from the labor of others. His son Okello Anyapo inherited his appetite but not his cattle, and emptied his uncle Owera’s granary because he was given access without rules. In Episode 2, we lifted our eyes to Uganda’s constitutional granary, built in 1995, and watched Parliament abandon its duty to build walls around it. We saw the seven famines: the Shs 763 billion justice tax, the incompetence shield, the two-man cartel, the executive pocket veto, the criminalization of transparency, the ghost tier of unaccountable actors, and the commission that judges itself.
THIS IS THE SOIL FROM WHICH ULS CONSTITUTIONAL PETITION NO. 12 OF 2025: UGANDA LAW SOCIETY VS ATTORNEY GENERAL ROSE
The petition was filed. The Application for a temporary injunction to halt Judicial appointments pending disposal of the main petition; The arguments were made. The rot was laid bare.
And the Constitutional Court is in no hurry.
The cause list does not call it. The months pass. The granary empties further.
Every day the petition sleeps is a day Okello eats.
Every delay is a verdict delivered without judgment, a verdict that says: this urgency is not our urgency.
The villagers are watching the courthouse door, just as they watch the granary door.
And the door does not open.
WHILE THE PETITION SLEPT
An urgent Constitutional Application, Application No. 11 of 2025, was filed alongside the main petition. It asked the court to halt all judicial appointments pending the determination of the substantive petition.
Among the grounds: the Judicial Service Commission was unlawfully constituted, missing the two nominees the Constitution requires from the Uganda Law Society.
The Constitutional Court did not cause-list that application.
So the appointments proceeded.
The new Chief Justice, the Hon. Fr. Flavian Zeija, was sworn in. The new Principal Judge, the Hon. Judge Jane Francis Abodo, was sworn in.
Before his elevation, the Hon. Dr. Justice Zeija was the Deputy Chief Justice. In that capacity, he presided over the very Constitutional Court that received Application No. 11 of 2025, the application asking the court to pause appointments, including his own.
The court did not list the application. No reasons were given. The appointments proceeded.
In Abongodero, the elders would say: when the man guarding the granary door benefits from what passes through it, the door stays open.
These are facts. Draw your own conclusions.
THE POWER TO STOP ALL THIS LIES IN YOUR HANDS AS A CITIZEN AND AJURI CONSTITUENCY IS PROOF OF CONCEPT.
The Honorable Hamson Obua did not lose by accident.
He rehearsed monarchy in public. He crowned himself Holy Trinity, God the Father, Honorable Member of Parliament, Ajuri Constituency, God the Son, Government Chief and God the Holy Spirit, Vice National Chairperson of the National Resistance Movement for Northern Uganda of political titles. He spoke succession like family inheritance: Museveni, then Muhoozi, then Muhoozi’s children.
Ajuri listened.
They watched soldiers. They watched a disputed poll. They watched power glare at them from armored vehicles.
And they voted again.
Twice in under one month.
History does not always move slowly. Sometimes it slaps.
Enter Badman Jalameso.
Teacher. Organizer. Refusal embodied. Not a dynasty. Not a surname throne. Just a man carried by exhaustion with entitlement.
Badman Jalameso is not a saint. He is a signal.
The signal is this: voters will rise when the granary stays empty.They will require answers and when the answers are not forthcoming, The leader who fails to answer appropriately will be sent back home.
If you are joining us for the first time: In Episode 1, we visited Abongodero, the village named after Mzee Zakayo’s ingenuity. Zakayo never built a granary. He traded cattle for the harvest of others. His son, Okello Anyapo, inherited land but not discipline. When hunger came, his uncle Owera Apur, the only farmer who actually built, opened his granary to him. No rules. Just access. Okello emptied it, smiled, and said: “You allowed me. I merely accessed.” The proverb, which came from the lesson which Abongodero learnt from Okello Anyapo still echoes: You never send a starving man to the granary.
NOW LIFT YOUR EYES FROM THE VILLAGE.
In 1995, Uganda built a granary.
It was called the Constitution. The Constituent Assembly, our Owera, sweated over it. They filled it with grains, cereals and legumes: independence, fairness, accountability, public trust. They stored enough justice to last generations.
Then they handed the keys to Parliament and said:
“Guard this. Build walls around it. Regulate who enters, who eats, who guards. Pass laws to guide the President and the Judicial Service Commission in appointing, disciplining, and removing judicial officers.“
That was the command. Clear. Deliberate. Unambiguous, store the nation’s granary of justice to feed generations and posterity.
For thirty years, Parliament has done what the villagers of Abongodero did.
They admired the granary.
They walked around it. They named committees after it. They photocopied the Constitution into the Judicial Service Commission Act, sprinkled it with procedure, some insidous confidentiality and went home. They called that a good day’s job and pocketed fat salaries for dereliction of duty.
They left the rest to the Commission.
And what is this Commission?
A body composed largely of insiders. Judges. Judicial actors. The Attorney General, the government’s chief defender, seated comfortably in a structure that decides the fate of judges who sometimes rule against his own client.
It is as if Owera had not only handed Anyapo the keys, but appointed Anyapo’s hungriest siblings as the oversight committee to stop him from collecting excessive grains from the granary.
The Inspectorate of Government’s 2021 “Cost of Corruption” report estimated that Ugandan court users paid Shs 763 billion in bribes—43% of the 2019 justice sector budget.
Why?
Because Parliament never built the walls. The 2025 Regulations ensure that bribery does not lead to a judicial officer’s automatic removal. It whispers. It negotiates. It retires quietly with benefits.
At any judiciary function, you will hear rhetorical sloganeering about zero tolerance to corruption. The truth is the leadership and the whole institution preaches water and drinks wine. The structure of the Judicial Service Regulations, 2025 creates elite favors for the Judge, Registrars and the Magistrates.
We hunt “small thieves” in the civil service while the gatekeepers negotiate their exit through cabalist legislation.
2. TheIncompetence Shield
A High Court judge can be removed for incompetence.
But for magistrates, the men and women deciding the everyday fate of boda riders, widows, and shopkeepers, incompetence does not lead to automatic removal. Parliament has allowed a regime where the “big fish” are fired for failing, but the “small sharks” are legally protected and recycled.
Why are judicial officers more “special” than nurses, teachers, engineers or lawyers in the civil service or private sector who are fired the moment they prove incompetent?
Because Parliament never built the walls.
3. The “Two-Man” Recruitment Cartel
Parliament’s silence allowed the Judicial Service Commission to create committees where the quorum is a mere two people, less than 50% of the committee.
The entire future of Uganda’s Bench can now be decided by two individuals in a private room, bypassing the multi-stakeholder wisdom the Constitution mandates.
Two people.
Deciding who judges you.
And Parliament watches.
4. The Executive “Pocket Veto”
Under Section 13(6) of the Act, no judge can be disciplined unless the Attorney General, the government’s own lawyer, is physically present.
By simply not showing up, the Executive holds a de facto veto over judicial accountability.
The government’s defender decides whether the judges who rule against the government face discipline.
You do not need a law degree to smell this rot.
5. Criminalizing Transparency
Instead of “open justice,” Parliament enacted Sections 17 and 23, making it a criminal offense to disclose Judicial Service Commission records without permission.
They didn’t just fail to build the granary.
They made it a crime to look inside and see what is being stolen.
6. The “Non-Accountable” Ghost Tier
By failing to define “Judicial Officer” properly, the law creates a phantom tier of Registrars, Deputy Registrars, Assistant Registrars, Chief Magistrates and Tribunal actors who exercise power over citizens but are legally insulated from oversight.
They have the power of a judge.
They have the accountability of a ghost.
7. The Commission That Judges Itself
The Judicial Service Commission receives complaints. Investigates them. Prosecutes them. Hears them. Decides them.
Investigator. Prosecutor. Judge. Jury.
All in one hut.
We are warned about such concentration of power. But warnings without legislative correction are like a quarrel of drunkards at the village square.
Parliament heard the warning.
Parliament did nothing.
AND WHEN THE VILLAGERS COMPLAINED…
When the Uganda Law Society, noisy, stubborn, unapologetic and unyielding, attempted to intervene?
Injunctions. Uncause-listed petitions. Elections stalled. Appointments to the Judiciary proceeded like wedding ceremonies that will not wait for objections.
The granary was gutted politely.
“SHUT UP! YOU ARE GIVING US TRAUMA”
At the 2026 New Law Year, Chief Justice Flavian Zeija warned that social media attacks on judges would not be tolerated. Online criticism, he said, causes trauma and will be crushed.
Trauma from tweets?
Try the trauma of five years on remand while your case gathers dust. Try the trauma of losing ancestral land because you cannot afford a surveyor. Try the trauma of watching a bribe walk free while your child rots in detention.
The Uganda Law Society replied, correctly, that scrutiny is constitutional oxygen.
But the Chief Justice’s instinct was not an accident.
It was Okello Anyapo protesting demands for answers when Uncle Apur required answers for the granary that was depleted because he gave access without regulation. He permitted Anyapo to eat without brakes.
Because the elders of Abongodero reminded Apur that the roots of accountability are bitter but the fruits are sweet!.
There is a village called Abongodero. Abongodero means without a granary.
The villagers named it after Mzee Zakayo’s ingenuity.
Zakayo was clever. He never built a granary of his own. Instead, he raised cattle, fat bulls, glossy heifers. When hunger season approached, he would walk to a farmer whose granaries groaned with millet and offer a bull in exchange for rights to a certain number of storehouses. Enough to feed his household. Enough to impress the neighbors.
The arrangement was sealed with a handshake. Everyone knew Zakayo’s cattle. Everyone knew he paid.
The villagers admired him.
“..Look at Zakayo!..”they whispered around evening fires. “He eats from granaries he never built!“
They admired him so much that they named the village after his ingenuity.
Abongodero.
A photo of a granary. Credit. Uganda Today: from article: A testament to tradition: the art of grain in Uganda’s homesteads by Chris Kato.
But abundance has a wicked sense of humor.
Zakayo’s children grew up knowing which families owed them food, which granaries bore their father’s mark. They inherited cattle, but not discipline. They inherited the right to eat, but not the wisdom to plant.
One of them was Okello Anyapo.
Anyapo. The lazy one.
Okello inherited land so fertile it blushed when rain touched it. Black soil. Generous soil. Soil that would have yielded harvests his grandfather never imagined.
But his hoe remained smooth. His fields grew weeds tall enough to vote.
When hunger came, Okello blamed the sun for burning too bright. He blamed the rain for falling too hard. He blamed the ancestors for not speaking loudly enough. He blamed everyone except his idle hands.
Across the stream lived Owera Apur.
Apur the Farmer.
He did not give speeches about productivity. He simply woke before the rooster finished its gossip. He dug. He planted. He weeded. He waited. His granary stood behind his hut like a quiet monument to repetition.
He had no cattle to trade. He had only his back, his hands, and his patience.
His granary stood full.
Proof that the land was never the problem.
Then hunger came like a leopard.
The families who once owed Zakayo’s children had rebuilt their stores. They no longer needed cattle. They needed their millet for themselves.
Okello’s inheritance could not be traded for what no one would sell.
Hunger clawed him thin.
He crossed the stream.
“Uncle,” he said. “We are blood. Remember Father Zakayo? The village bears witness to his name.”
In Lango, dignity comes before shame. Owera sighed. He looked at his granary—full from seasons of sweat.
He opened the door.
“Enter,”he said. “Take what you need.”
Not ownership. Not supervision. Not rules.
Just access.
Okello entered empty and emerged round.
He returned the next day. And the next. Soon he stopped pretending to farm at all.
Why sweat when sacks yawn open? Why ration when no one counts? Why plant when the granary door never closes?
By planting season, Owera opened his store to prepare for the rains.
It echoed like a drum.
Empty.
When confronted, Okello adjusted his waistband and smiled.
“You allowed me.“ “There were no rules.“ “I merely accessed.”
And that is how Abongodero learned what their ancestors should have known:
You never send a starving man to the granary.
[End of Episode 1]
Stay tuned and on the look out for Episode 2 of the legend of Abongodero.
Deep within the Mambo Forest, the animal kingdom lived in awe of a single, dazzling truth: their ruler, Twon Gweno the cock, wore a crown of living fire. His comb was a legend, a crest of such vibrant crimson that the elders swore it was a fragment of the first sun. His morning crow was a decree:
“Bow to my glory, and you will be spared my flame.”
And so, the animals bowed. Fear made them pious; fear made the cock sovereign with unquestioned loyalty, respect and cooperation from the rest of the animal kingdom in that forest. It was a classic case of natural-born legitimacy; never really earned.
One evening, a crisis struck. Ichuli, the fox, the sole specialist in lighting the communal fire, was away. The wood was piled, but the spark was missing. The night, cold and predatory, loomed.
Odyek Odyek, the hyena, a friend to truth and enemy of pretence, stepped forward.
“The solution is simple,” she said. “We bow to Ladit Twon Gweno’s crown of fire. I will sprint to his home and borrow a spark.”
She took a tuft of the driest spear grass, the Obia and went to the cock’s compound. She found him in a deep, unconscious slumber. Without waking him, she gently pressed the grass to his legendary crown, waiting for the catch, the sizzle, the proof.
The grass rested on the crown, as inert as if it had been placed on a cool stone. The legendary fire was a phantom.
Odyek Odyek, the hyena returned to the gathering and dropped the cold, unburnt grass in the centre of the circle. No words were needed. The lie they had bowed to for generations unravelled in that silent moment.
Power, and unearned but coerced legitimacy unmasked, bled its authority into the silent night.
⚖️ The Lesson
Borrowed fire must warm the hearts of the people. When it no longer does, the borrower is called to account.
So it is with the courts. The robe, the gavel, the summons, and the warrant are instruments loaned by the people. Article 126(1) of the Constitution does not sing an ornament; it issues a command:
Judicial power is derived from the people and shall be exercised by the Courts in their name and in accordance with the law and their values, norms, and aspirations.
🧱 The Three Pillars of Legitimacy
Legitimacy; the respect of the people and their cooperation with the courts, is the covenant at the heart of that loan. It demands three sacramental elements:
Reflection: Judicial power must reflect the values and aspirations of the people; not the insatiable appetite of a sophisticated elite for luxury or high life.
Truth: Courts must administer justice in accordance with law and truth, not convenience or midnight deals.
The Judicial Oath: The solemn undertaking before God to do justice to all manner of people without fear, favour, ill will or affection is no actor’s prayer; it is a chain of duty.
Strip away any of these, and what remains is a gowned pretender, eloquent and majestic, perhaps, but hollow: a cock whose crown no longer burns.
The Evidence of Decay
For those who have seen:
• Appeal files missing thirty-eight pages.
• A High Court hearing conducted not in a public courtroom but secretly in a posh hotel in which 15 minutes out of those proceedings were conducted in the absence of the opposite party and the whole process bashed by the Court of Appeal for want of a fair hearing and lack of judicial accountability and transparency and thereby further exacerbating the already slim public trust in the Court system entirely
• A lower bench judicial officer bashed; “I don’t want to see this rubbish here, take it back where it came from” when they had sought guidance over files of thousands of remand detainees who had clocked mandatory bail, over 5 years where the Office of the Director of Public Prosecution state attorneys appeared neither willing nor ready to commit them for trial in the High Court.
• The poorest peasants completely blocked from accessing justice because the lower courts have received directives not to register and dispose of customary land disputes unless a surveyor had first rendered a preliminary survey report; peasants who have never heard of, met heard about or hired the services of a professional called a surveyor. They have to sell a chunk of land to afford a surveyor to conduct a preliminary survey and get their case registered.
• A National Bar Association President’s liberty preserving Application for stay of execution of a manifestly void Contempt of Court ruling take close to 9 months without disposal.
These are not footnotes; they are flesh-and-blood indictments. The 1995 Constitution’s promise of a speedy and fair hearing has become hot air—Kikwangala, Kichupuli, Kawani.
🗣️ The Test — The Philosophy of Insults. Withdrawing legitimacy and requiring that it be earned back by fidelity to its 3 pillars.
“To insult without malice but with evidence is to perform constitutional maintenance and maintain pure legitimacy.”
Hence the philosophy of insults. This is not the petty malice of a tavern quarrel. It is a civic stress-test, a pressure gauge for legitimacy.
It is the public’s cry:
“GIVE US WHAT YOU OWE US.”
We lent you power; we demand accountability in return.
A people that cannot insult and mock power has already lost moral authority. The right to insult and offend the powerful is not a luxury, it is the citizen’s tool for testing whether the borrowed flame is real.
📜 The Proof — The Jurisprudence of Defiance
“Leaders should grow hard skins to bear.” “Power must endure insult to remain clean.”
Uganda: When the Constitution Answered Back
This philosophy is not just wisdom; it is the settled weight of law. Consider Andrew Mwenda, whose words rattled the Republic:
This philosophy is not just wisdom; it is the settled weight of law. Consider Andrew Mwenda, whose words rattled the Republic: “You see these African Presidents. This man went to University, why can’t he behave like an educated person? Why does he behave like a villager?’
Museveni can never intimidate me. He can only intimidate himself ……… the President is becoming more of a coward and every day importing cars that are armor plated and bullet proof and you know moving in tanks and mambas, you know hiding with a mountain of soldiers surrounding him, he thinks that, that is security. That is not security. That is cowardice”
Actually Museveni’s days are numbered if he goes on a collision course with me.”
You mismanaged Garang’s Security. Are you saying it is Monitor that caused the death of Garang or it is your own mismanagement? Garang’s security was put in danger by our own Government putting him first of all on a junk helicopter, second at night, third passing through Imatong Hills where Kony is ?……Are you aware that your Government killed Garang?”
I can never withdraw it. Police call them, I would say the Government of Uganda, out of incompetence led to or caused the death of Garang”
When the state reached for iron law and charged him with sedition, the Constitutional Court answered with freedom, declaring that people from all backgrounds enjoy equal rights of expression, polite or not.
“……Our people express their thoughts differently depending on the environment of their birth, upbringing and education.
While a child brought up in an elite and God fearing society may know how to address an elder or leader politely, his counterpart brought up in a slum environment may make annoying and impolite comments, honestly believing that, that is how to express him/herself.
All these different categories of people in our society enjoy equal rights under the Constitution and the law. And they have equal political power of one vote each.Then came the killer line that buried sedition:
“……During elections voters make very annoying and character assassinating remarks and yet in most cases false, and yet no prosecutions are preferred against them. The reason is because they have a right to criticize their leaders rightly or wrongly. The Court concluded “Leaders should grow hard skins to bear.” A copy of the judgment can be found here:
In Burkina Faso, journalist Issa Konaté was jailed for calling a prosecutor “a criminal in a robe.” In his Words:
“…….The Prosecutor of Faso is the godfather of bandits. He is the sponsor, the organizer, the leader of a vast network of counterfeiters and traffickers that he protects with his power and status.” This is a prosecutor who does not prosecute crime, he commands it. He is not a guardian of order but a godfather of disorder While honest citizens sleep in fear, the chief lawman of our nation sits in his office, dividing the spoils of crime with police officers and bankers He is not a magistrate; he is a criminal in a robe. A saboteur of justice…….”
The African Court answered with thunder and reason. Custodial sentences for speech are a bludgeon against Democracy: “The Court is of the view that the violations of laws of freedom of speech and the press cannot be sanctioned by custodial sentences, without going contrary to the provisions of Articles 9and 19 of the Charter”
The Court pronounced itself on the role of public figures under scrutiny.
“There is no doubt that a prosecutor is a public figure; as such he is more exposed than an ordinary individual and is subject to many and more severe criticisms. Given that, a higher degree of tolerance is expected of him”
From this we learn that “Power must endure insult to remain clean.”
🪶 The Heritage; The Lango Grammar of Reproof
This civic logic is not foreign to us. In Lango, the sharp tongue has long done the work of reform.
• “Ole yin ibedo dako dako”; “…..you man, you behave womanly…”. It is not cruelty. It is shock therapy for duty and clarion call for the family patriarch to “man up” and live up to his responsibilities to his family, to lead firmly, provide for it and protect it.
• “Lango mito alek”; “…..Lango deserves a pestle…” A reminder that discipline is coming unless reform comes first and that it intact comes usually after enforced discipline.
• “Kwany Ka Point” The Gen Z’s and Millenials have similarly curved their own wisdom, “pick only the point”: As plain and simple as that. Pick only the point, filter it from the insult.
• “Ikok Ugali idogi.” “…..You will cry with Ugali in your mouth. …”
In the old rite of passage, a young man’s two upper incisors were pulled, and boiling herbal Ugali was placed in his mouth to ease the agony. He cried through the very remedy meant to heal. Reform rarely feels like mercy.
So when the citizen mocks the powerful, the intention is not cruelty; it is Ugali in the mouth of power: a necessary sting, a painful antidote.
The insult becomes a civic anaesthetic; searing, brutally humiliating, but designed to cleanse and restore legitimacy
Reform rarely feels like mercy. So when the citizen insults and mocks the powerful, the intention is not cruelty. It is Ugali in the mouth of power: a necessary sting, a painful antidote.
🔥 The Repair — The Calculus of Force
Public outrage, properly aimed, creates four fields of pressure that make corruption intolerable:
1. Professional Ostracization: When integrity collapses, the social scaffolding of a career falls with it.
2. Erosion of Authority: A judge who loses public confidence loses jurisdictional muscle and may in fact receive fewer to zero allocations of files to handle or minimal chances to be chosen to sit on a panel in the case of hearings in courts that are manned by more than one Judicial Officer.
3. Legal and Institutional Siege: Scandal catalyses petitions, litigation, and oversight that eat at illegitimacy.
4. Political Abandonment: The appointing power prefers a scapegoat to a scandal, forcing a “voluntary” exit.
From this, we learn that insults are not instruments of mob rule; they are the social physics of accountability.Yet outrage alone is not reform. The sting must translate into architecture: cooling-off periods for judges, transparent appointments, and independent oversight with teeth. Shame, the direct consequence of insult, reveals the rot; law must excise it.
⚔️ The Awakening — The Price of Truth
“The hyena who taught the village to see.”
For too long, the Uganda Law Society was a sleeping giant while the temple burned. But the dry grass is now burning in Masaka. When the President of the Bar , the hyena who taught the village to see, lives in exile for refusing to apologise for truth, his banishment becomes the ultimate test.
Isaac K Ssemakadde (SC) President of Uganda Law Society. Credit: Uganda Law Society Website.
📜 The Counsel;A Call to the Bench and the People
This is not an invitation to vulgarity for its own sake. Insult as a civic weapon must be wielded with evidence, not rumour; with satire steeped in fact, not malice.
To the Judges:
Grow the hard skins the Constitutional Court commanded you to have. Wear patience as armour, not menace. Treat insult as a thermometer, not as treason or contempt.
When a citizen insults, ask: does this insult point to truth? If yes, answer in reason, remedy the wrong, and let the nation watch you Act. If not, let the insult fall like a pebble. The dignity and legitimacy of the bench is earned by magnanimity and the stoic creed of the 3 pillars of legitimacy namely Reflection (of law, values, norms and aspirations); Truth and by abiding by the Judicial Oath. It is not enforced by fury, bullying or jaling dissent.
This doctrine requires courage from all sides. The Bar must be relentlessly courageous and fearless in its insult and ridicule while exacting in its ethics.
The public must be loud and literate, hurl insults but bring evidence. Lawyers must translate courage into petitions, not merely WhatsApp gossip and tweets. The Legislature must codify protections for speech against disproportionate criminal sanction and the Judiciary must redicscover the humility of the oath, the most important leg of judicial legitimacy; to do justice without fear, favour, ill will or affection.
To
the citizens: Wield the pen. Make the insult precise devastatingly; threads that link to missing pages, memes that reveal truth.
🌞 The Benediction & Epilogue
Lock and Roseau taught and we learnt from the social contract doctrine that all power, judicial power inclusive, like the communal bull, is never owned. It is loaned to serve, not to feast upon. Judicial officers are, therefore, commissioners, agents of the people, not monarchs. The people are the principal. When the agent betrays, the principal must insult loudly in true reprimand.
If those entrusted with it betray the trust, the people must remind them, sometimes with satire, sometimes with searing words, that borrowed fire must warm, not burn.
This is neither an incitement to violence nor a call for insurrection. It is a call to civil carnage against corruption, ritualised, and peaceful.
Let the insults be sharp, witty, and relentless, and let them dismantle rotten cartels of impunity. Turn every courtroom cover into a public syllabus: transparent reasons, readable judgments, accountability writ in footnotes and public records. Make the institutions bleed truth, not people.
To end illiteracy in justice, let every citizen wield the pen.
Let the hyenas come. Let the baraza be noisy.
Let society test the crown every morning until the judges can point, with open hands and clear reasons, and say:
“Here is the flame.”
Until then, press the grass. Let the crown be tried in daylight. Let the fire prove itself true.
✍️ Dedication
This blog is dedicated to all prisoners, present and past, of conscience, self-expression, and free speech: Male Mabirizi Kiwanuka, Ivan Samuel Sebadduka J, and Isaac K. Ssemakadde (SC), President of the Uganda Law Society, for executing a civic duty tragically confused with contempt of court.
Contempt must be reserved for direct obstruction of justice, not as a cudgel to discipline ridicule. Imprisoning insult and mockery is to forget the nature and source of judicial power: the people’s consent.
May the Good Lord bless and protect you all. And may we witness, in our lifetime, thick-skinned judicial officers who treat insults with nothing more than “a wry smile,” as aptly put twenty-five years ago by the eminent British jurist, Lord Justice Simon Brown.
The author is a member of the inaugural Judiciary Affairs Committee of the Uganda Law Society.
DISCLAIMER: This Blog is not a call for mob justice, chaos or disorder against our beloved holders of judicial power and other public power, it is brutal and defiant reminder that illegitimate conduct leads to a withdrawal of respect from the very owners of the power and attracts criminal and administrative sanctions, some as grave as removal from office. It is also to encourage the clean and disciplined judicial officers to continue upholding the consent of the people for them to administer justice by upholding the stoic pillars of legitimacy first mentioned in this Blog, and that with or without climbing the career ladder, God, the original designer of justice will be the ultimate one to reward their efforts both now and in the afterlife.
This blog is not intended to be used as legal advice, and the author denies liability for use of the contents herein as legal advice. Readers are encouraged to consult a licensed Advocate to give them specialised advice and representation.
For feedbacks and comments: ambrosenen@gmail.com.
References.
For further reading or references. I consulted the following books.
1. Politics as a Vocation (Politik als Beruf) by Max Weber
2. Second Treatise of Government” by John Locke.
3. The Social Contract” (Du contrat social) by Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
4. Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance” by James C. Scott.
When Dr. Solomon Kimera logged onto Twitter that morning, stethoscope probably still warm from ward rounds, he didn’t just post—he detonated.
One tweet about fibroids. Another swipe at tight pants and infertility. That was all it took.
Credit: Dr. Solomon Kimera’s X(formerly Twitter) post on his handle.
Boom.
Searches for “fibroids” surged. Men quietly retired their skinny jeans. Women hit the group chats first, then stormed clinics, fists full of questions. The Uganda Medical Council blinked. Then it panicked.
The backlash was volcanic. Petitions. Think-pieces. Firestorms of quote tweets yelling “misogyny!” and “strip his license!”
But something strange was happening in the noise. Beneath the outrage, something cracked open.
Because if Uganda starts policing how doctors speak—even when they sound like trolls—it’s not just Dr. Solo’s voice on the line. It’s the Constitution’s, too.
Uganda’s Article 29(1)(a) wasn’t crafted to protect polished speeches in well-lit auditoriums. It’s there for the street fights. For the blunders. For the provocateurs.
Back in 2004, Charles Onyango-Obbo v. Attorney General reminded us that true freedom of expression includes the right to shock, offend, and disturb.
Not just the right to say things people agree with—but the right to spark discomfort.
By that measure, Dr. Solo’s tweet wasn’t just protected—it was a public health campaign. It was a major public health intervention that no health ministry, world over has achieved with the highest budgetary allocation and human personnel muscle can achieve. It least, judging from history.
Credit: Dr. Solomon Kimera alias Dr. Solo’s X (formerly Twitter) post, which indicted a massive success of his radical method of delivery health concerns.
Still, legal protection doesn’t mean emotional immunity. Especially not for the women silently bleeding through extra pads at work, miscarrying dreams they never told anyone about, misdiagnosed by doctors who didn’t bother to look deeper.
So yes, his tone was brutal. Clinical. Even smug. But for some, it was the first time fibroids had been acknowledged in public—not as a whisper, but as a national scream.
Because before this, fibroids were the disease of euphemisms.
Just “that pain.” Just “heavy flow.” Just something women dealt with.
And then one loud, reckless doctor barged into the room with no filter and said what nobody else would.
Ugly, yes. But effective.
That kind of disruption—messy, jarring, necessary—is often where real change begins. Hell yes. Hippocrati’s oath binds doctor to treat you, save your life. That’s granted. The oath doesn’t bind the medics to decorum per se.
True feminism doesn’t need everyone to speak gently. It needs people to speak honestly. And if we start silencing dissent because it doesn’t sound like a TED Talk, we’re just building a quieter version of the same old oppression.
Doctors aren’t priests. They’re not politicians. They shouldn’t be expected to sugarcoat clinical truth just to stay “professional.”
If polite pamphlets and decroum protocols worked, fibroids wouldn’t still be Uganda’s shadow epidemic—affecting nearly 20% women, many of them untreated, misdiagnosed, or dismissed.
To verify these figures, at least for the Ugandan context, read here
This isn’t about defending one man’s ego. It’s about defending the right to say uncomfortable things that might save lives.
So maybe instead of cancelling Dr. Solo, we do something harder.
We ask: Why did this tweet land so hard? Why aren’t women being listened to unless someone shocks us into hearing them?
Then we turn that chaos into something real: – Fund public education. – Train doctors to listen, not just lecture. – Create space where pain isn’t minimized by decency codes.
We don’t need fewer voices. We need louder ones—with better tools, better data, and better empathy.
One rogue tweet woke up a country. Imagine what a thousand coordinated voices could do.
Maybe he was reckless. Maybe he was rude. But maybe, just maybe, he struck a nerve we’d been ignoring too long.
Say what you want about the man. Just don’t pretend this didn’t matter.
Fibroids are finally on the national radar. And it took a troll doctor with Twitter fingers to get us there.
The author is a Rule of law enthusiast, a practicing Advocate in Ugandan Courts of Judicature, a free speech Advocate and a member of the inaugural Judiciary Affairs Committee of the Uganda Law Society.
Disclaimer: The author does not endorse or encourage misogyny and other forms of violation of women’s rights. The views expressed here are purely to spark public discourse and public health awareness drives for the greater good of the whole society, women inclusive.
The Blog is for purely public discourse and is not intended to serve as a substitute for professional legal advice.
Readers are strongly encouraged to seek the services of professional legal personal for situation specific advice. No liability is accepted for harm that arises from using information contained in this Blog as a substitute for professional legal advice.
Do you have comments or feedback for us, please leave them in the comment section or reach out to us at: ambrosenen@gmail.com | 256 789856805
Uganda’s legal system has long been a fortress of impunity. For decades, it has survived every attempt at reform—not by improving, but by dismantling anyone who dares to fix it.
Enter Isaac Ssemakadde, Uganda Law Society (ULS) President.
His mission? To drag the legal profession out of the mud, rebuild public trust, and hold the entire system accountable.
His first strike? Kicking the Attorney General off the ULS Governing Council. Why? Because how does a government’s top lawyer sit in the governing body of an institution meant to be an independent watchdog? It was a classic case of conflict of interest, and Ssemakadde terminated it.
Image: Isaac K Ssemakade. Photo Credit: Insight Post Uganda
His second move? Recalling all unelected ULS representatives to the Judicial Service Commission (JSC)—a body meant to discipline errant judges. For too long, these positions had been filled by handpicked placeholders who were cozy with the very Judiciary they were supposed to regulate.
Then, the nuclear option—a ULS-led Public Commission of Inquiry into the entire Bench.
That was the moment the Judiciary declared war.
A full-scale investigation into judicial corruption, impunity, and accountability? The Judiciary saw what was coming—a public trial of the very system that has shielded the powerful for decades.
And so, they struck first.
A High Court Judge—who, it has been reported, was allegedly involved in sexual harassment allegations—injuncted the entire process and had Ssemakadde convicted of contempt of court with a two-year jail sentence.
Yes, you read that right.
A judge in a case where he was allegedly the victim, presiding over a trial that could expose him, convicted the man leading the movement for reform.
The Judiciary had gone into full-blown self-preservation mode.
And while Uganda’s legal system was busy eating its own, something very different was unfolding in the UK.
A Ugandan judge—Justice Lydia Mugambe—was convicted.
And suddenly, Uganda got a front-row seat to what real judicial accountability looks like.
No judicial gymnastics. No vanishing case files. No presidential interference.
Just a judge facing the law like any other citizen.
And here’s the real kicker—the UK wasn’t just convicting a judge.
They were sending a message.
Uganda’s human rights record had rotted beyond acceptable limits.
Opposition National Unity Platform (NUP) supporters were reportedly tortured, arbitrarily detained, and held without trial. The UK had already slapped sanctions on key Ugandan officials. And now, Uganda’s backdoor diplomatic channels in London were reportedly frozen.
Word on the street? NUP had played quiet but strategic backdoor diplomacy, exposing Uganda’s entrenched impunity to the UK foreign office—and the UK listened.
This wasn’t just about Mugambe.
It was Uganda being held accountable—one way or another.
Because in Uganda, justice serves the powerful. In the UK, it serves the law.
And so, as Judge Mugambe awaits sentencing on May 2nd, 2025, we extend our best wishes.
Not because of what she did or didn’t do, but because this entire mess is a reflection of a broken system back home.
The Hon. Lady Justice Lydia Mugambe. Photo Credit: Daily monitor
To all who still believe in the Rule of Law—even as the system crushes them—we see you.
To the ULS candidates still battling for election to represent ULS to the JSC—who have outspent resources in what was supposed to be a simple election, but turned into a never-ending war—hold strong.
The Judiciary stalled the election, an appeal halted the process, and yet—hope refuses to die.
Because one day, impunity will fall.
And when it does, it won’t be because of backroom deals.
It will be because of the fearless ones—those who refused to let injustice win.
And when that day comes, we won’t just be telling the story. We will be living it.
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this blog are based on publicly available reports and sources. Allegations mentioned are unverified and are referred to as they have been reported. This post is an opinion piece aimed at encouraging dialogue and reflection on the issues discussed. The cases mentioned are subject to ongoing legal processes and investigations, and the information presented is intended for general awareness rather than legal conclusions.
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The Supreme Court has spoken. The revolution has won. The military courts are finished. It took 25 years of legal battles, endless delays, and the relentless fire of Uganda’s most radical legal minds, but justice has finally arrived. And when it came, it wasn’t subtle. It came with the full force of the Constitution, a gavel so loud it could shake the foundations of every military courtroom still pretending to be a temple of justice.
This is not just a legal victory; it is a demolition job on a long-standing abuse of power. It is the final nail in the coffin for a system that has for decades terrorized civilians, dragging them before military tribunals as if they were rogue soldiers, silencing dissent under the guise of national security. And the Supreme Court? Oh, the Supreme Court delivered its judgment with flair, with humor, and with the kind of clarity that leaves no room for debate.
Chief Justice Owiny-Dollo, ever the master of courtroom theatre, laid it all bare in ways that had the entire legal fraternity both laughing and nodding in agreement. Imagine a Uganda where he, a civilian, is picked to lead a military brigade to guard the war-torn eastern border with the DRC. Imagine him, clad in combat gear, barking orders to soldiers while probably asking them which way to point a gun. Or worse—picture him in a hospital theatre, standing over an unconscious patient, scalpel in hand, completely clueless about whether he’s holding a kidney or a liver. Madness, right? Exactly. That, he said, is the absurdity of putting untrained military officers in charge of dispensing justice.
This was the point where even the most rigid courtroom observer had to chuckle. But beneath the humor was a devastating truth: military courts are tribunals run by people without the first clue about judicial procedure, yet they have spent years presiding over cases, handing down life sentences and convictions like they were distributing rations at a military mess. The Chief Justice didn’t mince his words. The Constitution was clear, and so was the Court—military justice is for military personnel, period. Civilians have no business being tried there.
And yet, as the judgment was delivered, there was another remarkable moment. Counsel Caleb Alaka, one of Uganda’s legal firebrands, stood up and did something few saw coming—he apologized. On behalf of the Uganda Law Society, he expressed regret for the extreme activism, the relentless pressure, the public letters, the weekly legal firebombs the Radical New Bar had been hurling at the Supreme Court, demanding action. The judges listened, some perhaps amused, others with the quiet satisfaction of warriors who had just emerged victorious in a long and bloody intellectual battle.
The apology was sincere, but let’s be honest—this war was necessary. The Radical New Bar, under the fearless and uncompromising leadership of Isaac K. Ssemakadde, fought like hell to make this ruling happen. The legal establishment had long grown too comfortable, too resigned to waiting indefinitely for judgments while civilians continued to be dragged before military tribunals. The RNB was having none of it. Weekly press conferences, legal activism so sharp it cut through the silence, direct challenges to judicial inertia—this was lawfare at its finest. And in the end, the pressure worked.
The judgment is now out, and the message is clear: no more military courts for civilians. No more kangaroo justice. No more legal intimidation. If the army wants to try someone, that person better be wearing a uniform. Otherwise, they belong in the courts of law established by the Constitution. And for those still clinging to the old ways, still hoping that military justice can be used as a tool of fear and suppression? Pack up your case files. Your era is over.
For the Uganda People’s Defence Forces, the ruling leaves no room for negotiation. Civilians currently facing trial in military courts must be released. Every ongoing case must be dropped. Any attempt to defy this ruling will not just be illegal—it will be suicidal. The ULS and the RNB are watching. The Supreme Court is watching. And the Ugandan people, tired of impunity, will not tolerate another second of this nonsense.
Parliament? Time to clean house. The UPDF Act needs to be amended—immediately. Those loopholes that allowed military courts to overstep their jurisdiction must be sealed permanently. No more ambiguity, no more exploitation of civilians through legal gymnastics. This ruling has set the standard, now it’s up to lawmakers to ensure the law reflects it. And the Executive? The President, the Attorney General, the Director of Public Prosecutions—they need to act. Not tomorrow, not next week. Now.
For those who still think this is just another ruling, another judgment to be ignored or manipulated—think again. This is the beginning of a new era. The days when military courts were used as tools of intimidation are gone. The days when civilians had to fear being hauled before unqualified military judges who don’t know the difference between fair trial rights and a parade drill are gone. This is what victory looks like.
Uganda’s legal profession will never be the same. The Supreme Court has reaffirmed its place in history. The Radical New Bar has cemented its reputation as the most effective force for legal accountability in modern Uganda. And the Constitution? It has won. The rule of law has won. Justice has won.
Enen Ambrose is a Rule of Law enthusiast and a supporter of the firebrand president of the Uganda Law Society, Isaac K Ssemakade.
Disclaimer: This write up is for informational purposes only and should not be taken as a substitute for professional legal advice. Readers are advised to seek the services of a qualified attorney in their area of Jurisdiction for situation specific legal advice and course of action.
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Rtd Col. Dr. Kiza Besigye. Photo credit: Wikipedia
The refusal by the Uganda Law Council to grant Martha Karua, a distinguished Senior Counsel from Kenya, a temporary practicing license to represent Dr. Kizza Besigye in his ongoing trial before Uganda’s General Court Martial has raised significant concerns in my mind about Uganda’s legal system, regional cooperation, and political interference. In this post, I will break down my perspective on why this decision is problematic, critiquing the reasons provided by the Law Council and exploring the broader implications it has for both Uganda and the East African Community (EAC) at large.
Background Context: The Case of Dr. Kizza Besigye
Dr. Kizza Besigye, one of Uganda’s leading opposition figures, was invited to Nairobi by Martha Karua for a book launch. During this event, Besigye was allegedly found with a firearm in his hotel room, which led to his controversial extradition back to Uganda. This case is more than just a legal matter; it raises important issues surrounding Kenya’s sovereignty, extradition laws, and the treatment of political figures within the region. Besigye’s trial before the General Court Martial has been heavily scrutinized, especially in light of the Supreme Court’s recent stay of a ruling by the Constitutional Court in the case of Michael Kabaziguruka v. Attorney General (Constitutional Petition No. 45 of 2016), which had declared that military courts in Uganda have no jurisdiction to try civilians.
The refusal to grant Karua a temporary license, made by the Uganda Law Council, appears to be a politically charged decision, occurring against the backdrop of these ongoing legal and political tensions. As a legal professional, I find this decision troubling, particularly when considering the broader implications for regional integration and the rule of law in Uganda.
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The Reasons Cited by the Law Council for Denial
The Uganda Law Council gave several reasons for denying Martha Karua a temporary license to practice law in Uganda for Besigye’s defense. Let’s examine these reasons critically and reflect on the potential political undertones and legal inconsistencies involved.
1. Lack of Notarized Documents The Law Council argued that Karua’s application was incomplete because it lacked notarized copies of her practicing certificate, a letter of good standing, nationality documents, and academic qualifications.
My View: This is a procedural issue that could have been easily remedied. Rather than outright denying the application, the Law Council could have requested the missing documents or offered Karua an opportunity to rectify the deficiencies. This decision to deny her based on minor technicalities rather than facilitating her compliance reflects poor administrative practice. A lawyer of Karua’s stature should not be obstructed by such minor procedural issues.
2. Absence of a Valid Practicing Certificate for Erias Lukwago Another reason cited for the refusal was that Karua’s local sponsor, Erias Lukwago, did not have a valid practicing certificate. This was apparently a reason for not processing the application.
My View: The idea that Karua’s application should be rejected because Lukwago did not provide a valid practicing certificate is misguided. Upon reviewing the Judiciary website, it is clear that Erias Lukwago has an active practicing certificate for 2024. The Law Council could have simply verified this information rather than using this as a reason to deny Karua’s application. The failure to make such a simple verification indicates either an oversight or an intentional attempt to complicate the process. This was an avoidable technicality that should not have been used as grounds for denial.
3. No Special Expertise Brought by Karua The Law Council claimed that Karua did not bring any special skills that Uganda’s legal community lacked, suggesting that her involvement in the case was unnecessary.
My View: This argument is deeply problematic. The client has a fundamental right to choose their lawyer, and Karua’s expertise was specifically sought by Dr. Besigye. Her representation was not about fulfilling some special legal need that Ugandan lawyers couldn’t address but rather about providing the client with a lawyer of their choice. This rationale dismisses the right of a person to have the legal representation they feel is best suited to their case. The Council’s argument undermines not only Besigye’s right to choose but also the principles of justice and fairness.
4. Political Undertones The Law Council expressed concerns about the political nature of the case, suggesting that Karua’s involvement was motivated by politics, given her association with Besigye and her public stance as an advocate for democracy and human rights.
My View: This is where I find the decision most troubling. The role of the Law Council is not to pass judgment on the political affiliations of individuals involved in legal proceedings but to ensure that justice is served. Karua’s political opinions or affiliations should have no bearing on the decision to allow her to practice temporarily. The Council’s decision seems to be a veiled attempt to politically sideline a lawyer based on her association with a political opponent of the government. This kind of interference in legal matters not only compromises the integrity of the Law Council but also undermines the fairness of the trial itself.
5. Conduct Before Approval Karua was accused of “holding out” as an advocate before her application had been approved, due to her presence at the court proceedings.
My View: Karua made it clear that she was attending the proceedings as a visiting jurist awaiting approval. She did not mislead the court or claim to be practicing without a license. The accusation seems to be an exaggeration, designed to discredit her professional integrity. This accusation, made without substantiation, adds to the sense that the Law Council was looking for any excuse to deny her application.
6. Logistical Constraints of the Law Council The Law Council mentioned that it could not expedite the application process due to its members’ full-time commitments in other roles, making it difficult to process Karua’s application on time.
My View: This is a failure of institutional management rather than a valid reason to deny an application. If the Law Council is unable to manage the process in a timely manner, it speaks to the need for reform within the institution. A delay caused by the Council’s own logistical constraints should not serve as a reason to deny an individual the right to practice law in Uganda, especially in a case of such significance.
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The Double Standards of the Law Council
One of the most glaring inconsistencies in this case is the selective application of the Law Council’s rules regarding foreign lawyers. Historical precedents show that the Council has granted temporary licenses to foreign lawyers when it suits the political interests of the government. For instance:
John Khaminwa, a Kenyan lawyer, was allowed to represent President Museveni in a high-profile election petition before the Ugandan Supreme Court in 2001.
Jim Gash, an American lawyer, was granted a temporary license to represent a client in Uganda, working on juvenile justice reform.
These instances clearly demonstrate that the Law Council is capable of granting temporary licenses to foreign lawyers when it is politically convenient. However, when it comes to a case involving a prominent opposition figure like Dr. Besigye, the same flexibility is not applied. This selective approach casts doubt on the impartiality of the Law Council and raises questions about whether political considerations played a role in the denial of Karua’s application.
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The Regional and International Implications
The refusal to grant Karua a temporary practicing license also raises important questions about Uganda’s commitment to regional integration. The East African Community (EAC) Treaty and its protocols, including the Mutual Recognition Agreement (MRA), emphasize the free movement of professionals across member states, including legal practitioners. By denying Karua’s application, Uganda is in direct contradiction of these commitments, which could harm the spirit of regional cooperation that the EAC seeks to foster.
Uganda’s actions appear to undermine the EAC’s goal of facilitating the free movement of labor and professional services. This decision is particularly paradoxical given President Museveni’s strong advocacy for regional integration. If Uganda continues to place political barriers in the way of legal professionals from other EAC member states, it risks isolating itself from the very integration processes that Museveni has long championed.
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The Uganda Law Society’s Advocacy for Reform
In response to the Law Council’s decision, the Uganda Law Society (ULS) has rightly condemned the denial of Karua’s application as per incuriam—legally flawed. The ULS has also called for reforms to ensure that such decisions are made impartially, without political interference. Some members of the ULS have even gone so far as to advocate for the abolition of the Law Council altogether, citing its growing susceptibility to political pressure and inefficiency in handling applications for foreign lawyers.
I fully support this call for reform. The Law Council, and indeed all legal institutions, must operate with full independence, free from political influence. The integrity of Uganda’s legal system depends on the ability of lawyers to perform their duties without fear of political repercussions. The Law Council’s decision in Karua’s case demonstrates the need for urgent reform to ensure that legal institutions are better equipped to serve the principles of justice impartially.
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My Call for Reform and Conclusion
In conclusion, the Uganda Law Council’s decision to deny Martha Karua a temporary practicing license is not just a legal misstep but also a reflection of broader issues within Uganda’s legal system. The refusal to grant the license based on procedural technicalities, political undertones, and double standards casts doubt on the impartiality and fairness of the decision-making process. Furthermore, it contradicts Uganda’s commitments to regional integration and the free movement of professionals within the East African Community
About author:
ENEN AMBROSE
The author is a Rule of Law enthusiast working at M/S Okurut-Magara Associated Advocates in the up country Town of Adjumani.
DISCLAIMER: all information in this blog is for general knowledge and educational purposes and is not intended to provide legal advice. Readers are encouraged to seek qualified attorneys in their areas of Jurisdiction for situation specific legal advice and courses of action.
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