Redefining Africa's Future

Dear Honorable Akol and Mapenduzi,   I write to you not only as members of Parliament but as sons of Acholi, a region that has endured significant poverty and underdevelopment under the current regime. Recent news reports have suggested that you both have defected to the National Resistance Movement (NRM) party. However, some of your critics claim that you both joined the NRM some time ago and that it is only now that you have made your defection public. Whether this defection occurred recently or some time ago, I believe it is a moment that deserves reflection, especially for two individuals who have long been part of the Acholi people’s struggle.   For decades, the Acholi people have faced unimaginable suffering. From the brutal retaliatory killings by the NRA after Museveni took power in 1986 to the devastating war between the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) and the Ugandan government, our people have endured. The IDP camps meant to provide security, turned into traps ...

On 11 February 2024, the Uganda National Examinations Board (UNEB) released the 2024 Uganda Certificate of Education (UCE) results under the competency-based curriculum, sparking a wave of reactions across the country. The new system emphasizes skills, values, and real-life applications of knowledge, aiming to foster competencies like critical thinking, problem-solving, creativity, and communication. While this curriculum represents a shift from the old focus on rote memorization and theoretical knowledge, it left many reflecting on the past educational journey. On the eve of the results release, I spoke with an old friend whose younger brother, I assumed, had sat for the 2024 UCE exams. When I asked about his performance, I learned that the young man hadn't been in school for two years. My friend had been paying his fees, but two years ago, his brother had squandered his school fees on a reckless lifestyle, leading my friend to cut financial support. Now, the boy lived in the vill...

Back then, school in Uganda wasn’t quite the same as today. Some students were much older than us in primary school, and I’m talking much older. Some of the “boys” in the upper primary classes in my school had wives, kids, and their own houses but were still stuck in primary school. It wasn’t uncommon to hear some of them being called ‘won boy’ in the Acholi language, a polite way of referring to someone who has fathered a son. One of these characters was Labongo. He hailed from St. Mary’s Lacor, a small town about 6 kilometers West of Gulu town in Uganda. Labongo was way older than us but was in Primary Three class with us at Christ the King Demonstration Primary School. He was an absolute nightmare.   Labongo would show up to class in football boots—screws and all. You’d expect to see the kind of shoes on a soccer field, not in a classroom. I’m not sure if he knew any better or couldn’t afford proper shoes, but those boots were his weapon. They weren’t just for kicking balls;...

Growing up, life wasn't exactly straightforward. I lost my dad when I was seven, and my mom, a teacher, did her best to raise me and my siblings. We lived in two tiny grass tukuls at the school where she worked. I didn't realize how poor we were until I came of age. Everyone around us at the time was poor, and while things weren't always easy, we got by.   But one thing that made school particularly tough for me was bullying. I have big eyes, and kids loved to point that out. "You look like a frog!" "You've got owl eyes!" It was harsh, and every time they said it, I felt smaller and smaller. I was always sad, and the last thing I wanted to do was go to school. My mom didn't fully understand the weight of what I was going through. She had a lot on her plate, trying to care for four kids while teaching full-time. I didn't think my mother could do anything to help my situation, so I kept it all inside.   But there were days when the bull...

Managing a team in conflict zones can be a different ball game depending on the context and organization. Forget about the usual office politics or the daily "Did you sign the form?" issues. Here, firing someone can quickly escalate from an HR matter to something that threatens your safety. Sometimes, doing the right thing requires extreme care, balancing the organisation's policies and the reality of working in a volatile environment.   My adventure in South Sudan started with a lot of unsolicited advice. Before coming to South Sudan, a colleague I met in Cape Town said, "If you want to survive in South Sudan, stay away from South Sudanese women." Another added, "Only drink bottled water." But the one warning that stuck with me was from a friend who had worked in the region. He said, "Stay clear of firing Staff. In South Sudan, terminating someone's contract can be dangerous." At the time, I didn't fully grasp the depth of this a...

Working in South Sudan taught me lessons about power, authority, and survival that I'll never forget. Some moments were uncomfortable, others eye-opening, but all were crucial in helping me understand working in the context of conflict.   Growing up in Uganda in the 1990s, my view of soldiers was shaped by fear. Soldiers were figures of authority who couldn't be questioned. I remember the violence of the National Resistance Army (NRA) and later the Uganda People's Defense Forces (UPDF) in northern Uganda. They were often brutal and showed little regard for civilians' rights.   This fear of soldiers stayed with me as I got older. In 2015, I took a Hostile Environment Awareness Training (HEAT) course in South Africa, where the trainer made one thing very clear: "The man or woman with a gun makes the rules." The message was simple: when dealing with soldiers, you obey.   When I arrived in South Sudan in 2015, I found myself in a situation that would challenge eve...

When I landed in Kuajok, Warrap State, South Sudan, in March 2015, I had no idea what awaited me. The project I was stepping into, funded by the World Bank, was meant to improve local governance and service delivery. However, instead of having a project ready to launch, I faced many problems. It was months behind schedule, underperforming, and the team I was inheriting seemed just as lost as the project itself.   As a young manager with little field experience in a place like South Sudan, the pressure was intense. To make matters worse, I had no laptop, proper induction, and little information on the work so far. The first quarterly report was fast approaching, and there was nothing to report. The task seemed insurmountable, and I felt the weight of everyone's expectations resting on my shoulders. But panic wasn't an option. I knew I had to find a way to turn things around.   I drew on lessons from my previous job with the Norwegian Refugee Council, where I worked unde...