Compressing the
sweeping timeline of a nation's history into a single volume is no easy feat,
even for a relatively young state. Authors are constantly forced to make tough
editorial decisions about where to begin, what to emphasise, and what to omit.
In A Political History of Uganda, historian Samwiri Rubaraza Karugire
presents a concise, systematic overview that successfully distils the country's
complex political evolution into under 200 readable pages.
A Pre-Colonial
Tapestry of Interconnection
Rather than treating
Uganda's pre-colonial societies as isolated entities that were only united by
British intervention, Karugire opens the book by establishing their deep-seated
interdependence. He traces historical interactions across both centralised
kingdoms—such as Buganda, Nkore, Toro, and Bunyoro-Kitara—and non-kingdom
societies in areas like Kigezi, Acholi, and Lango.
Through examples like
the regional salt trade from Bunyoro-Kitara and the grand migrations of Luo
groups, Karugire illustrates a vibrant pre-colonial regional economy and social
symbiosis. This foundation is critical: it demonstrates that these societies
shared intertwined histories long before colonial borders were drawn, while
highlighting how colonial rule ultimately interrupted their organic
development.
Buganda as the
Pivotal Axis
As the narrative
approaches the late 19th century, Karugire shifts significant focus toward the
Kingdom of Buganda. Because Buganda served as the geographic and administrative
nucleus from which the British built the modern Ugandan state, its internal developments
heavily influenced the rest of the territory. The text details how local
developments, including the religious civil wars, the introduction of
Christianity, and the pivotal 1900 Uganda Agreement, shaped the surrounding
regions and laid the framework for the emerging political economy.
The Colonial Era
and the Path to Institutional Crisis
Moving into the 20th
century, the book examines how early colonial policies created structural
fractures that would later haunt the independent nation. Karugire analyses:
The Political Economy: How colonial administrative structures
created regional disparities and influenced socio-economic growth.
Nationalist Movements & Party
Politics: The rise of
early political parties (such as the DP, UPC, and Kabaka Yekka), exploring
their internal frictions, strategic blunders, and missed opportunities for
unity.
Decolonisation: The institution of the Legislative
Council (LegCo) during the 1950s and the complex political manoeuvring
leading to independence.
Post-Independence Instability: The rapid escalation of executive tension
that culminated in the 1966 Buganda Crisis, the 1967 constitution
abrogation, and Milton Obote's shift toward authoritarianism and a
one-party state.
The narrative
culminates with the 1971 military coup that brought Idi Amin to power.
Published in 1980 just after Amin's fall, the book intentionally stops at this
turning point, recognising that the post-1971 era marked the beginning of an
entirely different structural epoch in Ugandan history.
Verdict
At roughly 197 pages
of core text, A Political History of Uganda avoids dense jargon in favour
of an accessible, highly structured narrative. Written in the late 1970s,
Karugire’s analysis carries an objective tone uncoloured by more recent
political developments. For anyone seeking a foundational narrative of Uganda's
journey from pre-colonial interregional trade to modern statehood, Karugire’s
work remains an essential starting point.
Sometime around 1870, Omugabe Mutambuka, the ruler of Nkore Kingdom, died. His death triggered what would become the longest and bloodiest succession war in Nkore's royal history.
That war eventually brought Ntare V to the throne, but it lasted three years, and by the end, the Nkore royal family had been torn apart and almost destroyed. The effects of that succession struggle would haunt Ntare throughout his reign, which ended in 1895.
Context
In Nkore, succession disputes were common; in fact, they were almost the norm. Rarely did a prince have the support of all his brothers and uncles to become king.
However, Mutambuka had been one of the exceptions. His own rise to power met little resistance, and for most of his reign, it seemed his eldest son, Bacwa, would also have a fairly straightforward path to the throne. Bacwa appeared to have everything: military standing, a loyal following among fighting men, and the respect that came with being the first-born son. By tradition and expectation, the throne seemed to be his.
But that never happened.
During a drunken quarrel, Bacwa killed his cousin. The dead man was the son of Kibangura, Mutambuka's sister, and she never forgave him. Kibangura pressured Mutambuka to banish Bacwa from the kingdom.
Bacwa first went to Mpororo, from where he later made his way to Rwanda. There, he was killed, allegedly by Kibangura's agents.
But Kibangura did not stop there. She demanded that Mutambuka have Bacwa's eldest son, Rukamisa, killed as compensation for the death of her own son. Mutambuka agreed because at the time, he did not know that Bacwa had already been killed in Rwanda.
So by the time Mutambuka finally died, Bacwa's line had been shattered. But it had not completely disappeared. One of Bacwa's surviving sons was a young man named Ntare. At that point, nobody thought much of him.
The War Begins
With Bacwa out of the picture, the real fight was between Mutambuka's surviving sons.
On one side was Rukongyi, who had actually adopted the young Ntare. Rukongyi was supported by several princes, including Makumbi, Nkuranga, and Gandiga.
On the other side was Mukwenda. He was strongly backed by his younger brother, Muhikira.
Most of the other princes supported Rukongyi. One reason appears to be that many people associated Bacwa's misfortunes with Mukwenda's side. But others were afraid of what Rukongyi's camp might do if it won. They feared revenge.
The spark that started the war was a murder that broke every rule and norm around the death of an Nkore king. After Mutambuka's death, the royal purification rites were supposed to be sacred. It was a time when violence was forbidden. But during those rites, one of Mukwenda's supporters killed Rukongyi.
Rukongyi's supporters were shocked. The leadership of their faction then passed to Makumbi, Rukongyi's younger brother.
Makumbi made a decision. He would retreat towards Kabula, near the Buganda border, and try to secure outside support.
The Trap
But Makumbi did not know that Mukwenda had moved faster. Mukwenda had reached out to the Baganda first, and he had won them over to his side.
Makumbi's party then met Mukasa, the chief of Buddu. Mukasa had been sent by Kabaka Muteesa. Makumbi and his followers believed they were meeting an ally.
Mukasa gave them a warm welcome. He invited Makumbi and the leading princes into a large house. The house had been built specifically for the meeting. It was presented as a place for a peace ceremony — a blood-brotherhood ritual, a sacred bond between allies.
But behind the walls of that house, there was a trap. The walls had been lined with bark cloth. And behind that bark cloth, armed men were hiding, waiting.
Makumbi's party were politely asked to leave their spears outside. After all, they were told, this was a ceremony of peace. You do not bring weapons into a ceremony of peace. The request seemed reasonable, so they complied without hesitation. They left their spears outside. Then they walked in.
And that is when Mukasa's men attacked.
The hidden men fell on them the moment the doors closed. What had been presented as a gathering of peace became a massacre. Seventy-eight people were murdered. Many of them were of royal blood.
The Aftermath
The Kabula massacre almost destroyed the anti-Mukwenda cause entirely. The senior princes were gone. The military leaders were gone. Many royal partisans who had committed themselves to the fight were also gone. And those who survived were in shock.
Nkuranga and Gandiga, both sons of Mutambuka, were legitimate claimants in their own right. But they lost heart. They considered abandoning the struggle altogether. And by doing so, they effectively surrendered their claims to the throne.
Ntare did not.
He was younger. He belonged to the next generation. By strict seniority, he was not the obvious choice. But he was the only one still willing to fight.
His claim also had real weight. He was the son of Bacwa, the prince many believed would have become king if he had lived. Ntare had also been adopted by Rukongyi, which connected him directly to the defeated claimant whose following he now inherited. And above all, Ntare was still standing when everyone else seemed ready to give up and flee into exile. To his supporters, that courage mattered more than birth order.
There was also something personal driving him. By fighting Mukwenda, Ntare was not only seeking the throne — he was avenging his father. This was both a succession war and a blood feud.
The Road to the Throne
But the road to the throne was not smooth.
After Kabula, Ntare's battered party returned home to Nkore. They camped in what is now Kashongyi, in Kiruhura District. Mukwenda attacked them there. The battle was intense, the casualties were heavy, and Ntare barely escaped with only a handful of followers. He regrouped. Then he tried to rebuild.
Mukwenda again turned to deceit. He persuaded one of Ntare's servants to give him poisoned beer. Ntare became gravely ill. Before Ntare had recovered, Mukwenda attacked the camp. His forces scattered Ntare's party with ease. Again, Ntare barely escaped. He fled to Buhweju. There, he was treated, and eventually he recovered from the poisoning.
After recovering, Ntare returned to the struggle. He settled at Mugoye, in present-day Ibanda. Once again, he tried to consolidate his position. But Mukwenda soon attacked. This time, the battle was decisive.
The fighting was bitter. The casualties were heavy on both sides. But by the end of the battle, Mukwenda was dead. His brother Muhikira was also dead. The succession war was over. Ntare had won.
What He Inherited
But what exactly had he won?
Not a united kingdom. Not a realm that had peacefully chosen him. Ntare inherited a society consumed by murder, betrayal, and civil war. The royal family had been torn apart. Most of Mutambuka's sons and many of the kingdom's leading princes were dead. Subjects had fought on opposite sides. Families carried memories of relatives killed by fellow Banyankore. Ntare had won because he was the last credible fighter still standing — not because the kingdom had calmly accepted him.
His real achievement came after the war. He held Nkore together through the exhaustion that follows catastrophe. Later, he expanded the kingdom's frontiers through raids on neighbouring peoples, which showed his regime had recovered enough strength to act outwardly.
But the foundation remained fragile. The civil war had consumed most of the ruling class. Nearly every senior prince who might have provided stability, succession options, or internal balance was gone.
Closing Thoughts
Ntare's throne was won through endurance. It was won through war. But the price was severe.
A kingdom survived. A ruler emerged. But Nkore's royal house had nearly destroyed itself to put him there.
120 years ago, on the evening of May 19th, 1905, Harry St. George Galt, the
acting Sub-Commissioner of Uganda’s Western Province, sat on the verandah of a
rest house near Ibanda. Suddenly, a spear pierced his lung. Moments later, he
turned to his cook and uttered his last words: “Look, cook, a savage has
speared me.”
Galt collapsed and died instantly.
This was not just a murder. It sparked one of the earliest
and most high-profile trials in Uganda’s colonial history. A case that revealed
deep political rivalries, suspicions of conspiracy, and a mystery that has
never been fully resolved.
The Background
To understand Galt’s murder, we must go back a decade
earlier.
In 1895, the death of Ntare, king or Omugabe of Ankole, left
the Kingdom in turmoil. Three claimants struggled for the throne, cattle were
ravaged by rinderpest, and unrest spread across the kingdom.
From this chaos rose a dominant figure: Nuwa Mbaguta.
He was determined to see the young Kahaya crowned as Omugabe, with himself as Enganzi,
or chief adviser. Mbaguta secured British backing, and in 1898, a civil station
was established at Mbarara.
This move cemented Kahaya’s authority as Omugabe and
strengthened Mbaguta’s power. But it also created bitter enemies. The Ankole royal
clan, the Bahinda, saw Mbaguta as an upstart from a minor clan. Rival chiefs
remembered the exile of Igumira, their preferred contender for the throne, the
death of independent rulers like Ndagara of Buhweju, and the imposition of
unpopular taxes as the British consolidated their control over Ankole.
The British administration, represented by men like Galt,
was closely tied to these shifts in power. And that meant resentment against
colonial authority was simmering beneath the surface.
The Murder
On May 19, 1905, Galt was travelling from Fort Portal to
Mbarara. He stopped for the night at a rest camp in Ibanda.
At about 6:30 in the evening, a spear was hurled at him. He
died almost instantly.
An inquiry into the murder was quickly set up. This inquiry
first suggested revenge as a possible motive because just days before he was
murdered, Galt had ordered the hanging of a man from Toro for murder.
Could his son have retaliated?
However, there was no evidence to support this theory.
Suspicion quickly shifted toward political motives rooted in
Ankole’s rivalries.
The Wilson Inquiry
Soon after, another inquiry was set up with George Wilson,
the acting commissioner of the Uganda Protectorate, leading a thorough
investigation. Chiefs from Ankole and Toro were summoned, but he found them
evasive, secretive, and even deceptive.
At first, a peasant named Rutaraka was identified as the
killer. The spear that killed Galt was traced to him, and villagers described
him as violent, even unstable. But soon after, Rutaraka was found dead (allegedly
a suicide by hanging). Wilson doubted this. He suspected that Rutaraka was
silenced to cover up deeper involvement.
More witnesses emerged. Testimony pointed fingers at two
powerful figures: Gabrieli Rwakakaiga, the county chief of Mitooma,
where Ibanda was situated, and Isaka Nyakayaga, a dismissed official.
Witnesses claimed that Rwakakaiga had promised cattle, land,
and even chieftainships to anyone who killed a European. They said Nyakayaga
helped recruit and shelter Rutaraka. Eventually, both men were arrested and
charged with instigating the murder.
The Trial
The trial opened on October 20, 1905, at Entebbe before
Judge G. F. M. Ennis.
The accused were defended at their own expense by Byramji
Rustamji of Mombasa, whose fees were apparently paid in cattle.
The prosecution relied on five key witnesses. They testified
about conversations where Rwakakaiga and Nyakayaga supposedly incited Rutaraka
to spear Galt. However, their stories were riddled with contradictions — dates,
locations, rewards, and even the presence of witnesses varied wildly.
Still, Judge Ennis dismissed these inconsistencies as “usual
in native evidence.” He convicted both men and sentenced them to death.
However, in January 1906, the Court of Appeal for East
Africa sitting in Mombasa overturned the convictions. The judges ruled the
testimony unreliable, contradictory, and uncorroborated. Rwakakaiga and
Nyakayaga were acquitted.
One appeal judge, however, admitted to a lingering suspicion
that they had indeed instigated the murder, though this had not been
conclusively proved.
Aftermath
Despite the acquittal, colonial authorities were not
satisfied. George Wilson deported both men to Kismayu, in present-day southern
Somalia, which was part of the British East Africa Protectorate at that time.
Rwakakaiga died there ten years later. Nyakayaga was allowed to return in 1925
as long as he agreed to live in Jinja.
The Mugabe and chiefs of Ankole were fined 1100 heads of
cattle, the people of the Ankole counties of Buhweju, Buzimba and Mitooma and
the Tooro county of Kitagwenda were made to pay double poll tax for that year.
Forced labour was imposed on the people, and the Ankole Agreement was
suspended. The whole kingdom suffered collective punishment.
The murder left scars. Some said it was an act of revenge
for old injustices. Others believed it was orchestrated to undermine Mbaguta’s
power or even instigated by rivals in Toro.
Even today, the murder is still talked about, and the true
motive remains a mystery. Some still believe that Rutaraka was merely a
scapegoat, too sick to have thrown the fatal spear.
Retrospect
The trial of Galt’s murder was Uganda’s first high-profile
colonial case. It exposed the tensions between chiefs, the fragility of early
colonial justice, and the deep mistrust between the people of Ankole and their
new rulers.
But one thing is clear: the truth was never fully uncovered.
Was Galt the victim of a political conspiracy? Or just a tragic target of a random
act of vengeance?
NTV’s Sudhir Byaruhanga went undercover in a mining area, which is under
a 24-hour surveillance to lift the lid off the murky gold trade in
Mubende district
I am 39 years old and I only recently started driving, which even in a country like Uganda is a pretty late start.
You will notice I say I only recently started driving and not that I recently learnt to drive because I did learn to drive a number of years ago but for different reasons I never went behind a wheel for about 15 years.
I recently obtained my license and got myself a cheap 22 year old car and I am enjoying myself immensely.
However the point of the video is not so much that I started to drive late but why I feel this was the right time for me to start driving and why I think in some ways starting to drive later has its own advantages.
