Esther Namugoji

Found today in the archives of the Wellcome Library: Wedding photo of one of Uganda’s most fascinating women: Lady Irene Namaganda, 1914. Daughter of a clergyman, she married Kabaka Daudi Cwa, becoming the first nnabagereka of c20th Buganda.

Most buildings in hot climates are fighting heat after it enters. The best buildings stop it before it gets in. 7 shading strategies that make modern spaces feel cooler, calmer, and more breathable: 🧵

Colleagues, when you get some time, board one of these Kayoola EV Buses moving about in town. It’s just 2k and you pay via MTN & Airtel Mobile money. It’s got free WIFI and the AC is to die for. 100% recommended.

Happening now: Grand Opening of the 9th UEW at Silver Spring Hotel, Kampala. #UEA25years #UEW26 Register events.ugandaevaluationassociation.org

This is terrible. With the rapid urban developments in Uganda's new cities, all effort should be put into avoiding some of the mistakes and disasters that used to happen in Kampala city.

Today we celebrate the life of Pastor John M. Ekudu-Adoku, Dean of Students at Makerere University (1995–2010). A loyal patriot who stayed during Uganda’s turbulent years, he served as Warden, navigated student crises with wisdom, and became a father figure to thousands of alumni. Through faith and resilience, he turned challenges into stepping stones. We extend our sincerest condolences to the family. May his soul rest in eternal peace. Tribute: news.mak.ac.ug/2026/03/celebr…

Have you recently filed a tax-related complaint, or do you have a pending tax dispute with @URAuganda before us? #TaxCaseUpdates 1/3

This Wednesday on Health Q&A: Hormonal Imbalance — Are women getting the right diagnosis? Fertility experts Dr. Judith Ayikirize & Dr. Moses Batwala unpack the symptoms, misdiagnosis, and treatment options many women face. Tune in! | ⏰ 10:00AM #UBCHealth

Last night, our @KCCAUG sanitation teams worked tirelessly across the Central Business District scrubbing and washing key roads like the Grand Imperial Roundabout, removing dirt and debris to ensure a cleaner, Livable City. By morning, the exercise extended to the Non-Motorised Transport (NMT) corridor along Luwum Street and Namirembe Road. Pedestrian walkways and cycling lanes were cleaned, cab markings repainted, and the green restored to promote air quality and beauty of Kampala. Beyond the city centre, under the Weyonje campaign, we joined the community in Kasubi Parish Zones I & II for cleaning and sanitation sensitization. Together, we promoted proper waste disposal, identified full toilets needing urgent attention, and evacuated accumulated garbage, all to protect public health and dignity. I call on residents, businesses, and boda boda riders to: - Respect NMT corridor. - Dispose of waste responsibly. - Work hand-in-hand with us to keep our city clean, safe, and dignified. Together, we can build a Kampala we are all proud of.

Today we rallied everyone to come and join us to clean the city, especially downtown. We were joined by partners like Nabugabo Updeal Joint Venture, Miss Uganda Uganda — Trivia Elle Muhoza and community members as cleaned and planted trees and grass #ForALivableCity. #KCCAatWork Read the full story here kcca.go.ug/news/108

@bazanye It's funny (Not!) how this is a thing: basically, that it's okay to drive while drunk, just avoid getting caught.

Since we are helping one another, I also want to sell heroin to schoolkids and get away with that, too. Any tips, DJ Bryan?

Kabaka Anjagala Road and why it is one of the cleanest streets in Kampala. That road is not the way it is by mistake. it is by design. Former Lubaga Division Mayor Joyce Nabbosa did something. She deployed a strong enforcement team, paid them well to ensure no compromises, and set up a cell at the division offices. Real work began. If you stepped on the grass, the team would hold you for several hours: “You walked on our grass because you were rushing, let us delay you further so you learn patience and discipline.” That was the model. Community service as punishment was also available but rare. Punishments were instant. People missed appointments and cancelled plans, but they learned discipline. For bodabodas, parking, riding your motorcycle on the walkway meant it would be impounded and held until the next day. These enforcement measures extended to the community. Those working around the area were mobilised and sensitised. Step on the grass and they would call you to order immediately (if the enforcement team wasn’t around). When Joyce lost to Mawula, the latter did not retain the enforcement team. But the community kept a keen eye on the road. They know what to do. It is one of the few streets with trash bins. It is not littered. No bodabodas on pavements, no naughty pedestrians walking in the grass. If you want a photo at any of the clan monuments, everybody maintains order. Just know someone somewhere is watching and will ask why you can’t respect the order you found in place. Is this a case of people protecting what they love and cooperating because they understood the value? Or a case of strict enforcement? I think it is both. KCCA is deploying similar measures around the green zones. I only hope it work. Pay the enforcement team, they will work, they will put us to order.

@DMugumisa @nbstv The question is around how the number of votes in the provisional results surpassed the votes declared in the final announcement. It's like trying to reverse a pregnancy already showing.

Quick clarification. Through our United Media alliance, working with @nbstv Bureau Chiefs, reporters, correspondents and stringers, we had teams at every District Tally Centre nationwide. Their real-time updates fed the desk at the #NextMediaPark, so we could share district-level PROVISIONAL results as given by the respective District Returning Officers. That’s what shows in your 08:07 AM screenshot. All through, our anchors reminded viewers to wait for @UgandaEC’s official results. Your 11:56 AM screenshot is after we switched to the official EC figures as we built up to the declaration. You can spot the difference on screen: the later graphic carries the EC logo and reads “National Presidential Results”, while the earlier one is labelled “Provisional Results.” For clarity, I’ve attached the same screenshots you referenced, just in better quality from our source files.

It’s finally here! After the beautiful Carols Night on 17 December, we begin the Christmas Cantata Production: Son of God, tonight. TRAFFIC ADVISORY •⁠ ⁠Pedestrian access to the grounds is through the Old Kampala S.S.S main gate, opposite the National Mosque or through the back gate from Hoima Road. •⁠ ⁠⁠Parking available near the venue at Malibu Gardens and Victorious Primary School (Bakuli-Mengo), Full Gospel Church, Makerere and above Aga Khan Primary School on Gaddafi Road. •⁠ ⁠⁠Vehicles access parking via Hoima Road (Mengo-Nalukabye) or Sir Apolo Kaggwa Road, drive to Kyadondo Road (at Total Mengo) up to Malibu Gardens parking or Victorious Primary School. •⁠ ⁠⁠After parking at Malibu or Victorious: walk via the traffic lights (Bakuli) to Old Kampala S.S.S main gate or via Hoima Road to the back gate. Traffic guides are on the road to assist you. •⁠ ⁠⁠After parking at Aga Khan, walk via the roundabout to Old Kampala S.S.S main gate or via Hoima Road to the back gate. Traffic guides are on the road to assist you. •⁠ ⁠Parking on pavements is discouraged. •⁠ ⁠Please follow the movement direction provided by the traffic guides. #WatotoCantata #SonOfGod

The Curse Of The Kitenge, Beauty Creams, And Baskets At The African Trade Show Just done a column in .@NationAfrica on African expos/exhibitions. They are by and large an endless, soul-crushing loop of the same few things, no matter the African country. Yes, the brightly patterned (Ankara, Kitenge, Kente, Masaai blankets, Mlifa, Biskri etc) are beautiful. The hand-woven baskets are authentic. The small-batch curry powders smell wonderful. The vials of essential oils and tubs of petroleum jelly are the lifeblood of someone's honest hustle. And those ubiquitous metal pans? They are robust, they cook the beans. But let us be serious - and politically incorrect. These things, the very foundation of our informal economy, have become a beautiful, brightly coloured intellectual trap. They confirm, year after year, the narrative of the “Exotic, Developing Africa”; a continent stuck in the handicraft and primary product bracket. You walk through the halls of “Innovation” and what do you see? Not modular, locally-designed solar panels that could electrify the village, or locally-assembled lithium batteries to store the juice. You don't see affordable, locally-made diagnostic ultrasound machines or simple ventilators for our under-equipped hospitals. Where is industrial-grade PVC piping, or the high-grade fertiliser formulation that would allow us to build and feed ourselves without waiting for a container ship from Shenzhen? We are selling beautiful souvenirs, and the rest of the world is trading in assets and capabilities. We are so far down the manufacturing chain that we notice with horror we didn't even have to mention the heavy stuff: the MRI machines that see into the body or the industrial robotics that automate the factories. Until we start seeing trade expos dominated by fridge compressors, flat-screen TV displays, motherboards, and locally-engineered water purification systems, we are merely hosting a market for well-meaning tourists and not a serious trade platform. We are celebrating the past, while the future waits outside the tent, holding a power drill. And that is why we will remain at the bottom, smelling richly of shea butter and groundnuts, beautifully dressed, but perpetually borrowing the tools to build our own house. (Full article, “We’re Maasai blanket prisoners”, #story" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener">nation.africa/kenya/blogs-op…)

My old life died in a psychiatric ward, including the illusion of importance. You are not the main character. I know, because I disappeared for 5 months and the world didn't notice. Here are the lessons that reshaped my entire understanding of life: 1. You realise the world is not waiting for you. A particular song was No.1 on the charts the night I was admitted. When I finally got my phone back months later, that song had fallen to the bottom. My voicemails went from dozens… to silence… to the few people who stayed. Nobody was cruel. Nobody abandoned me. They just.. lived The world didn't pause not for me, and won't for anyone. And strangely… that realisation was liberating. We spend so much time performing importance, but life moves with or without our presence. 2. Mental health breakdowns can happen to anyone, and we must talk about it. Inside the hospital were teenagers, new parents, professionals, people who looked "successful." people who never imagined they would end up in psychiatric care. Burnout. Trauma. Exhaustion. Mental illness does not discriminate. It does not care about your CV, your reputation, or your bravery. When we break bones, we go to the hospital. But when we break down, we suffer in silence. That needs to change. 3. The most humbling moment was a small envelope of cash. I had money in my pocket the night I was admitted. I forgot it existed. Months later, they handed it back to me at discharge. It felt like a philosophy lesson placed quietly in my hands: Life can stop in a single moment, and everything you cling to becomes irrelevant  or becomes someone else's. The world does not belong to us. We only borrow our time here. Those 5 months gave me : A quieter ego. A deeper gratitude. A second life. A promise to live with intention, not pressure. Presence over perfection. As the famous quote goes: "Every man has two lives, and the second begins when he realises he has only one." My second life started in that ward. I share real stories about resilience, purpose, and life lessons that they don't teach in school. Follow for more insights on growing through what you go through.🙏

@kasujja This story and other similar ones do the rounds a lot. It is a one-sided story, and high chances that a lot of the man's faults are covered up. The advice to get another woman is also self defeating, if all women are as described in the story.

I have no idea who wrote this.. but every man should read it. The Lonely End of a Good Man He started early. Graduated top of his class. PhD before his peers even finished their Masters. A man of discipline no smoke, no drink, no scandals. He chose one woman, married his best friend, stayed faithful. He raised four brilliant children, sent them all abroad on merit. Gave them everything he never had. They now live good lives in foreign lands married, thriving, far away. He is now over 70. A professor. A man respected in academic circles, but forgotten in the quiet corners of his own home. Today, he stands in his kitchen, cooking matooke alone. His wife the woman he built everything with left for a routine visit to help their daughter with childbirth. That was three years ago. She never came back, claiming, she wants to get her residency or green card. Now she belongs to the children. She FaceTimes him on birthdays and sends love in group chats, but her heart no longer lives here. He has become a bachelor again by abandonment, not by choice. This is the lonely end of a good man. A man who did everything right. Who never cheated. Who never strayed. Who lived by the book. Who believed love and duty were enough. And yet, here he is. Alone. Heartbroken. Still in love with a woman who forgot to come home. And this is not just his story this is the silent fate of many “good men.” Now the hard questions must be asked: If he was a polygamist, would one wife have stayed? If he mingled with friends, built strong social networks, joined the staff club, would it have made the silence less deafening? If he had a side chick someone who also cared would he feel less invisible now? If he lived a little less for others and a little more for himself, would this end still look the same? This is not a call to abandon virtue, but a call to reexamine balance. Because loyalty is beautiful, but loneliness is brutal. And love, when it is not mutual in old age, becomes a slow heartbreak no medicine can cure. To the men reading this; how do we escape ending up like this? What structures, relationships, and self-preservation must we build today to ensure we’re not cooking matooke alone at 75, asking where everybody went? Because being good is not enough. Not anymore.

Interesting little piece of history here...if true.

Got an idea that can transform housing in Uganda? Join the #HFBZimbaChallenge and submit your innovative, affordable and eco-friendly housing solution. To apply, visit housingfinance.co.ug. The application period is open from 8th November - 15th November 2025. Don’t miss an opportunity to make a difference. #NBSUpdates