Isaac lutalo

Son, brother, friend and Advocate.

[kitze 🛠️ tinkerer.club @thekitze]

beautiful explanation. this is 100% happening. https://t.co/637WwcoLwQ

[Uganda Legal Information Institute @Uganda_LII]

Tumwebaze Jet John Ndamagi v Paul Kuteesa and Another (Election Petition Application 13 of 2026) [2026] UGHC 1138 (22 September 2026)

Applicant failed to prove a prior advocate-client relationship or exchange of confidential information warranting disqualification
👉:https://t.co/J7nw3RF8Iy @ntvuganda @Fireliglntfi @DailyMonitor @newvisionwire @FERDINANDIUS

[Dr Petero wamala @PeteroWamala]

MY SON RETURNED FROM THE UK WITH A MASTER’S DEGREE. THREE YEARS LATER, I WAS STILL GIVING HIM POCKET MONEY

Andrew had always made his mother proud. Good schools in Uganda, a degree, then a Master’s in Marketing and Strategy from the UK.

Tuition. Accommodation. Air tickets. Pounds painfully converted from Uganda shillings.

When he graduated, the photographs travelled through every family WhatsApp group.

Mission accomplished.

Three years later, Andrew was 31 and his mother was still giving him pocket money.

He lived rent-free in a family apartment. She had bought him a Toyota Premio. Sometimes Mummy even provided fuel.

Yet Andrew wasn’t lazy. Every morning he searched for jobs: Marketing Manager. Business Development Manager. Strategy Officer.

He applied and applied.

Once he was offered a sales job.

“Mummy, after everything I studied in Britain, you want me to become a salesman?”

Then his mother met Uncle Rwamiti.

“My son has failed to get a proper job.”

Uncle Rwamiti asked about the apartment, car, fuel and pocket money.

Then he said: “Madam, perhaps your son doesn’t have an unemployment problem. He may have an activation problem.”

A few days later he met Andrew at Horizons Café.

“What can you do?”

“I have a Master’s degree in Marketing and Strategy.”

“I didn’t ask what you studied. I asked what you can do.”

Silence.

“Can you help somebody sell more tomatoes?”

Andrew laughed.

“I am serious. Can you help a small manufacturer find customers?”

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps you are not unemployed. You are waiting for somebody to give your knowledge permission to work.”

Uncle Rwamiti gave him an assignment: stop applying for jobs for two weeks. Find five businesses with sales problems. Choose one problem. Solve a small piece of it.

Andrew found a small furniture manufacturer with beautiful products and terrible marketing.

He improved the photographs, created a catalogue, followed up old enquiries and contacted potential customers.

Within weeks, an order came.

At month’s end the owner handed Andrew UGX 500,000.

Andrew called Uncle Rwamiti excitedly.

“They paid me!”

“Congratulations. Your Master’s degree has finally crossed immigration.”

That UGX 500,000 mattered because somebody other than Mummy had paid Andrew for value created.

One client became two. Two became four.

He made mistakes. He learned. He stopped introducing himself by where he studied and started asking:

“What problem can I solve?”

Eighteen months later, his mother sent him UGX 300,000.

Andrew returned it.

“Why have you sent the money back?”

“Mummy, I’m okay. I don’t need pocket money anymore.”

His mother cried.

Her son wasn’t rich. He had become independent.

Later she asked Uncle Rwamiti: “What did you do to my son?”

“Nothing. I helped him discover that a degree is not a job.”

“And what changed?”

“Problem. Solution. Action. Trust. Repeat.”

Perhaps some educated adult children don’t need another degree, connection or envelope from Mummy.

They need help crossing the bridge between knowing something and making something happen with what they know.

That bridge is Knowledge Activation.

Petero Wamala (Dr)
Making sense of change through ethical storytelling

[Dr. Clown, PhD @DrClownPhD]

Well... he's not wrong... 😅

[𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗬𝗢𝗡𝗬𝗜 @Ssenyonyiderick]

Wait for it🌅🇺🇬

[Isaac lutalo @LutaloIsaac]

@IanNdamwesiga Congratulations 🤝

[Andrew Kyamagero @kyamageroandrew]

When fuel hits UGX 6K, nobody flinches.
When police detain activists, silent.

But hit a man’s car with a 900K fine,he suddenly finds his voice.

Uganda’s elites are awake. Now let’s ask:

What else have we been too silent about? 🧵
#FreePoliticalPrisoners
#RejectEPSAutoUg

[H’s mom @aiishadahir]

Talk to Allah like this to get your Dua accepted🕊️

[H’s mom @aiishadahir]

Did you do Dhikr today?

[Amos Wekesa @wekesa_amos]

A must watch

beautiful piece about @UG_Airlines and Uganda.

You will enjoy it

[Founder Mode @Founder_Mode_]

This video will change your life:

[David Lammy @DavidLammy]

We must not forget Sudan.

[Okong' Okuna @XivTroy]

My old man told me a few years ago that being a good person was only as rewarding as it was natural. It's for you more than it is for the recipient of the good deed. You do good because if you did otherwise it'd weigh you down. If that goodness expects, it is doomed.

[Amos Wekesa @wekesa_amos]

Rwenzori ranges- Uganda

Once met a very seasoned mountain climber who had climbed almost all the highest points in the world.

He said Amos, the Rwenzori ranges are the most beautiful Mt. Ranges in the world. He added, am not kidding!

But the world doesnt know!

[books 📖 @bookpoets]

i hope you find the courage to change your life

[iAm Uncle Mo @mkiboneka]

There should be an age at which the government just intervenes and assigns you a pattana

[DBwambale @TheMutaD]

Peanut 🥜 Colour, the Serena Kampala Hotel and Kampala's copycat culture

In 2004, when Uganda still worked somewhat effectively, the Nile Hotel International Limited, a wholly GOU owned parastatal, gave a 30-year concession to the AKDN trading as Tourism Promotion Services to establish the Kampala Serena Hotel. The intention was to invest $18m to turn the 85-room facility into a 146 key 5 ⭐ hotel and refurbish the Kampala International Conference Center that had been built by the Idi Amin administration and hosted the 1976 Organisation of African Unity (OAU) Heads of State and Government Meeting.

Eventually, the facility's revamp took some $30.5 million and the rooms ended up being 152, instead. (There was an $8 million revamp in 2016, to celebrate 10 years of the concession, that increased room capacity to 188 rooms when 36 more keys were added).

Jon Cavanagh, undergirded a team from Symbion, the interesting architectural outfit, that was to later wrest almost all business from Ssentoogo & Partners and has had a disproportionate influence, together with FBW, on Kampala's office and institutional built environment.

His team, chose the peanut colour. It wasn't popular and wasn't that commonly asked for according to a friend, who at the time, worked out of Sadolin, the plant that made the product.

On 12th November 2006, or thereabout, the Aga Khan and M7 opened the facility. The Symbion guys and their team had actually outdone themselves in creating one of the more enchanting (even 20 years later) hotels, in East Africa.

The guys who were making the paint were so overwhelmed by orders over the next 2-3 years that they had to study why there was such a sudden spike in demand for a paint that was at best a filler on the paint catalogue.

The answer, as my friend recounts, was the Kampala Serena Hotel. All of a sudden, every mugaga (rich man) wanted their new apartment block or house for one of their wives painted in coconut. They would tell their builders and painters to use 'that colour like on the Serena'!

Now older and wiser, the fellow who used to work part time at the paint plant while at university, has his own way of looking at that phenomenon.

He says unique for a peacetime city in Africa, Kampala is the only place where money doesn't chase ideas or rather the class with access to capital or whatever little money is left after the '86ers and their cronies have skimmed off the cream, doesn't like nor associate nor consider ideas from what he called the poverty stricken thinking and imaginative classes.

Every other city has a vibe of a thinking class that actually has some spare change. To think/ideate in Uganda, is akin to day-dreaming or committing suicide.

He postulated that this made many people in this city, to conform, hence the French Cut houses, that served little utility in the mid-90s to late 90s. The pitched, clay-roofs, still little utility, of the early to mid 2000s, the garish bathroom tiles on patios and shades and walls of the quickly forgotten 2006-2010 era, and now, the strip malls that everyone with money is building in Kyanja+Kisaasi+Kabalagala or any suburb worth its name.

He had no kind words for the 320 plus "arcades" or "malls" in downtown Kampala that are barely distinguishable from each other in their architectural ugliness, and now, have mostly lost utility, less than 10 years after most were built, as the mass exodus to the strip malls in the suburbs continues unabated.

He was smoking and drinking whisky at the same time and muttering curses with the word peanut interspersed, when I left him.

Gave our whole informal discussion group at Ozahi and X-Arena (one of the better curated hanging places) in Ntinda, something to ponder.

How do we make ideas and capital get to each other? Are our ideas and ideation so off they can't attract capital? Is this unique to Kampala, alone?

Serena gave us peanut as a color and not food as some knew it, are Strip Malls the new peanut colour?

[Uganda Law Society @ug_lawsociety]

As our call for sureties for other individuals still on remand that were detained while peacefully demonstrating and exercising their rights as enshrined in the 1995 Uganda Constitution, President @BmalinguOundo wishes to address you regarding your responsibilities as a surety.

Please read 👇

[Dr Busingye Kabumba @bkabumba]

My column in the @observerug this week.

I offer some modest suggestions to a young judicial officer serving in today’s @JudiciaryUG - strongly advising them not to be misled by the ‘class of 1986’.

https://t.co/N01ExOT3bP

[Dr Busingye Kabumba @bkabumba]

‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness …’

Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (1859)