The Governor of BOU warned us about the consequences of the sovereignty bill.
Now the shilling has dropped significantly that 1 USD is now at 4,020 Ugx.
I remember when @FrankGashumba said this and people insulted him. Now the Katikkiro is saying the same thing. In fact, @frankbalkazerg1, these discussions should be held monthly.
Behind the police sirens and the multi-billion shilling charge sheets is a harsh truth: the moment the state decides your time in the spotlight is over, everything goes silent.
While most people take things at face value, I prefer to look deeper. So let’s step into Chris Obore’s mind as he tries to process his new reality.
The yellow Luzira uniform is rough, heavy cotton that scratches with every movement. Chris sits on the cold floor of the ward, staring at a blank wall while iron keys clang down the corridor. His wallet, phone, and belt are locked in a property bag. His dignity went with them. He thought the IGG summons was routine. He expected to record a statement and be back in his air-conditioned office by lunch.
His mind races for a political godfather. Who can reach into Luzira and pull him out? But the silence from the top is total. Then it hits him. If his former boss, the once all-powerful Speaker, has been humbled and forced to plead for forgiveness, what chance does a Director of Communications have? If the shield is broken, the spear means nothing.
Even if bail is granted, the damage is done. His senior job is effectively gone. Standing orders will put him on interdiction, on half pay, at home. The political reality is settling in: he may never walk through those parliamentary doors as an employee again.
Nights in Luzira are their own punishment. He lies on a thin mattress, swatting mosquitoes, swinging between panic and denial. Each morning he wakes for a second thinking he is in his king-size bed, waiting for coffee and his wife’s voice. Then boots pass the door, the bars come into focus, and the concrete pulls him back.
What hurts most is his family. He fears seeing his children only in a visiting room. He dreads how they will face a world that has turned their name into a punchline.
He regrets the small freedoms he ignored: shopping when he wanted, choosing dinner, closing a bathroom door. In the dark he wishes he could trade his whole career for one hour of that. A heavy thought settles: he wishes he had stayed poor. The poverty he ran from feels safer than the luxury that brought him here.
At dawn the illusion breaks during headcount. No protocol. He queues for a bucket toilet and shares cold showers with men who don’t care about his former title. The cologne and suits are gone. He is back to being the village boy from Soroti.
He replays laughing off IGG letters, sure his connections made him bulletproof. Now he counts SACCO savings and wonders if the state will freeze them too. His biggest fear is the Soroti mansion being seized. A friend once told him to build modest and invest quietly. He laughed. Now that house stands as evidence of his pride.
The mental pain cuts deepest. Former journalist colleagues are writing sarcastic headlines. The V8 is parked. Accounts are frozen. Even the woman who called him “my king” has likely moved on.
Alone with the ceiling, he prays. He reminds God of tithes and fundraisers. But the cell is silent. God does not recognize standing orders.
Chris, if you get bail, walk away from the sycophants. Forget the old office. Take a long break. Find your peace.
✍🏼:Deox T
Was it #PLU or @GovUganda that took the action to close the two media houses? Or maybe let us know if the @NRMOnline that Ugandans elected on 15th January 2026 is no more, and we just settle down.
@DaudiKabanda My brother DK, correct me if I am wrong, Uganda is okay and safe with or without Lumbuye....why is it a big deal for you/Gen to have Lumbuye?????
Do we have priorities at all ???