The letter started with “Habaari, Bazzukulu.” It ended with “muteleke.” And it was signed by President Yoweri Museveni.
This week, the President himself addressed the orwaari — noise — surrounding the Sovereignty Bill. In a statement released on his letterhead, Museveni denied claims that the Bill would stop Foreign Direct Investment, block support for religious bodies, or cut remittances from Ugandans abroad. “Really!! That is not the Bill I initiated,” he wrote.
If the man who initiated it in Cabinet says that’s not it, then two questions follow: What is the Bill? And why does the country think it’s something else?
The Two Bills Living in Uganda’s Head
There’s the Sovereignty Bill people fear: the one that locks Uganda in. No FDI, no NGO money, no kyeyo dollars. A bill that tells the world “muteleke” and tells investors “tovaayo.” That Bill would tank the shilling before Parliament finishes the second reading. Uganda doesn’t run on speeches. It runs on remittances — $1.4B a year. On FDI — factories, dams, oil. Suicide isn’t sovereignty.
Then there’s the Bill Museveni describes: the one about “policy decision-making.” The right for Parliament to debate women’s seats or UPDF representation without a donor’s policy brief. The right to legislate on homosexuality without aid threats. The right to stay neutral on Ukraine-Russia without a Western memo. The right to privatize — or not — without a World Bank condition.
That’s sovereignty of the mind, not the border.
The problem: Ugandans have read too many laws that promised freedom and delivered handcuffs. So when “Sovereignty Bill” trends, panic trends faster. Orwaari fills the gap where the actual text should be.
Museveni’s History Lesson: 1900 to 2026
The President took Bazzukulu back to 1900. “The whole of Africa, except for Ethiopia, had been shamefully colonized after 400 years of slave trade because of our egocentric Kings that were spending more energy causing wars among us than uniting us to defend ourselves.”
He’s right. Sovereignty in 1900 meant the right to exist without a white man’s flag on your soil. It took Marcus Garvey, the ANC in 1912, USSR guns, Chinese training, and South Africa’s 1994 freedom — a century — to win that.
But Museveni’s point is this: the fight changed. In 1900, the colonizer came with a gun. In 2026, influence comes with a grant agreement. Colonialism took your land. Modern pressure takes your law.
So he quotes Mwalimu: “Independence means the right to make our own mistakes if necessary and learn from them.” Sovereignty, he writes, means “Please, muteleke, so that we make our own decisions. Do not fund groups to influence our decisions as a country.”
For the elite, that’s doctrine. For the ordinary Ugandan, that’s danger. Because when governments make mistakes, State House doesn’t go hungry. Kawempe does.
Why “Muteleke” Scares the Bazzukulu
“Do not fund groups to influence our decisions.”
To Cabinet, that means foreign embassies and NGOs. That sounds like “don’t fund the clinic that gave my mother ARVs.” It sounds like “don’t fund the SACCO that gave me boda capital.” It sounds like “don’t send money home because we might call it interference.”
Museveni says the Bill won’t touch remittances. But Bazzukulu don’t trust statements. They trust bank balances. If the Bill doesn’t say in black and white — “This Act shall not apply to personal remittances” — the orwaari continues. Because we’ve seen “it won’t affect you” before.
And “don’t interfere” cuts both ways. If it means foreign governments, fine. If it means Ugandans can’t criticize policy without being called foreign agents, then muteleke doesn’t mean “leave Uganda alone.” It means “leave government alone.” That’s not sovereignty. That’s immunity.
The Real Test: What Counts as “Interference”?
Museveni lists the issues: special women representation, homosexuality, privatization, Asian properties, Ukraine-Russia. Those are policy.
But where is the line?
Is a German company building a solar plant FDI or interference? No — that’s investment.
Is the German ambassador tweeting that Parliament should vote a certain way interference? Yes — that’s pressure.
The law must punish the second without jailing the first. Because we need the megawatts more than we need the tweets.
And what of Ugandan NGOs? If a Kampala group funded by Swedes lobbies for girls’ education, is that “foreign influence” or “wealth-creation” for future taxpayers? If we call all foreign-funded advocacy “interference,” we won’t have sovereignty. We’ll have silence. And silence never built a country.
Museveni warns: “Uganda had become a failed state because of the politics of identity as opposed to politics of interests.” True. But “interests” — markets, jobs, electricity — often come with partners. Sovereignty without partners is poverty with a constitution.
What Must Happen Now — Before Orwaari Becomes Policy
Publish the Bill. Immediately. Museveni says “that is not the Bill I initiated.” Then table the one he did. Ugandans debate rumors because government hides paper. End the noise with a PDF on the Parliament website.
Ring-fence remittances in law. One clause: “Nothing in this Act shall restrict, tax, or monitor personal remittances from Ugandans abroad.” If you don’t write it, Bazzukulu will assume you mean to take it.
Define “policy interference” narrowly. UPDF in Parliament? Internal. Oil deals? Maybe. But if “policy” includes health and education, and “interference” includes any donor comment, you’ve isolated Uganda. We can’t drink sovereignty.
Protect Ugandans’ right to disagree. If Mwalimu was right — if independence means the right to make mistakes — then it also means the right for citizens to say “This is a mistake” without CID at the door. Muteleke must apply to foreigners, not to nationals.
The Final Line Is the Whole Fight
“To all and sundry, please do not interfere by word, action or money in that effort.”
In 1900, that was for London. In 2026, Museveni wrote it for Washington, Beijing, and Brussels. But Bazzukulu are reading it too.
So the question isn’t “Will the Bill stop FDI?” The President says no.
The question is: After the Bill, can a Ugandan criticize government and still be called patriotic?
Because if muteleke means “shut up,” then we didn’t win sovereignty. We just changed the colonizer.
Museveni fought egocentric kings who divided us. The Sovereignty Bill must not become a law that divides us from the world, or from each other.
The Bill isn’t about foreigners. It’s about who gets to call Uganda home, and on what terms.
Bazzukulu heard “Habaari.” They’re waiting to see if “muteleke” includes them.
Publish the Bill. Then we’ll know.
