July 24, 2025
By Elvis Kintu Nsonyi
New York
The June 2024 national census revealed a striking truth: Ugandans aged 60 and above now make up nearly 5% of the population—about 2.3 million citizens. Among them are towering figures like Gen. Moses Ali, Maj. Gen. Emmanuel Rwashande, and the ever-present Rt. Hon. Rebecca Kadaga.
I write not out of malice but from a place of concern. I weep for the Pearl of Africa when I see our golden generation still queuing for leadership roles as if lining up for a concert, not a country’s future.
At an age when one might expect our elders to recline under mango trees, trading stories and offering life lessons, many are instead storming political podiums with renewed vigor. It begs the uncomfortable question: Are they chasing legacy—or running from the fear of living on SAGE?
For the uninitiated, SAGE—the Social Assistance Grants for Empowerment—offers senior citizens UGX 25,000 a month. A noble initiative, if only that amount weren’t barely enough for two kilos of sugar, a kilo of beans, and precisely zero faith in Uganda’s pension system.
Speaking of pensions, that system deserves a dishonorable mention in Uganda’s Hall of Shame. So mismanaged is it that the word “pension” now echoes like folklore.
Uganda’s post-independence journey has been riddled with governance failures. To call them “hiccups” would be generous—they’re chronic. A kind of leadership acid reflux persists through every administration despite the country being fed a steady diet of political antacids.
Let’s be clear: Ugandans love their elders. We honor them deeply. But as the elders usually say when prohibiting the young ones from occasions, “Children are loved but not invited.” In politics today, perhaps it’s time we said: Elders are loved—but not necessarily in elected positions.
What does Maj. Gen. Rwashande bring to the Parliamentary football team? A halftime prayer or a slow-motion VAR replay?
The 2017 constitutional amendment—Article 78(1)(c)—created five seats for elderly representation in Parliament. But respectfully, Uganda’s seniors don’t need more MPs. They need accessible healthcare, timely pensions, and affordable walking sticks.
Here’s the hard question: What transformative laws did many of these elder statesmen pass in their prime?
If decades in power didn’t yield much, what miracles should we expect now? The Burning Bush Bill? The Great-Great-Grandchildren’s Future Fund?
Even worse, some elderly MPs have died in the office. This isn’t poetic—it’s tragic. Parliament is no garden walk; it’s long hours, loud voices, and endless foreign junkets. Who wants to risk bedsores debating SUV allocations?
True leadership is about succession. A successful leader raises successors, not die clutching the microphone. That’s not legacy; that’s self-deception. And yet, can we blame them fully when Gen. Museveni himself is still stretching for what feels like the presidential Olympics?
Dear elders, Uganda still needs you—but as consultants, storytellers, cultural historians, and moral compasses, not frontline legislators. Your names should echo in the halls of mentorship, not in the next plenary roll call. Your greatest legacy won’t be passed at a committee meeting; it will be planted in the hearts of those you prepare to lead.
And while you’re at it, apply for your SAGE benefits early—before someone decides you’ve been too active to qualify.
