By: Isaac Christopher Lubogo
Disclaimer:
The following is a purely academic and philosophical reflection, protected under Article 29 of the Constitution of Uganda. It is not intended as fact, accusation, or incitement, but as intellectual and rhetorical analysis only.
Kadaga’s loss is not an event. It is a parable. It is the latest stanza in a dirge Museveni has been composing since 1986—a dirge not sung for the nation, but for those foolish enough to mistake proximity to him for permanence.
The Feast of Illusions
President Museveni is like the master chef of a poisoned banquet. He invites you to eat, and oh, how plentiful the table looks! Ministry posts are served like meat; travel allowances flow like wine; state tenders are distributed like bread.
But here is the trick—he never serves you enough to build your own table. You eat, but you do not grow. You taste, but you do not own. You rise, but only to the ceiling of his will.
Kadaga ate. Gilbert Bukenya ate. Amama Mbabazi ate. Bidandi Ssali ate. And when the feast was over, Museveni stood from the head of the table and said: “Remove the plates. Bring me another guest.”
The Spider’s Web
He is a spider, yes, but not of the ordinary bush. This is the Eternal Spider. His web stretches across the nation. Every ethnic group, every party faction, every ambitious lieutenant is caught in it. Shake the web, and he arrives—silent, patient, lethal.
He spins fear, so you dare not rebel.
He spins favor, so you dare not walk away.
He spins false eternity, so you imagine yourself indispensable.
But when the spider has sucked you dry, he does not weep. He moves. He spins anew.
The Philosophy of Betrayal
Museveni’s method is neither love nor fear—it is utility. He is a master student of Machiavelli, yes, but he has gone further. He has become the Machiavelli of the Tropics.
Machiavelli said, “A wise prince should rely on what is his own, not on what belongs to others.” Museveni refined this: “A wise prince should use others, but never allow them to become their own.”
And so he breeds loyalty not by love, not by fear, but by carefully rationed hunger. His allies orbit him like moons, each thinking it is the sun they see, not realizing they are merely reflecting borrowed light.
The Blindness of the Fed
The most tragic element is not Museveni’s cunning. It is the blindness of those who fall for it—again and again. Each thinks they are the exception:
Bukenya believed his populism shielded him.
Mbabazi thought his architecture of NRM made him heir.
Kadaga saw herself as the Lioness of Busoga, the untouchable matriarch of Parliament.
But the Eternal Spider does not honor lions, architects, or matriarchs. He honors only his own throne.
And when he is done, he burns you—not for disloyalty, not for incompetence, but for the crime of having outlived your use.
The Politics of Feeding to Bleed
If one phrase must be engraved on Museveni’s political tombstone, it is this:
“The Politics of Feeding to Bleed.”
He fattens you with crumbs, only so you bleed for him when the knife comes. He gives you power as one gives a drowning man a rope—not to save you, but to tie you deeper into the waters.
The Rhetorical Verdict
Kadaga’s humiliation is not her story alone—it is the anatomy of Museveni’s Uganda. Those who ride with him are not on a chariot—they are on a hearse. They do not dine with him—they are already being eaten.
Let it be said, then, with fire:
Museveni does not appoint—he consumes.
Museveni does not mentor—he milks.
Museveni does not trust—he traps.
Museveni does not retire allies—he buries them alive in irrelevance.
And still, new faces queue at his banquet, smiles wide, stomachs empty, eyes blind.
Conclusion: The Last Warning
History is screaming, but Uganda’s politicians are deaf. They think their loyalty buys tomorrow. But tomorrow belongs to the Eternal Spider, and in his web, there are no heirs, no favorites, no immortals.
Kadaga’s fall is a prophecy for all still dining with him: you are not next in line—you are next in ashes.
