The Death That will Come After Defeat: A Cautionary Tale for the Ugandan Politician

 

By Isaac Christopher Lubogo

 

> “He who enters the political arena without a coffin already built for his soul, will one day find his name buried in silence — while he still breathes.”

— SuiGeneris

 

DISCLAIMER

 

This is a cautionary elegy for the ambitious in Ugandan politics. A mournful warning to those who sell their peace, family, and integrity on the altar of power, only to be devoured by the very machine they served. be aware of this discourse as a cautionary tale — deeply dramatic, but psychologically grounded, emotionally raw, and tragically real.

 

I. The Seduction of the Throne

 

In Uganda, politics is not simply ambition — it is survival theatre, a game where power is a currency and winning is a second birth. The stakes are existential, not ideological. For many, entry into politics is not a call to serve — it is a last-ditch cry to matter. To escape poverty. To avenge years of invisibility. To become someone.

 

The campaign begins with fire:

 

borrowed money,

 

ancestral land sold,

 

family savings poured into rallies,

 

debt to moneylenders, church mates, mafias, and in-laws.

 

 

Each shilling becomes a sacrifice on the altar of power, paid in hope and sometimes in blood. Advisors swarm. Friends multiply. The phone never stops ringing.

 

But the ballot is brutal.

And in that moment when defeat is announced — the crowd vanishes, the money is gone, and silence sets in like a terminal disease.

 

 

II. The Aftermath of Defeat: Four Types of Death

 

1. Emotional Death: The Soul Unravels

 

Defeat feels like public divorce — only louder. You are not just rejected; you are humiliated before your clan, your children, your enemies.

 

Your name is mocked.

Your posters are torn.

Even the boda guy who once praised you now says, “He wasn’t serious.”

 

You return to a home that mortgaged itself for your dream — and sleep becomes your only escape. You spiral. Depression is not whispered; it is screamed in silence.

Marriages collapse.

Children are mocked in school.

You lose not just the race — you lose the self.

 

2. Financial Death: The Harvest of Bankruptcy

 

Many Ugandan politicians campaign like kings and retire like beggars.

 

Loans from shylocks haunt you.

Assets pledged are seized.

Houses sold to cover shame.

 

You borrowed for billboards and lost your burial land.

 

And then — those who promised support now offer pity. Or worse: mockery in silence.

 

You move from the VIP tent to no invitation at all. Poverty returns with vengeance — and this time, it wears a suit.

 

3. Social Death: Betrayal by Blood and Brotherhood

 

This is the most painful death.

 

The same party structures that cheered you will now label you “a liability.”

Your “political father” stops picking your calls.

The youth you paid to chant your name now chant someone else’s.

 

Even your own cousin leaks your WhatsApp audios to your opponent.

You realize: it wasn’t loyalty — it was transaction.

 

And in Uganda’s politics, nothing depreciates faster than a loser.

 

4. Physical Death: The Quiet Killers

 

The body breaks down under stress. Defeat triggers:

 

Strokes,

 

heart attacks,

 

ulcers,

 

and in tragic cases — suicide.

 

Several former candidates now roam the country as ghosts of ambition — lost, frail, forgotten.

 

Some never recover.

 

III. Why This Is Happening: The Devil Called Politics

 

Ugandan politics is not a fair game. It is often:

 

rigged by money,

 

sabotaged by party intrigues,

 

poisoned by betrayal,

and twisted by tribal mathematics.

 

To win, many sell truth for relevance, abandon principle for popularity, and kneel before mafia godfathers in dusty backrooms of “arrangement.”

 

But politics does not love you.

It uses you.

And the day you lose your shine, it replaces you — fast and ruthlessly.

 

IV. How to Survive the Fall

 

1. Enter with Exit Preparedness

If your whole identity is in a seat — you’re already dead. Politics is a season, not salvation. Keep your soul unowned.

 

2. Diversify Your Legacy

Build something parallel — a business, a foundation, a skill, a voice beyond politics. So when the curtain falls, you don’t fall with it.

 

3. Preserve Relationships Above Victory

Do not burn bridges with everyone while chasing votes. One day, your network, not your name, will save you.

 

4. Get Therapy or Pastoral Care

Psychological wounds need treatment. Our culture mocks help-seeking, but those who laugh today will bury you tomorrow if you don’t heal.

 

5. Prepare Your Family

Let your family be ready for loss. Let them know the risks. Do not drag them into shame they never signed up for.

 

6. Don’t Trust the Mob

Crowds don’t mean loyalty. People love you for what they can eat. When the money runs out, even your slogans will be mocked.

 

V. The Final Word: A Warning, Not a Curse

 

This is not to shame politicians. It is to warn them.

 

Politics has graveyards, not just galleries. And many are buried with no funeral — just forgotten dreams and debts.

 

Let every aspiring MP, Mayor, or LC5 remember:

 

> If you build your throne on borrowed blood, be ready to bleed alone when the drums stop.

 

Uganda needs leaders who live beyond elections — not those who die because they lost them.

 

About the author:

Isaac Christopher Lubogo is a Ugandan lawyer and lecturer