Undoing Colonial Struggles in Uganda: Echoes of Imperialism and the Path to African Liberation
You know, when I reflect on why I am so driven to do this work; building bridges across divides, training faith leaders in conflict transformation, advocating for the marginalized through Crossing Lines Africa, it’s never felt like just a job or even a “ministry” in the usual sense. It’s a calling that’s been passed down through blood, through stories whispered around family fires, through the unresolved wounds of history. And honestly, unless we stay deeply connected to the roots of our ancestors, we can never truly claim to be a multicultural ministry, institution, or even relevant to the cultures we serve. How can we speak of reconciliation, justice, or peace if we are floating above the very ground where our people’s struggles were planted, watered by betrayal, and still bear fruit today?
Let me take you back to where this fire started for me. My grandfather, Semei Kakungulu also known as Uganda’s First Nationalist, was no ordinary man.
Credit: Wikipedia
He was a prince, a general, a warrior who commanded over 20,000 fighters in the late 1800s and early 1900s. The British saw his strength and used it, they sent him to conquer eastern Uganda, to subdue kingdoms like Bunyoro, to capture leaders like Kabaka Mwanga and Omukama Kabalega. He was a force: a master of guerrilla tactics, a hunter of men who moved like the wind, a leader who inspired fierce loyalty. He helped shape what became modern Uganda, thinking he was building something lasting for his people. But the empire he served promised him kingship over those lands and then pulled the rug out. They demoted him, sidelined him, left him with crumbs of power. That betrayal hit hard. It pushed him to search deeper, into the Old Testament, into ideas of identity and resilience. In 1917, he founded the Abayudaya (Black Jewish) community, embracing practices like Sabbath observance and kosher living, not to copy anyone else, but to forge a vision of African strength and self determination. He admired the enduring spirit he saw there, dreaming of our people rising to a place of disciplined, unified power on our own terms. Today, thousands of Abayudaya (Black Jews) still live that out across eastern Uganda and beyond, a living reminder that betrayal doesn’t have to be the end of the story.
That same betrayal played out on a bigger scale with the land itself. The 1900 Buganda Agreement handed out 8,000 square miles in the Mailo system; prime land divided among the Kabaka, royalty, and about 1,000 chiefs, each getting roughly eight square miles as a reward for siding with the British. It was a clever move: betray your own king, like Kabaka Mwanga who resisted so fiercely, and get rich. Those new landlords turned ruthless, taxing peasants who lost their ancestral grounds, creating layers of inequality that still divide us. Kampala’s seven hills, once sacred symbols of Buganda royalty (Buganda a word which means the amalgamation of the Bantu speaking people’s likened to Odin’s Asgard) became a stage for religious and ethnic fractures. Catholics, Protestants, Muslims all pulled into the colonial game. And don’t forget the Uganda Martyrs, those 45 brave souls (Anglicans, Catholics, and others) executed in the 1880s for refusing to abandon their faith amid court power struggles. We honor them all, not just one group, because their courage cuts across lines. But let’s be honest: our pre-colonial kingdoms had their own shadows; wars, conquests, entanglements in the Great East African Slave Trade that depopulated villages and made the land ripe for grabbing. Imperialism didn’t invent division; it weaponized what was already there.
These patterns echo everywhere. In my writing here on the Global Peace Warriors site like that piece on Palestine, Turtle Island, and the myth of “non-existent” nations, I call out the hypocrisy of dismissing indigenous claims to justify theft. It’s the same playbook: declare lands empty or peoples unfit, redraw maps, favor collaborators. Uganda was even dangled as a potential Jewish homeland in 1903 the “Uganda Scheme” treating our soil like a colonial bargaining chip. Later, under Idi Amin’s terror in the ’70s, we mourned fresh atrocities, including the Entebbe crisis where Israeli forces pulled off that daring rescue. History layers on history, but the thread is always the same: dispossession, division, and the slow erosion of our roots.
That’s why my work feels so personal. As Semei Kakungulu’s great grandson, beyond any church institution or colonial hangover, I carry this stake in our liberation. It is why I mobilize peacebuilders across the Great Lakes region, work with refugees and faith leaders in settlements from Uganda to Burundi, up to Ethiopia and push peace oriented theologies that heal rather than divide. But here’s the heart of it: if we lose touch with these ancestral roots, the betrayals, the dreams, the resilience, we end up offering a shallow multiculturalism. We talk inclusion, but without grounding in the real histories and hurts of the people we serve, it rings hollow. True relevance comes from knowing where we have been, honoring the warriors and visionaries who came before, and letting that fuel our commitment to justice today.
So, I am inviting you into this with me. Let’s stay rooted, let’s build something real. Support the work through Peace Catalyst International, check out Philip Kakungulu, or specifically my page there, to learn more and join in. Your partnership could help us keep these roots alive and growing.
What stirs in you when you hear these stories? I would love to hear.
Leave a Reply