#OutToLunch: Uganda’s businesses can also celebrate 50 years like Afrigo

By Denis Jjuuko

If you are familiar with things Masaka, you have probably heard of Nabugabo Beach. A usually quiet beach on the shores of Lake Victoria. A place you would perhaps wish to sit, listen to water waves and reflect. I think one of the major Christian faiths in Uganda even owns a retreat center in the area.

But Nabugabo Beach becomes totally different on two days a year — Boxing Day and Easter Monday. The quietness is replaced with the exuberance of youth, the calmness of adulthood, the rowdiness of revelers, the sound of Uganda’s most powerful line arrays, and the tastiness of beverages in all colors and bottles.

It seems the whole of Masaka including those who migrated to Kampala to trade or work as professionals descends on Nabugabo Beach to celebrate either the birth of Jesus Christ or his resurrection.

Uganda’s leading musicians and whoever works in the entertainment value chain always put their mind to these days. It is a party like no other for those who can manage the crowd.

So, one day, as a teenager, my guardians I think thought that I needed to experience Nabugabo Beach. I don’t remember if it was Boxing Day or Easter Monday but they decided that I should not miss out. My guardians were strict people who never allowed us to go to such events. This time, they didn’t care. I still don’t know why but reflecting about it many years later, I think it was because of the main act — the legendary Afrigo Band.

We arrived at Nabugabo Beach around lunch hour and set our eyes on the stage. Two or so hours later, the MC announced that Afrigo Band was ready to perform. I fell in love with them. The guy on the keyboard, the guy on the drums, the guy on the saxophone. The guy who danced while wearing a waistcoat without a shirt. Great stuff that I remember to this day.

Over the years, I started following them a bit even though I wasn’t as much a fan as my elder brother, Tete, whose Friday evenings only meant Afrigo. And when I started living with him in Kampala during my late teens, I wished one day he would wake up and say dress up and we go to Crested Towers, Little Flowers or wherever Afrigo was performing but he was never as generous as my Masaka guardians!

Anyway, the other Saturday I didn’t need anyone’s invitation or permission to see them perform at their 50th anniversary at the expansive Millennium Grounds in Lugogo. The heavy downpour wanted to spoil the evening but it found us “looking.”

It is remarkable what Moses Matovu and his team have done. And for me it isn’t just their timeless songs. It is how they have kept it all together for all these years. We are on a continent where we are constantly reminded that businesses don’t even celebrate their fifth birthday. And here we have Afrigo Band. 50 years in the same business with the same name and perhaps ethos.

Although apart from Moses Matovu, all the other founders are long dead, the band still has people who have been part of it for more than 40 years. Drummist Herman Ssewanyana joined in 1983. Joanita Kawalya has been there since time immemorial. Becoming a Member of Parliament didn’t stop Rachel Magoola from singing Obangaina.

How do we evolve to keep people interested in what we are doing for 50 years? At many Afrigo’s shows, it isn’t only old people enjoying Endongo Ssemadongo. Young people come to enjoy songs on which their parents danced “squeeze” during their wedding ceremonies. Young people bring their dates to Afrigo’s shows. Young people hire Afrigo for their weddings.

I think it is because they have kept some standards and decided not to cut corners. I may be wrong but I have never heard that Afrigo announced a show and didn’t turn up like it is sometimes with some musicians. You don’t see their members in the press or on TikTok badmouthing their colleagues. Don’t the members have any differences? I think they do, after all they are human even when they enjoy legendary status, but they keep their differences under wraps. They have come to understand that what unites them and keeps them together is far more important.

As we celebrate 50 years of Afrigo, we need to learn a lot from them. Patience, sticking to the basics, doing what we said we would do and ensuring that we can always pass on the baton to the next generation.

The writer is a communication and visibility consultant. djjuuko@gmail.com

Tags: 50 years of Afrigo, Denis Jjuuko, Government of Uganda ., Herman Ssewanyana, Joanita Kawalya, legendary Afrigo Band, Out to Lunch, Prime Time Communications, Rachel Magoola

Out to Lunch

#OutToLunch: Make cylinders of 1kg, 2kg if gas is to replace charcoal

By Denis Jjuuko On a trip to northern Uganda some years ago, I asked the transport team to provide a sports utility vehicle (SUV). I prefer SUVs for long journeys as they are more comfortable and can handle the terrain. We were to spend a week traversing the breadth of northern Uganda. It didn’t take long to realize that some of the people I was traveling with were unhappy but I couldn’t put a finger to it. I thought maybe they didn’t want to make the trip. Along the way, the driver pointed to a roadside makeshift market and said in Luganda, “laba emaali,” loosely translated as look at money while pointing at sacks of charcoal that were packed beyond the rims with a fibre net holding the extra black pieces together. That is when my colleagues said that I have made them miss returning to Kampala with charcoal. That I should have asked the transport team to provide a pickup truck. “We are not ministers to travel in this kind of car,” another angrily quipped. I was ably informed that a sack of charcoal cost a fraction of what the traders in Kampala charged. I understood their sentiments. I offered lunch and dinner for the weeklong trip, arguing that they can use that saving to buy charcoal when they returned to Kampala. I ceased being a fan of buying stuff along our highways to return with to Kampala after realizing that prices quoted by traders or vendors depended entirely on the car you drive and how you look but that is another story. Also, I have never been a fan of charcoal. I find it expensive, easily wastable by households, dirty and cumbersome to use. After that trip, I understood the place charcoal occupies in people’s hearts and households. It wasn’t, therefore, surprising when panic engulfed Ugandans especially the urban dwellers when there was an announcement that charcoal had been banned in Uganda ostensibly to protect the environment. Social media went gaga. Parliament swiftly stepped in and advised the government to give it a week by presenting its comprehensive plan. Charcoal is a byproduct of trees and many have been felled to make it. Truckloads of it used to dominate certain routes to urban areas. Many roadside kiosk owners survived by vending charcoal. We have just experienced a severe drought in Uganda and I believe that many people won’t have food to eat in a few months. I perfectly understand why government wants to ban it. As somebody who isn’t a fan of it, I have no tears to shed to be honest. But that would be selfish. The majority of households can’t afford the alternatives — electricity and gas or even briquettes. Beyond price, both forms of energy also have distribution limitations in Uganda. Liquefied petroleum gas in Uganda is largely sold in cylinders of 6kgs and 12kgs. If you don’t have a cylinder, the startup cost is approximately Shs170,000 for 6kgs and Shs266,000 for a 12kg. The median monthly income in Uganda is Shs200,000! What makes charcoal the preferred choice by at least many urban households is because with Shs1,000, one can get a palmful of it which they can use to cook something. Many of our people don’t earn a predictable regular income. They wake up, go to work (if they find it) and are paid per a day or work done. Once they get that money, they can buy some charcoal of Shs1,000 and some maize flour or a few fingers of Matooke and prepare the day’s meal. They can’t afford to spend more than their monthly income on the gas equipment. There was a time government distributed some gas cylinders freely. I believe that at Shs60,000 for a 6kg and Shs112,000 for a 12kg for a refill respectively, the majority of our people can’t afford it. Gas cylinders even if distributed for free will most likely end up as decorative materials. What then can be done? Government must or support the private sector to make gas cylinders of 1kg or 2kg which means that the majority of households can afford to refill at Shs10,000 for a 1kg or Shs20,000 for a 2kg or even lower. That is why manufacturers of consumer goods like sugar or cooking oil don’t sell only 25kgs or 5 litres respectively. They sell in small quantities that the majority can afford. Our people buy sugar by spoonful, diapers by a piece, eat beans but ask the restaurant to add in meat soup (because they can’t afford meat). They can only afford gas by a kilo or a half not 6 or 12kgs. The writer is a communications and visibility consultant. djjuuko@gmail.com

November 3, 2026

Out to Lunch

#OutToLunch: Medical apprenticeship programs critical in improving diagnosis and treatment

By Denis Jjuuko You probably know somebody who after trying many healthcare facilities, they were told there was nothing wrong with them and they should go back home. The symptoms persisted though and the more facilities they visited, the more they were told the same. Sometimes they were given painkillers to psychologically manage them. Desperate, they visited a traditional healer whose Thursday clinic deep in the village is thronged by many people who share similar experiences. The healer is basking in glory. He saved so and so; his marketing team disguising themselves as waiting clients assure them. After a few months of some relief, the pain comes back and this time more excruciating. But since they tried everything and failed, they give up and wait to die. And indeed, they die. At their funeral, we claim that it was God’s plan! Well, if you don’t know anyone who has gone through that, at least you heard of King Oyo’s story. The now deceased Tooro Kingdom leader visited some high-end hospitals in Kampala after feeling persistent backpain. X-rays, MRI scans later, they told him they saw nothing. Being a person of means, he flew to a hospital in Nairobi where he was diagnosed with cancer. A year later he was dead. What did the people in Nairobi saw that the Kampala ones couldn’t? Well, Nairobi has a PET Scan or a few. Kampala and the whole of Uganda don’t. A PET Scan costs about US$3m or approximately 17 Landcruisers. If there was a meeting of government officials, you would run out of space to park them. That is how many we have in Uganda but a PET Scan is not something we have been able to buy and install yet. But it isn’t just the lack of technology that is a problem. You can have a PET Scan and still fail to diagnose a patient properly. Patients aren’t sent for a PET Scan on their first visit to a clinic as it is rarely used as a diagnostic test rather one that determines an extent of the disease. Other tests have to be done. And still a diagnosis can be missed depending on who has done the scan or X-ray and the reading of the results. If for example a child has a bone tumor, a pediatric radiologist would probably pick up the first signs that an adult radiologist may easily miss. Even then, the doctors who ordered the tests and other specialists can sit as a group and discuss what they are seeing. They may even disagree. After that, they could order for a biopsy and eventually a PET Scan if it is needed. You see, that means that you need to have a team of specialists with not only adequate training but also experience that exposed them to a diverse spectrum of patient diseases and how to diagnose them. If you only train in Uganda and practice in Uganda for a year or two, it is most likely you won’t be able to diagnose many diseases even with advanced technologies at your disposal. Doctors in Europe struggle to diagnose and even treat malaria, which is many times chicken feed to Ugandan doctors. When did your doctor last consult anyone before prescribing drugs? Most likely he or she listened to you, sent you to the lab, looked at the results and sent you to the pharmacy or told you to go back home. Isn’t that likely to lead to a wrong diagnosis? I am not saying that a team needs to look at each and every case but you get the drift. To have good doctors in Uganda, there is a need for a robust apprenticeship program so that the graduate doctors can learn from as many experts as possible. When we spend years discussing intern doctors’ wages, it means we are delaying their learning. They aren’t getting the right exposure from the seniors. And if they aren’t properly apprenticed, they will not become good doctors. There is no two ways about it. We also need to have a critical number of health workers sent elsewhere for exposure. They should learn how medicine is practiced elsewhere while getting exposed to different diseases and treatment methods. Government should be talking for example to American hospitals for medical residency. We could send some to Aga Khan in Nairobi as well. Those who are sent by government, they should be contracted and incentivized to come back to work here. The right technology and generally good working conditions should be in place. Upon return, they should train others through apprenticeships. They should spend a certain number of hours a week for a few years in public hospitals with the list of young doctors they have mentored as part of their deliverables. Ensure that those trained doctors remain in hospital wards too. This is actually cheaper than sending politically connected patients abroad for treatment because Uganda can only send so many. The writer is a communication and visibility consultant. djjuuko@gmail.com

October 26, 2026

Out to Lunch

#OutToLunch: Uber’s abrupt exit calls for regulation of international brands to protect users

By Denis Jjuuko Ten years ago, Kampala was all the rage. Uber, the global taxi hailing app launched in Kampala with fanfare. The razzmatazz that comes with a global brand that promises to change the world. All our transport problems, at least in Kampala, would be sorted. It was cool to order a Uber or arrive at a fancy party in one. If you hadn’t installed the app, you were being left behind. There was no need to buy a car. Uber would sort that at the fraction of the cost. If you had a car, it was so cool to use it as a Uber on your way to or from work. And if you didn’t like your boss, you could quit your job and become your own boss as a Uber driver. It wouldn’t get any fancy than that. Some people cashed out their savings, bought a few corollas, got their cousins who had previously graduated from university and made them Uber drivers. Side hustle had never been so simple. Special hire drivers cried. Calls placed to their previous customers went unanswered. The suitor had a new lover. You were exploitative. Uber transported someone to wherever they wanted at the cost of a chapati! Some young people decided to create Uber for all sorts of things. Looking for somebody to wash your clothes over the weekend, a “uber” was created for that. Need a truck to transport something? There was a “uber” for it. Need a boda? Well, another “uber” was created before Uber itself introduced bodas. Innovation hubs were full of ideas with young people dressed in hoodies spending all their time trying to create the next Uber. To be fair, it wasn’t just in Uganda. Every new innovation has somebody trying to replicate it for another industry. With apps like Uber and AirBnB and their early global success, other platforms for gig work or sharing were created everywhere. UpWork, Fiverr, DoorDash… the list is endless. We were told the sharing economy was the new thing. That we didn’t need to own stuff. We could easily share. The problem though with international brands like Uber is that they can wake up and make a decision that affects many people. Like they did when they announced that they will no longer be available in Uganda. And within a few minutes, they were gone. They didn’t even have the courtesy to inform the drivers signed up on their app for at least a week. I believe some were even still processing the news and maybe even parked at malls waiting for clients only to realize that the application had gone mute. I believe those who hadn’t checked their communications platforms restarted their phones several times. Developing economies like Uganda shouldn’t just allow these brands to come in, do and go as they wish. They can’t just be making abrupt decisions from Silicon Valley. Why couldn’t Uber give time before exiting the country? They could have given a 90-day notice so that their drivers and customers have enough time to prepare. To operate here, the government should force them to follow some rules and regulations. Usually when they start offering service in smaller economies like ours, there is something they want which isn’t direct revenue. It is global presence that enables them to have an explosive initial public offering on the New York Stock Exchange or attract some funding. Once they achieve those goals, their mission is over and can do whatever they want especially where there is no regulation. In markets where they are regulated, they can’t just wake up and announce that they have closed. Also, the actions of brands like Uber mean that there is a need to identify our challenges and find applicable solutions. For many years, I wonder whether Uber drivers made any money. The rates were so low prompting many of them to try to negotiate out of the app. What had made Uber appealing to drivers was the near guarantee of a return trip. Unlike a special hire (cab), the driver would be able to find a customer after dropping off somebody. That increasingly became difficult yet the rates remained low. When fuel prices went up, Uber didn’t respond appropriately. Apparently, increments had to follow some policy created based on the American or western European economy. Bad roads and traffic jams were never factored in. Ugandans largely drive old cars which means that they consume a lot of fuel and susceptible to breakdowns. If the roads are potholed, maintenance and repair become costly. An unregulated global brand wouldn’t care much about that while setting rates especially when they don’t own the asset that guarantees their return (25% of each trip in the case of Uber). Regulation of global brands is critical in protecting the interests of users. The writer is a communication and visibility consultant. djjuuko@gmail.com

October 26, 2026