(Kampala) – It seems like Kyambogo University’s part time lecturers are starring in the longest running play in Uganda—working for months without pay. You would think they were rehearsing for “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” but with no prize in sight. On Tuesday, Hon. Margaret Rwabushaija, Workers’ Representative, took the floor, demanding that the Ministry of Education and Sports finally cough up the Shs 6 billion owed to these tireless lecturers.
You see, these are not just any lecturers. Some of them were discontinued—imagine being laid off but still showing up because you have faith like the proverbial mustard seed that someone, somewhere, will remember to pay you. Others are still hanging on, working without pay, perhaps inspired by a sense of voluntarism.
The Minister of State for Education and Sports (Primary Education), Joyce Moriku, appeared in Parliament on Wednesday, 18th September 2024, to explain the situation. Now, Moriku’s explanation sounded like one of those stories your uncle tells at the village gathering—long on details but short on solutions. She revealed that the problem stems from budget cuts. Yes, the infamous “budget cuts” that seem to be Uganda’s favorite excuse, used as often as boda boda drivers use the phrase “Tugende?”
According to the minister, wages for part time lecturers fall under allowances that are released quarterly. Unfortunately, those allowances suffered a budget cut of Shs2.6 billion. It is like promising someone a Rolex but showing up with only the chapatti—heartbreaking, really. To make matters worse, the university received just Shs149 million for this quarter, which is like trying to fill a jerry can with a teacup.
Rwabushaija wasn’t buying it, though. She pointed out that the university should have prioritized paying the lecturers before recruiting new staff. After all, you don’t abandon the banana plantation that’s feeding you to plant mangos—you take care of your existing crops first.
Hon. Joel Ssenyonyi, the Leader of the Opposition, wasn’t one to miss the action. He joined in, noting that failing to pay these lecturers could lead to a court case. Now, if there’s anything Uganda loves, it’s court cases. But as Ssenyonyi wisely pointed out, taking this to court would only cost the government more money—because apparently, we have billions for lawsuits but none for education.
Not to be outdone, Workers’ Representative Hon. Charles Bakkabulindi chimed in with some solid common sense. He reminded Parliament that whether or not these lecturers were recruited under the right conditions, they are still entitled to payment. “Let us treat them like human beings,” he added, as if the very notion were up for debate. One wonders when exactly treating people decently became a revolutionary idea.
Hon. Brenda Nabukenya from Luweero District dropped in with the harsh truth. Kyambogo University may have shiny buildings, but they lack the human resources to match. With only 30 percent of necessary staff, it’s like trying to cook a full Matooke meal with one banana. Nabukenya didn’t mince words: “You can’t have quality education without quality human resources.”
Hon. Emmanuel Ongiertho (FDC, Jonam County) took a broader view, calling for a full audit of all public universities. He seemed to suggest that the chaos at Kyambogo is not unique, and Uganda’s universities are in a collective dance of confusion and underfunding.
Hon. Muhammad Muwanga Kivumbi, Chairperson of the Public Accounts Committee (Central Government), decided it was time to raise the curtain on his committee’s findings. After conducting oversight visits to public universities, he reported that the final results were in, and it’s not looking good. Deputy Speaker Thomas Tayebwa quickly chimed in, guiding that these reports be presented next week – the classic Ugandan Parliament move—put it off until next week and hope no one asks too many questions.
The plight of Kyambogo’s lecturers is just another chapter in the Ugandan tradition of waiting. Waiting for pay, waiting for reforms, waiting for the next excuse. All eyes will be on the Ministry of Education and whether they will finally pay up—or come up with yet another creative reason why they can’t.
