Bangladesh’s PM Flees, Revolution Turns into a Massive Party
Imagine, if you will, the scene in Bangladesh as its Prime Minister, Sheikh Hasina, made a hasty exit from her post, her departure as abrupt as a Kampala traffic jam when a convoy of VIPs decides to go against the flow. After a month of youth protests, Hasina vacated the premises, leaving behind a scene that could rival any chaos Ugandan political history. The youthful rebels, in their best impression of revolutionary revelers, descended on Parliament and the Prime Minister’s residence, as if they had just won the grand prize in a local lotto.
These “revolutionaries” got up to some truly imaginative antics. They raided refrigerators with the enthusiasm of a Mukono boda-boda rider discovering a stash of free fuel, sampled meals like they were attending a state banquet, and turned the PM’s desk into a makeshift dance floor. They even took selfies in Hasina’s bed, while her sarees (dresses) and designer suitcases were paraded around like trophies at a village festival.
It’s a sight that is common throughout Uganda’s history, reminiscent of the kind of impromptu celebrations you’d expect if the NRM rebels of old had taken over State House and decided to host a party. One can only dream of the headlines: “Owino Market Women Sport Janet Museveni’s Mushanana; Boda Boda Riders Try on Presidential Hats.”
The crisis that toppled Hasina should strike a familiar chord with Ugandans. It mirrors our own historical moments of elite privilege and the reverberations of rebellion. After the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman established a quota system to reward freedom fighters and victims of war crimes, somewhat like how Uganda honored its bush war heroes. Over time, this quota system became a playground for nepotism and political patronage, very similar to how some Ugandans see positions in government as reserved for the “right” people.
The Bangladesh High Court’s 2018 decision to uphold the quota system triggered student protests, much like how Ugandan students protest against university tuition hikes or administrative inefficiencies. The backlash was swift, with Hasina’s response being as effective as trying to put out a fire with a bucket of warm water. Eventually, she reversed course, but it was too little, too late.
By June of this year, the Supreme Court’s ruling to open 93 percent of jobs to merit-based candidates reignited the flames of discontent. The protests were as fierce as a boda-boda gang during a fare dispute, demanding Hasina’s resignation after the violence that had claimed 280 lives. The demand for restored internet access, reopened universities, and the release of the arrested was the cherry on top of their revolutionary climax.
The downfall of Hasina boiled down to economic problems and rampant corruption, much like our own struggles. With stagnant job growth and a burgeoning youth unemployment crisis, public sector jobs became as coveted as the last piece of Matooke at a family gathering. The discontent spread like wildfire, fueled by a government crackdown that chased away opposition supporters and arrested thousands, creating a perfect storm for Hasina’s downfall.
We in Uganda should perhaps take a moment to reflect on our own political stage as Bangladesh navigates the aftermath of its political upheaval. If that day ever comes, let’s hope it finds us with more dignity than a presidential hat on a boda-boda rider’s head.
