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Uganda, What Is Happening to You?

By Treasure — Today’s Fair Lady

In August 2026 — The Black Month, Treasure, Today’s Fair Lady, reflects on grief, loss and hope in Uganda. Written against a backdrop of national mourning, including the death of Tooro’s Omukama Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru Rukidi IV, the poem asks painful questions about loss while refusing to surrender its belief in a better tomorrow.

I remember December,
when we stood at the doorway of 2026,
waving goodbye to 2025,
with dreams tucked beneath our arms,
prayers resting upon our lips,
and hope dancing inside our hearts.

We said,

“Maybe this will be our year.
Maybe the wounds will heal.
Maybe the tears will dry.
Maybe Uganda will finally breathe.”

But Uganda…
what have you brought to our table?

Because somewhere between January and August,
our celebrations became condolences,
our smiles became sighs,
and our greetings became questions—

“Did you hear who died?”

Another name.
Another funeral.
Another family dressed in black.

Another mother staring at a coffin,
wondering why the hands she once held
are now too cold to hold hers back.

Uganda, what is happening to you?

Why does the road keep swallowing our children?
Why do buses leave with laughter
and return with silence?

Why do parents send their children to school
with blessings on their lips,
only to receive the news
they never prayed to hear?

And now, even the kingdom has fallen silent.

The crown of Tooro mourns.
The nation mourns.

A king has gone home,
and Uganda has once again
been reminded that even those we call mighty
are still mortal.

Omukama Oyo—rest in peace.

But tell me, Uganda,
how many more names must we write
in the book of the departed
before we ask what is going wrong?

August,
what did we ever do to you?

You arrived like an ordinary month,
but somehow,
you dressed yourself in black.

August 2026—

perhaps we shall remember you
as the month when Uganda
had too many tears
and too few answers.

A black month.

Not because darkness owns us,
but because grief has covered
too many Ugandan homes.

I look at 2026
and sometimes wish I could
rewind the clock,

walk back to December 31st,
find the younger me standing there
with hope in her hands,

and whisper—

“Don’t step forward yet.”

Because I didn’t know
what this year had prepared for us.

I didn’t know how many prayers
would become funerals,
how many dreams would be buried,
how many mothers would learn
the language of loss,

or how many Ugandans would ask
the same painful question:

“Why, my country?”

But Uganda,
I still refuse to believe
that your story ends in mourning.

Because beneath these ashes,
there are still people praying.

Beneath these tears,
there are still people caring.

And beneath this darkness,
there is still a country worth saving.

So let August be black
for the memories we carry,

but let September bring light.

Because Uganda,
you are not a black country.

We are grieving.
We are hurting.
We are asking questions.

But we are still here.

And perhaps that means—

there is still hope.

Let Uganda Live — Let Life Win.

— Treasure, Today’s Fair Lady

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