They called it sovereignty. We call it hunger

The law that killed the Ugandan shilling — and the man who begged parliament not to pass it

By Mukama Phillip Kahigiriza

I will tell you exactly when this country went wrong. Not when the dollar hit 4,100 shillings. Months before that, in a quiet committee room, when a man who understands money tried to save Uganda from itself.

April 28, 2026. Joint Committee of Parliament. Bank of Uganda Governor Michael Atingi-Ego did not shout. He came with numbers. He came with fear in his voice.

“Chairman, a country without reserves is not sovereign,” he said. “The potential of this Bill to destabilise Uganda’s balance of payments is our primary concern.”

He explained carefully. The previous year, Uganda recorded a balance of payments surplus of 1.5 billion US dollars. Diaspora remittances, NGO inflows and foreign investment had built reserves to 6 billion dollars. “The moment you tamper with these inflows, we risk running down our reserves — and that is economic disaster.”

Then he delivered the line that should have shamed every person in that room: “Bank of Uganda was never consulted.” The central bank, custodian of the national currency, learned about a law governing money from the news.

But who listens to a governor when politics is louder?

The Protection of Sovereignty Bill, 2026, tabled on April 15 by Attorney General Kiryowa Kiwanuka, sounded reasonable on the surface. Protect Uganda from foreign interference. Few would argue with that framing. Inside, however, it was something else entirely. Receive more than 400 million shillings from abroad without ministerial approval? Register as a foreign agent. Fail to comply? Face 20 years in prison. “Influence public opinion against government policy” on behalf of foreigners? You are a criminal.

In a country where nearly every family relies on mobile money transfers from a brother in Dubai, a sister in London, an uncle in Boston — where remittances reached 2.5 billion dollars in 2025 — this was not sovereignty legislation. It was economic self-harm.

Ugandans saw it clearly. Civic activist Job Kiija went on NBS Frontline and warned: “You are giving out the power of the Constitution to the Minister.” Opposition legislator Ibrahim Ssemujju Nganda was direct: “This Bill deals mainly with the movement of money. It is coming to regulate political funding.” Lawyer Godbar Tumushabe told a camera: “With a stroke of a pen, you can disrupt a 2.5 billion dollar diaspora economy.” Law Society President Isaac Ssemakadde, speaking from exile, called it a funeral: “Uganda is departing from the democratic world.”

Even former Aruu MP Odonga Otto, no friend of the opposition, said bitterly: “Inside the Bill, they just fell short of adding the name Bobi Wine.”

Parliament was told that treason is already criminalised. That money laundering is already criminalised. That 45 days of required consultation were compressed to two weeks. That microphones were switched off when members tried to object. They passed it anyway. May 6, 2026, after seven hours of shouting, the ruling party’s numbers carried it through. It became law on May 22.

Bank of Uganda Governor Michael Atingi-Ego

Government announced amendments — diaspora remittances exempted, foreign direct investment exempted. But money does not read footnotes. Money reads fear. And fear is precisely what Uganda exported.

What followed was what the governor had predicted, word for word. The shilling, trading at 3,604 in March, began falling. By October 8, Reuters reported it had weakened more than 11 per cent since January. Commercial banks were quoting 4,040, 4,090, some reaching 4,100 — the worst depreciation in Uganda’s modern history.

Offshore investors began selling government securities and moving to safer markets. Manufacturers rushed to buy dollars. Energy companies faced higher import costs as global oil prices rose. On October 6, opposition leader Joel Ssenyonyi stood in parliament — not to oppose, but to remind: “We are going to have substantial depreciation of the Uganda currency because of our balance of payments, which are to be greatly destabilised by the sovereignty bill.” He quoted the governor’s April warning back to the chamber. “It is biting hard,” he said.

Biting hard is an understatement. Traders in Kikuubo market are struggling as Uganda Revenue Authority calculates import duties at the new exchange rate. Every container arriving through Mombasa costs millions more. Mbale legislator Karim Masaba appealed to the revenue authority to hold August rates because traders cannot absorb the difference. Fuel, which cost 6,529 shillings per litre in August according to the Ministry of Finance, now sells for between 7,000 and 8,000 shillings in Gulu, Arua and Mbarara. The motorcycle taxi rider who once earned 20,000 shillings a day now spends it entirely on fuel.

On Independence Day, October 9, President Yoweri Museveni offered his response. He was “totally against” the governor’s proposal to deploy dollar reserves to stabilise the shilling. He said the depreciating currency benefits coffee exporters. And he reduced a national currency crisis to a single image: imported wigs.

He forgot that Uganda imports fuel to transport that coffee. Fertiliser to grow it. Medicine because people are unwell.

The Bank of Uganda, its hands tied, could not sell dollars. Instead, on September 24, it raised cash reserve requirements from 11 per cent to 13.5 per cent — restricting shilling liquidity to reduce dollar demand. It is the monetary equivalent of tying your legs because your head aches.

Who is sovereign now? The minister who can declare any Ugandan a foreign agent? Or the nurse in Manchester now afraid to send money home lest she appears on a government list? The legislators who signed the Bill in an air-conditioned room? Or the mother in Owino market who cannot afford rice because transport costs have doubled?

Uganda wanted to trap one man who was in America. Instead, it trapped itself.

A country without reserves is not sovereign. The governor told parliament in April. A country that drives away 2.5 billion dollars of its own citizens’ earnings to punish one political opponent has surrendered the sovereignty it claimed to protect.

You can minimise imports. You cannot minimise hunger. You can refuse to deploy reserves. You cannot refuse the reality that Ugandans are suffering.

Uganda was warned in April. The Bill passed in May. The country is weeping in October.

History will record that when Uganda had the chance to listen, it chose to clap instead.

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