18th, August 2026
The evils that destroy individuals and societies rarely begin in their most dangerous form. They often start in small doses—something that appears harmless, tolerable, or even fashionable. If it is not resisted early, it grows, spreads, becomes normalized, and eventually causes destruction that is much harder to reverse.
I know this from personal experience.
When we were growing up as teenagers, smoking cigarettes was considered cool. The moment you started smoking, you learned to hide it from your parents and other elders. Yet the very act of hiding it should have told you that what you were doing was wrong. But despite knowing that, you continued.
I started smoking when I was 15 and finally stopped at about 36. That was roughly 21 years of self-destruction and indiscipline.
During those years, I experienced many embarrassing moments. Twice, I was fined for smoking on international flights, including long journeys such as Sydney to New York and Sydney to Los Angeles. But two incidents eventually forced me to confront myself.
In the year 2000, when my son was born, I was staying with him in the same room, then I travelled to Nairobi with my senior brother, Enos Tumusiime, on business. We checked into my favourite hotel, the InterContinental. As soon as I entered my room, I lit a Benson & Hedges cigarette. By the time I was on my second or third cigarette, the fire alarm went off.
Over the intercom, my family name was being called and everyone was being instructed to leave the room because it was supposedly on fire.
When Enos heard our family name, he came running. He found me still holding a cigarette.
That evening, I narrowly escaped a serious beating from my brother. He called me every bad name you can imagine when a Munyankore man is truly angry. But beneath his anger was a message I have never forgotten.
In his own words, he told me: “If you want to smoke yourself to death, do it. But never call yourself by that name, Bwaniaga. Never humiliate or bring shame to that name, because your father never touched cigarettes or alcohol. If you want to go to hell, go alone—leave his name out of it.”
Those words stayed with me.
At the time, my son was constantly ever in my mind because We shared a room and the same general space virtually 24 hours a day when ever I was home .
For several days, I continued enjoying my cigarettes, but Enos’s words would not leave my mind either.
Then one morning, I looked at the packets of cigarettes beside my bed. I gathered them together and asked myself a simple question:
What benefit have I gained from smoking?
The answer was zero.
I told myself: No more cigarettes. No more cigars. No more embarrassment.
And I stopped.
Uganda’s Smoking Habit Is Corruption
Today, I see another evil destroying our society: corruption.
Like smoking, corruption begins in small doses. At first, people excuse it. Then they tolerate it. Eventually, they participate in it. Before long, it becomes so widespread that people no longer recognize it as an abnormality.
I have seen young ministers travelling to districts across Uganda in an effort to identify and confront corrupt officials. That is commendable. Even where they fail, at least they are making an effort.
But the fight against corruption cannot be reduced to Balaam Barugahara, Lady Namere, or a handful of officials confronting corrupt individuals. That is an unfair fight. The corrupt often outnumber those trying to fight corruption—and, sadly, some of the institutions and offices expected to fight corruption are themselves not completely free from it.
If the Executive is genuinely serious about fighting corruption, why is the fight so selective?
Let us look at some of the things that have become normalized in our country.
Why should a private citizen be escorted by army officers or police officers?
Why should private individuals have convoys of army or police vehicles pushing ordinary citizens off the roads?
Why should private citizens be allowed to drive numberless vehicles or use government vehicles while security personnel force other road users out of their way?
These are not merely matters of privilege. They point to a much deeper problem: the abuse of public power and public resources.
If someone genuinely feels unsafe, why not hire private security?
If those claiming to fight corruption cannot see the impunity taking place on our roads, then perhaps we are not living in the same country.
What started in small doses has spread across the country.
This abuse of power is arguably bigger than many of the corruption cases being pursued in the districts. It is the culture of untouchability—the belief that certain people are above the law—that creates an environment in which crime, corruption and impunity flourish.
What Does the World See When It Sees Uganda?
I can say this with some authority because I have travelled to every continent in the world. Whenever I meet people and tell them that I am from Uganda, Idi Amin is no longer the first thing that comes to mind.
Today, there are three things that too often define the image of our country:
1. Boda bodas.
2. Potholes.
3. Rubbish along our roadsides.
And these are not simply cosmetic problems. They are symptoms of governance failure, indiscipline and corruption.
Our laws require motor vehicles and motorcycles to be properly licensed. Drivers and riders are required to have the appropriate permits. Traffic laws must be obeyed. Helmets are required for riders and passengers. Traffic lights and zebra crossings are supposed to protect pedestrians and regulate movement.
Yet what do we see?
A huge number of motorcycle riders operating without proper documentation. Traffic rules routinely ignored. Helmets often disregarded. Zebra crossings treated as decorations. Traffic lights ignored. Passengers carried in dangerous conditions.
Is there a bigger form of everyday corruption than this?
We do not need to look very far for examples. Our neighbours have demonstrated that cities can regulate boda bodas. In Nairobi, boda bodas face restrictions in parts of the central business district. Addis Ababa has also taken measures to control motorcycle operations. In many cities, boda boda stages are deliberately located away from busy pedestrian and commercial areas to allow people and goods to move safely.
Why can’t Uganda do the same?
Over the years, I used to walk from Naguru to Old Kampala and back. Today, I cannot comfortably walk from my home to Ntinda.
In my own city of Mbarara, crossing the road can feel like a life-threatening exercise—even at a zebra crossing.
If I cannot safely walk in my own city, how do we expect a tourist to do it?
I once had an appointment with a diplomat who lived in Nakasero while my appointment was in Kololo. He arrived hours late. His explanation was simple: he had promised himself never to drive in Uganda.
I asked him why.
He told me that years earlier he had witnessed a vehicle collide with a boda boda carrying three students. He had seen similar accidents several times and had become deeply uncomfortable with the danger on our roads.
What does it take for us to stop these preventable tragedies?
Stop Cleaning the Compound While the House Is Full of Garbage
Sometimes I wonder whether we are trying to clean the compound while the sitting room and bedroom are full of garbage.
We celebrate small victories against corruption while ignoring the larger culture of impunity around us.
We pursue individual corrupt officials while tolerating systems that allow powerful individuals to behave as though the law does not apply to them.
We talk about fighting corruption while failing to enforce basic traffic laws.
We talk about attracting tourists while allowing our cities to become difficult and dangerous to navigate.
We talk about development while allowing potholes, rubbish and disorder to define our urban environment.
What benefit are we getting from this madness?
Perhaps the most dangerous form of corruption is not the money stolen from a government account. It is the corruption that becomes so common that society stops being shocked by it.
That is how the evil spreads.
It begins with a small dose.
Someone looks the other way.
Another person breaks the rule because they know nobody will challenge them.
Someone powerful is given special treatment.
A traffic officer accepts a small bribe.
A rider ignores a traffic light.
A government vehicle is used as though it were private property.
A powerful person’s convoy pushes ordinary citizens off the road.
A zebra crossing becomes meaningless.
A pothole remains for years.
Rubbish accumulates along the road.
And eventually, what was once unacceptable becomes normal.
That is exactly how smoking became a 21-year habit for me.
I had to stop and ask myself: What benefit am I getting from this?
Uganda must ask itself the same question:
What benefit are we getting from corruption, impunity, disorder and the selective application of the law?
The answer is the same as the one I found with smoking:
Zero.
We cannot defeat corruption by treating only the symptoms. We must confront the culture that allows corruption to survive.
We must enforce the law fairly, regardless of who is involved. We must hold the powerful accountable. We must restore discipline on our roads. We must regulate boda bodas properly. We must clean our cities. We must protect pedestrians. We must stop the abuse of public resources.
Most importantly, we must resist the small doses of evil before they become a national addiction.
Because by the time the disease has spread throughout the body, treating it becomes much harder.
Uganda does not need selective cleaning. We need to clean the entire house.
About the author;
Barnabas Taremwa Bwaniaga is a Senior Global citizen
