By Spy Uganda Investigations Desk
Interdiction- BakerThe storm swirling around Inspector General of Government (IGG) Beti Olive Namisango Kamya is fast becoming the most consequential battle of her career. At the centre of the tempest lies the interdiction of Mr. Baker Mugaino, Commissioner for Land Registration, whose suspension sparked a bitter institutional clash, culminating in President Yoweri Museveni’s furious intervention.
Museveni, in a sharply worded letter, reprimanded the IGG for interdicting a presidential appointee without his knowledge, directing that Mugaino be reinstated immediately. “Why was I not consulted prior to this action being taken?” the president fumed, describing the move as irregular and contrary to his authority as appointing power. For a head of state renowned for tight control over appointments, this was no mere oversight; it was a political slight that struck at the heart of his patronage system.
Yet Kamya, rather than yield to legal counsel, doubled down. Against the Attorney General’s advice not to proceed with interdiction, and in outright defiance of standing court orders, she pursued Mugaino with unrelenting zeal. Ironically, the same courts she disregarded were later invoked by her office to have the land commissioner controversially committed to Luzira prison. This contradiction—championing judicial authority when it suits her but discarding it when it stands in her way—has intensified suspicion that her fight was more personal crusade than institutional duty.
What made matters worse was that Kamya appeared to have acted entirely on her own, bypassing even the line ministry that supervises the embattled official. Minister for Lands Judith Nabakooba wrote directly to President Museveni, disowning the interdiction and pointing out that as the political head of the ministry, she had not been consulted. For Mugaino, a civil servant squarely under her docket, one would have expected at least a courtesy briefing. Her absence in the entire process underscored the sense that Kamya was operating unilaterally, without coordination or institutional courtesy.
The Permanent Secretary (PS) of Lands reinforced this position by issuing a formal recall of Mugaino. In the letter, the PS instructed: “You are hereby directed to resume your duties as Commissioner, Land Registration with immediate effect. You will receive your full salary, and all arrears for the period you were on forced leave will be paid in full.” This directive not only restored Mugaino to his office but also guaranteed him back pay, amounting to a resounding institutional rejection of Kamya’s interdiction.
Kamya’s history offers little comfort. Her earlier tenure as Minister for Lands remains etched in the public memory as a turbulent era. She cultivated a reputation for using her position not merely to enforce government policy but to broker behind-the-scenes deals and entrench power networks. Under her watch, the lands sector became a theatre of endless anxiety, with allegations of favoritism, manipulation, and backroom maneuvering dogging her every move. The current Mugaino saga therefore revives long-standing perceptions of Kamya as an official who thrives in wielding office as an instrument of negotiation rather than neutral service.
But this time, the cost is steeper. Museveni’s displeasure has been laid bare. His irritation, clearly expressed in writing, signals that Kamya’s insubordination has crossed a line. For a president who values loyalty above all else, the IGG’s defiance of his directive amounts to political disobedience—an unforgivable offence in the ruling order.
Worse still, the episode has attracted the scrutiny of power brokers within the regime itself. In Gulu, during a tense meeting at General Salim Saleh’s residence, media personality Andrew Mwenda reportedly opened “a can of worms” about Kamya’s handling of Mugaino, further eroding her credibility. Mwenda’s intervention matters because Saleh, Museveni’s influential brother, is a key arbiter in disputes of this nature. If the Saleh circle views Kamya as reckless or compromised, then her fate may already be sealed.
The legal implications are equally grim. Mugaino never withdrew his court case against the IGG, meaning that if he prevails, the taxpayer will shoulder the burden of damages. Estimates suggest the government could part with hundreds of millions in compensation for wrongful arrest, humiliation, and loss of income—all consequences of an interdiction and imprisonment now deemed irregular at the highest level.
The Taxpayer’s Burden
This would not be the first time Ugandans are forced to bankroll the mistakes of powerful officials. In the past, government lost cases involving wrongfully interdicted UNRA staff, costing the Treasury billions in settlements. Similarly, KCCA’s David Ssejjakka, once interdicted on shaky grounds, was reinstated with full pay after a protracted legal fight, again at the expense of taxpayers. Even the high-profile Basajjabalaba brothers’ compensation saga remains a painful reminder of how politically driven decisions can translate into astronomical financial losses. The Mugaino case, if he wins, risks becoming yet another expensive entry on this long list of costly official overreach.
As Kamya’s term at the IGG winds down, the writing on the wall grows bolder. Instead of leaving a legacy as a fearless corruption czar, she risks being remembered for weaponising her office against political foes while shielding vested interests. Her selective application of the law, disregard for court authority, and failure to carry the confidence of the president now cast a long shadow on her credibility.
The question that lingers is whether Museveni will redeploy her to another portfolio, as he has done with errant ministers in the past, or consign her to political obscurity. But sources close to State House suggest the president is “very annoyed”—a dangerous place for any appointee to find themselves. At best, Kamya may end up in a token advisory role with little clout. At worst, she may fade altogether from the power matrix she has long navigated with dexterity.
For a woman who has reinvented herself many times—from opposition firebrand to minister in charge of Kampala, to Lands, and now IGG—the Mugaino saga might well be her final act. Instead of cementing her name in Uganda’s annals of accountability, Kamya may go down as yet another official whose ambition and overreach undermined the very institutions she was meant to protect.
