By Spy Uganda
Last month, on a quiet Sunday night, The Mighty Spy Uganda broke a startling story: Inspector General of Government (IGG) Beti Kamya had ordered the interdiction of Commissioner of Land Registration, Baker Mugaino — a move that insiders have since likened to stepping on a live 3-phase electric wire. The backlash was swift and unrelenting, exposing not only legal irregularities but also deep political undercurrents.
Kamya’s directive, sources say, was made without legal justification or affording Mugaino a chance to explain his role in a long-running land ownership dispute at Makerere. What Kamya appeared not to understand was that Mugaino was merely implementing a court order — one of at least eight rulings issued since 2009 in a legal saga spanning over 15 years. In fact, Mugaino himself had previously been sued for failure to enforce earlier court orders.
Ironically, this time, by fulfilling the mandate of the latest ruling, Mugaino found himself in Kamya’s crosshairs. It’s worth noting that Kamya is not a lawyer by profession — a fact that several insiders believe played a role in the flawed decision. “She should have consulted her legal team,” one source remarked bluntly.
But what happened next turned the tables entirely.
According to credible sources within the corridors of power, Lands Permanent Secretary (PS) Dorcas Okalany declined to issue the six-month interdiction letter as instructed by Kamya. A seasoned bureaucrat with an eye for legality, Akol recognized the move as potentially illegal and refused to be dragged into a legal quagmire. Instead, she took the path of mediation.
In a closed-door meeting, Akol reportedly told Mugaino that she would not release the interdiction letter, warning that doing so could implicate her in legal wrongdoing. Instead, she proposed a face-saving compromise: Mugaino would quietly take a 14-day leave of absence, simply to appease Kamya. Mugaino agreed, but requested a formal letter — which the PS smartly declined to provide.
The drama didn’t end there.
Shortly thereafter, Mugaino, together with a few allies, met President Yoweri Museveni and Gen. Salim Saleh to brief them on what they described as Kamya’s “poli-tricks” in the IG’s office. Museveni, according to insiders, was unequivocal: “She must stop that rubbish.”
In characteristic style, the President didn’t address Kamya directly. Instead, he tasked Attorney General Kiryowa Kiwanuka to handle the matter legally. It was this strategic move that triggered a swift court intervention, effectively halting Kamya’s campaign against the Lands Office. The court issued what sources called a “stop button” on her actions, drawing a clear legal line she could no longer cross.
“Kamya underestimated Mugaino,” said one highly placed source. “What she doesn’t know is why he’s in that office.”
Indeed, Mugaino is no ordinary bureaucrat. His appointment as Commissioner was quietly influenced by the President himself — a product of the inner workings of Uganda’s political machinery. What’s more, Mugaino is married to the daughter of the late General Benon Biraaro, a revered bush war hero, lending him significant political capital and deep-rooted connections.
As the dust settles, Kamya finds herself outmaneuvered — not just by legal protocol, but by the very power structures she may have overlooked. Meanwhile, Mugaino returns to his role, emboldened and vindicated, in what is now being viewed as a rare checkmate in Uganda’s complex chessboard of power.
