With a heavy heart and deep gratitude, I celebrate the life of Hon. Mary Karooro Okurut whose sudden death has left hundreds of thousands shocked and in grief.
Hon. Karooro was a woman whose legacy transcends titles and politics. She was a mother to many, a mentor to truth-tellers, and a rare voice of reason in an increasingly turbulent National Resistance Movement (NRM) party governance. To us, she was simply Auntie Mary.
Mary was never provincial in her thinking or living. Having got married to the late Stanislaus Okurut, she crossed tribal lines, a silent but very powerful quiet but powerful witness to her belief in cosmopolitanism, Pan Africanism, and strong belief in unity beyond nationalities. Her life was a montage of inclusive development, compassion, and unwavering nationalism.
Mary had a special place in her heart for journalists. A graduate of Literature in English, she has taught many Ugandan journalists. She had a soft spot for critical, stubborn, and truth-driven ones who she often cautioned with a motherly care. She had the presence of mind to understand that conviction and professional reporting was not rebellion, and that patriotism sometimes speaks in uncomfortable truths. This was a very special trait in a system full of unyielding and rigid regime hawks. When objective voices were misunderstood or misreported to the highest authorities, she would say with calm assurance: “Otafayo, niza kugambira Mzee kundaabone chance.”
(Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Mzee (President Museveni) about you when I get a chance to see him.)
And she meant it. She used her access not for self-promotion, but to defend those she believed in. She saw the fire in young trailblazers like me, and she nurtured it. Quite often she called me to help edit her weekly column, even while serving as Press Secretary to President Museveni. She trusted many us with her words, and we trusted her with our battles.
When I faced serious trouble for publishing what was true between Uganda and Rwanda, and the air grew hot with pressure from bishops, politicians, diplomats—even global icons—Mary stood firm. She promised to speak to the President about our unwavering conviction and love for Uganda. She believed in the promise of a better country, and she believed we were part of it.
For example in 2020, when COVID-19 struck and her committee faced public scrutiny, she quietly confided in me to tell the truth to the nation. She showed me the bank statements—proof that nothing that was contributed by the members of the public as the president rallied the nation had been stolen. I crafted a press release to defend her team, not because she asked for it, but because I knew she deserved it.
She called on me again, alongside Ms. Dorothy Kitaka and a child of a fallen FRONASA fighter, to help edit the list of contributors to the President’s COVID-19 fundraising initiative. The early drafts were jumbled, but she trusted us to bring clarity which improved the lists that the president often read out on live television with ease. We worked through lockdowns with special passes, earning little but giving much. She paid us 200,000 shillings each—not just in money, but in respect.
She was thrilled when I returned to school for my doctoral studies in 2020. And when a goon snatched my laptop, she promised to replace it. She did. I still use that laptop. I had hoped she would live to see my triumph around next year. But God’s ways are not ours
Mary had a gift for calming the fiercest critics. She would explain the government’s position in a soft, thoughtful way—never dismissive, always engaging. In her, we had a voice of reason within the halls of the NRM. She was our bridge, our advocate, our Auntie.
Now, the era of voices of reason is fading. Their numbers are dwindling. Even the President has said the system is stuck. And it is stuck—because those with the conviction that once took the NRA to the bush have been shoved aside, replaced by something else. If the NRM is at a crossroads, at a critical juncture, then losing voices like Mary’s is not just a loss—it is a rupture. A serious attack. For without reasonable voices to hold the balance of forces, the center cannot hold.
Hon. Mary Karooro Okurut was humble, self-effacing, patriotic, motherly, and passionate. She believed in Uganda. She believed in Africa. She believed in us.
Requiesce In Pace, Auntie Mary. You were loved. You will be missed. You will be remembered.
The author Arinaitwe Rugyendo is a senior journalist- turned scholar at Makerere University
