I write this, not as a politician, not as a civil servant, but as a concerned teacher, a Ugandan teacher whose chalk-stained hands have shaped the minds of this nation. And today, those hands tremble. Not from age, but from betrayal.
I rise to cry out for the unsung heroes who carry the weight of this nation’s future on their shoulders: the teachers of Uganda.
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We taught them how to read. We taught them how to reason. We taught them how to lead. And now they lead us into poverty, humiliation, and silence. Every government official passed through the hands of a teacher. But now, those hands are left empty. No staff quarters, no transport, no medical allowance, no facilitation. Just pressure. Pressure from the very people we once guided with love and patience.
Imagine entering a classroom to teach a child who will one day sit in Parliament and vote against your salary. Imagine marking the book of someone who will grow up to call you “just a teacher.” Imagine giving guidance to a future leader who will later deny you the dignity of a decent life. If only we knew these idiots in our classes, we could have refused to mark their books. Refused to guide them. Refused to polish the boots that would later kick us.
We are expected to inspire, yet we are denied inspiration. We are expected to uplift, yet we are crushed. We are expected to be role models, yet we are forced to beg. UGX 400,000 a month? That’s not a salary—it’s airtime. It’s an insult wrapped in a payslip.
A teacher in this country earns 400,000 shillings a month or less. It looks like money until you try to live on it.
Let’s break it down:
- Breakfast: 2,000/=
- Lunch: 5,000/=
- Supper: 4,500/=
That’s 11,500 shillings a day on food. Multiply that by 30 days, and you get 345,000 shillings. That’s what remains after trying to eat simple meals just to survive.
At the end of the month, the teacher is left with only 55,000 shillings.
The Unanswered Questions
I want the nation to listen:
- Where is the money for rent?
- Where is the money for clothing?
- Where is the money for treatment?
- Where is the money for transport?
- Where is the money for school fees for their own children?
- Where is airtime or data for lesson preparation?
- Where is the money for soap, salon, and smearing oil?
These are not just questions, they are the silent tears behind every teacher’s smile.
We walk miles to school. We teach on empty stomachs. We sleep in rented rooms with leaking roofs. We fall sick and treat ourselves with hope. And still, we show up. Still, we teach. Still, we smile. But inside, we are dying.
Uganda, how do you forget the womb that bore your wisdom? How do you starve the very soul of your development? How do you silence the voices that once taught you to speak?
We are not asking for luxury. We are asking for dignity. For recognition. For justice. We are asking to be seen—not just as tools of instruction, but as pillars of transformation.
To those in power: remember your first teacher. Remember the one who held your hand when you couldn’t write your name. Remember the one who stayed late to help you pass. And then ask yourself, what have you done for them?
Before anyone thinks about forcing teachers back to classrooms, let’s pause and face the painful truth behind every chalk mark on the board.
A Nation That Neglects Its Teachers Is Building Its Own Failure
When teachers lose morale, the entire education system collapses. The students suffer. The schools decay. And the future of the nation darkens.
Let me remind us all—a nation’s greatness is not built by the wealth of its politicians, but by the value it places on its teachers.
If we truly want development, then we must start where development begins—in the hands of the teacher.
What Must Be Done
- Raise teachers’ salaries to meet the cost of living. 400,000/= is not a salary—it is survival.
- Provide housing, transport, and medical allowances to all teachers. These are not luxuries; they are basic rights.
- Respect and empower teachers. Stop treating them as beggars; they are builders of destinies.
- Let communities, churches, and leaders speak up for teachers. Silence is betrayal.
A Word to the Public
Before you criticize a teacher for wearing torn shoes and clothes or looking tired, remember—after surviving on 400,000/= a month, they are left with peanuts or nothing. Not even enough to buy a pen to mark your child’s book.
So instead of judging teachers, stand with them. Instead of silencing their complaints, amplify their cry.
When a teacher loses hope, the entire nation loses its future.
Conclusion
My fellow teachers, even when the world seems to forget your value, remember—you are the backbone of this nation. So keep standing. Keep teaching. Keep believing. Because one day, Uganda will realize that without teachers, there is no tomorrow.
Dear politicians, we are tired. We are angry. We are awake. And we will speak. Because if we don’t, the next generation of teachers will inherit our pain. And Uganda will lose its soul.
Let me shut up before much tears flow off my eyes.
“FOR GOD AND MY COUNTRY”
Kangave Mudi
National Chairperson Private Teachers Platform Uganda
0757525254
Email: mudikangave@gmail.com
