Dear Reality,

I hope this letter finds you unbothered, because I am completely bothered.

Today, I watched a video where Ugandan traders – actual, breathing adults with responsibilities
are explaining how it costs more to move food within Uganda than to import it from a country
where water is more expensive than Wi-Fi. These men and women are trying to get Irish potatoes and Tomatoes from point A to point B in a country that can grow everything and yet they might as well be transporting diamonds on horseback.

Fuel is expensive. Roads are death traps. Inputs like fertilizer? You either take a bank loan or sell your liver. And what are doing to solve this? We are sending in the army. Not to fix anything, mind you. Just to hover over agriculture like an overbearing uncle who doesn’t know what he’s doing but insists on taking over the grill.

I am writing this to let you know I am formally resigning from pretending any of this makes sense. I can’t rationalise why a country with two rainy seasons is importing food from a desert. I can’t pretend it’s normal that farmers – NRM’s own voters are broke, angry, and still expected to clap while planting with bare hands.

You know what’s wild? These are the people who have faithfully voted yellow since dinosaurs roamed the earth. And now, they can’t afford a bag of maize. Their reward? Military run farming programs and soaring costs for inputs no one can afford. The government doesn’t even pretend to help. They just smile, wave, and hand over the farming sector to generals.

So here we are. The loyal are starving. The disloyal are shouting. And the leader is preparing another speech about “economic independence” while importing rice with borrowed money.

I’m tired, Reality. I’m tired of hoping. Tired of headlines. Tired of speeches about “vision” when people can’t afford onions. The problem isn’t the rain. Or the soil. Or even the traders. It’s the leadership. Or more accurately the hoarding of leadership.

I’m done pretending. I’m eating my overpriced posho in silence now.

Warmest regrets,
A Formerly Hopeful Ugandan