Uganda has just come off another general election cycle, and once again, the country found itself staring into a familiar mirror. A head of state who has led since 1986 appeared on the ballot, on track to clock four decades in power in the next 5 years, marking a staggering 40 years at the helm. This “grip on the chair” isn’t exclusive to the top office; across the country, Members of Parliament and local councilors fought tooth and nail pushing for fourth and fifth terms.
But before we point fingers solely at the political class, we must look in the mirror. As a nation, we have a systemic retirement problem. We are a nation that struggles with the “exit.” While we critique politicians for overstaying their welcome, the same stubborn refusal to pass the torch shows up everywhere power exists, and is sadly strangling our creative and business sectors. The cultural and systemic stagnation is costing us big time especially in the creative industries.
In music economies that work, artists eventually stop trying to win the moment and start building futures. Take Ugandan music. Since the early 2000s, the industry has revolved around a familiar constellation of stars, the same “big three” names who defined an era and almost three decades later, are still aggressively competing for the same spotlight, the same airwaves, same platforms/ stages, same audiences, same brand deals. Meanwhile, a new generation of artists is trying to find footing in an ecosystem where mentorship is largely absent, because some elders never stepped into elderhood; a paradox in our music industry. The pioneers are still sprinting, when they should be mapping the road.
People often marvel at how Asian owned businesses outlive their founders. The answer isn’t mystery, luck or magic. It’s succession and mentorship; intentional mentorship. It’s the early transfer of knowledge, capital, and trust to the next generation. The founder understands that legacy is not about personal relevance but rather institutional survival.
Nigeria figured this out early. Olamide turned his dominance into YBNL Nation, a label that became a launchpad for Lil Kesh, Adekunle Gold, Fireboy DML, Lyta and more recently before his departure, Asake. Similarly Don Jazzy’s Mavin Records now home to some of Afrobeats’ most globally exported stars, Rema and Ayra Starr remains a powerhouse when it comes to music. Davido’s DMW helped push Mayorkun and Perruzi into stardom and later introduced Moravey to the world. These artists didn’t shrink when they empowered others. They expanded, and so did their influence multiply as well as shape their legacies.
Now, let’s talk about the cautionary tale closer to home. Not to be “that guy” who is pocket-watching and dictating how people spend their money, but how we can we forget reports flying around last year about the legendary Ugandan artist who was rumored to have spent 1 billion UGX on an album. The primary motivation? To penetrate the Nigerian market by borrowing their sound and hoping onto collaborations; mimicking an ecosystem rather than learning from it.
With all due respect, there’s so many ways to spend such a fortune, but not choosing to copy a sound rather than learn the structure and systems that makes it successful. What does it say when resources are spent on imitation instead of infrastructure?
This writer believes that the artist could have instead studied how Olamide built systems, borrowed a leaf on how Don Jazzy discovers, nurtures and structures talents (talent development) or taken time to understand how Davido strategically collaborates with new voices in African music and shades the spotlight on them. They could have instead asked themselves how they can use what they have to shape what comes next?
Honestly, that billion shillings could have been an industry reset. Uganda has proof that this model works locally. Benon Mugumbya, of the duo Benon and Vampos, founded Swangz Avenue, a label that has since shaped some of the most influential careers in modern Ugandan pop. Artists such as Vinka, Azawi, Elijah Kitaka, Winnnie Nwagi and their success isn’t just a success story for Swangz Avenue but also a testament to what happens when intentional vision meets resources. Newer careers are birthed, and legacies maintained.
Related: Demystifying The Gender Balance Situation At Swangz Avenue.
And that distinction matters. An industry is only as strong as those with resources and how they choose to deploy them. With even a quarter of that one billion shillings, I could name six hungry, talented Ugandan artists who could have been beneficiaries from its purposeful deployment. I mean that money could have covered studio time, high-quality music videos, branding, publicity and promotion, and intentional collaborations. In three years, that investment would be recouped, but more importantly: a new generation of superstars would be born, and the legendary artist would ascend to the status of a “Kingmaker” and transition from competitor to curator, and from dancer to choreographer; an executive producer who shows up for a powerful cameo rather than fighting for a spot for spins in the club or a banger on the charts.
Careers could have been unlocked. And within three years, that investment would likely recoup itself, not just financially, but culturally. That is how icons endure and this in itself goes a long way in ensuring sustenance of the industry.
The mistake many of our veterans make is believing that stepping back equals fading away. In reality, the opposite is true. True power is being able to show up occasionally, as an executive producer, a creative director, a mentor, while the generation you shaped carries the sound forward. There is more grace in being the mentor who watered and didn’t block the light for the flowers that tried to bloom beneath you.
This is the part of the conversation Uganda keeps avoiding. Legacy is not sustained by presence alone. It is sustained by succession. At some point, every culture must decide whether it wants legends, or just long careers. And at some point, every great performer must accept the oldest rule of the stage; Even the best dancer leaves the stage.
I like how Kenyan lawyer and activist Patrick Loch Otieno Lumumba put it; “A good dancer knows when to leave the stage,”. This applies to the different aspects of life, whether: a friendship, relationship, job, sport, etc; except for this time it has been around the creative arts (music to be exact). Stages are the roles or parts you play in life, and dancing is the act of living and existing in them. Now back to the context of today’s piece, the only question is: will you leave behind a standing ovation and a successor, or an empty room?