Every dark cloud has a silver lining. In other words, behind or around every problem, there can be a glimmer of good, whether a lesson learned or an unexpected opportunity.
When the Omukama (King) of Tooro, Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru Rukidi IV was announced dead on August 27, as if the cloud of inconsolable loss hovering over the entire nation and beyond was not enough, the chain of events that ensued lifted the veil on what seemed like protracted tensions that had long simmered beneath the quiet kingdom on the Western edge of Uganda.
The revelation of an alleged heir to the throne – a young baby said to have been sired by Oyo – would be a flashpoint that threw the kingdom into pandemonium as the Babiito elders led by the Musuuga Charles Kamurasi disputed the existence of the such heir whom they claimed they weren’t aware of. The rift, not just within Tooro but the wider public, grew wider towards the day of the burial of the King when the Babiito supreme body announced the successor of Oyo to the anguish of the royal family led by Queen Mother Best Kemigisa, Princess Ruth Komuntale and Princess Elizabeth Bagaaya.
The battle lines had been drawn. On one side, the Musuuga playing custodian of traditional norms and guide to transition. On the other side, Batebe (Princess Royal) Komuntale protesting what she termed “stupid drama”. For those on the internet, the natural choice was to reach for popcorn and pick a side between Team Musuuga and Team Baby King.
As the country comes to terms with the loss and Oyo’s grave is still fresh, a TV news anchor has been anointed over a will, a ‘mystery son’ has become the most famous infant no one has seen, and a royal council that had spent years being consulted about very little suddenly wielded the most consequential influence on what Tooro’s next chapter will look like.
This is a story about the Winners in Tooro’s Game of Thrones…
Prince Edward Kijanangoma Rukidi, now the 14th Omukama of Tooro
In the most literal sense, Edward Kijanagoma, 56, is the epitome of victory in this messy tussle. He went to bed as a storyteller and woke up as the story. For believers in the idea that life is a zerosum game, nothing encapsulates this theory better than Edward’s fate. For you to win or succeed, someone else must lose or fail.
When Desmond Kamurasi (the preferred choice of the Succession Committee) developed cold feet over the idea of succeeding Oyo, Edward who was second on the list filled the vacuum. The Babiito royal clan’s succession committee publicly declared him the 14th Omukama of Tooro, and he performed key burial rituals (casting nine coffee berries into the grave) that signal the transfer of authority.
He would later be announced by the Musuuga during the Orukurato (a sitting of Tooro Kingdom’s legislative body) further cementing his legitimacy. Unless his position is formally challenged in the courts of law, he holds the de facto mantle of king‑elect with his coronation set for September 29.
Omujwera Musuuga Charles Kamurasi
Up until August 27 when the tragic news of Omukama Oyo’s demise broke, it is fair to say the word ‘Musuuga’ was limited within the confines of the Tooro lexicon. His power was probably only known among the Babiito of Tooro, the palace quarters and the Orukurato. Then the King died and Charles Kamurasi’s life would never be the same again. His title went from near-invisible in national discourse to a term ordinary Ugandans now recognise, in under three weeks. It quickly became clear that in the period between the death of a King of Tooro and the coronation of the new King, the Musuuga is the showrunner, his word is the law and he is the embodiment of Tooro’s customs. Musuuga was and is still viewed as hero and villain in equal measure, but that is only because as the cliché goes…. You can’t have your cake and eat it. Those who side with him argue it is noble to stand by personal principles even when they are unpopular than to constantly change your stance to please others.
The Musuuga (head of the Babiito clan from which the Kings of Tooro trace their lineage) emerged as the kingdom’s central power broker. Owing to the steadfast leadership that his admirers praise him for, a fundraising campaign (targeting Ushs 500m) within Tooro kingdom is currently underway to raise funds and buy him a new vehicle. If you are a regular on X, you have probably come across a mockup cover page of TIME magazine with the Musuuga as the Man of the Year.
The Babiito royal clan
When the Succession Committee announced Prince Edward as the next Omukama of Tooro, there were undertones that were easy to miss in the messaging and tone. It seemed like from their perspective, this was a climax of a long struggle to regain control over a hijjacked kingdom and that finally, they had emerged as victors. “Babiito were yearning to have a King who is of age, not a child, and we have granted them that,” said Moses Musinguzi the spokesperson of the Babiito clan.
It should be noted that an earlier flashpoint in the tensions between the Babiito elders and Oyo’s family came when Oyo himself became king as a three‑year‑old after his father’s death in 1995. Some Babiito elders then argued he was too young and that his uncle should rule, leading to litigation before Oyo was confirmed as Omukama. This set a precedent for clan elders challenging the immediate royal family’s preferred successor. Later, Babiito leaders accused Oyo’s administration of transferring kingdom land titles into the king’s personal name and mismanaging assets, prompting public confrontations between the clan and palace officials.
In the view of the Babiito, therefore, a transition of power to the Kijanangoma lineage means trimming Queen Mother Best Kemigisa’s power and influence over the affairs and resources of the Kingdom.
King Oyo and his ‘son’
Since word of his demise swept through the globe with a chilling effect, and revelations were made of his alleged son, numerous Ugandans have rallied behind this mysterious baby, rooting for him to be the next King. One would argue, this was Ugandans’ way of demonstrating how much emotional connection they had formed with the 34-year-old King. If they did not give a rat’s arse about Oyo’s legacy or had not been won over by his warm personality, possibly few would care whether his offspring was next King or not.
Whether or not the child is ultimately recognized, the reported existence of King Oyo’s son has instantly made him a central figure in the succession equation. If courts or negotiations affirm the will’s priority clause, he becomes the ultimate victor; even if not, his guardians gain bargaining power and potential benefits from any compromise.
If indeed the afterlife exists and Oyo has been watching the events of the last few weeks, it is hard to argue he does not feel a sense of pride towards the perception that the public had towards him. The controversy around whether or not his son exists aside, the idea that Ugandans united behind the ‘Baby Oyo Defence Forces’ banner and were willing to cross oceans to see this baby coronated, should be enough for the fallen King to rest in peace.
The media
What is a news story if it is not sprinkled with a good measure of drama, mystery and controversy? The Tooro succession crisis arrived like a producer’s and editor’s dream package: a boy‑king gone too soon, a will that names a son nobody has produced, clan elders who prefer a TV anchor, and palace matriarchs who refuse to be written out of the script.
Ugandan news outlets suddenly had a rolling series with built‑in twists guaranteeing clicks, shares, and water‑cooler debates. International wires and broadcasters, always hunting for “Africa royalty plus politics,” found a neat narrative of tradition versus modernity, custom versus courts, and state power versus clan authority, turning a kingdom’s grief into prime copy for global audiences.
During the funeral service at St. John’s Cathedral in Fort Portal, Culture Minister, Gen Henry Tumukunde confessed; “I was called by all media houses in the world. BBC, CNN, Norwegian News Agency, people I have never heard about. All people called us. You [Batooro] should thank your young King for doing miracles.”
In the end, the real throne may still be disputed, but the media’s crown is secure: ratings up, relevance restored, and editors everywhere quietly thanking the gods of controversy for a story that writes itself. Regional correspondents like Julius Nabimanya (NBS TV) and Alex Ashaba (Daily Monitor) were not only filing daily lead stories, they had quickly became subject matter experts on Tooro affairs. Tayari West TV, the 19-month-old Runyakitara broadcaster got the much-needed national story to amplify its programming to a wider and new audience. Some netizens why the TV had a better picture than other legacy broadcasters.
Alan Kasuja’s passionate team at Uganda Media Centre had leveraged the events on September 6 when Oyo’s body was received at Entebbe Airport, to create much-needed timely and compelling visual content that local and international news outlets would rely on to report on the story. This was consistent through the final day of Oyo’s send-off.
The Queen Mother, Best Kemigisa
Whereas at face value, it would appear like the Queen Mother lost her quest to immortalize her son through inheritance of the throne, that would be a simplistic viewpoint.
If King Oyo’s global send‑off felt less like a local funeral and more like a state‑level mourning for a modernising monarch, much of that credit belongs to the woman who raised him: Queen Mother Best Kemigisa. She became regent when Oyo ascended at three, shielding the child behind the crown and guiding him until he came of age in 2010, effectively serving as both mother and guardian of the institution. Tributes from the President, Ministers, the private sector, cultural institutions and the public highlighted Oyo’s admirable leadership attributes and the causes he championed – precisely the kind of legacy a boy does not craft alone at age three, but one a determined mother‑regent helps build over decades. In satirical terms, while everyone else was busy claiming thrones, wills, and legal opinions, Kemigisa quietly collected the most durable prize of all: the widely shared belief that the King the world admired was, in large part, the son she raised.
In her speech at the funeral, she used adjectives like “peace maker”, “kind”, “God-fearing”, “humble”, “respectful”, “down to earth” and “caring” to describe the son.
“As a mother, while raising the King, I made sure I kept his dignity intact and in high esteem. In all the schools that the King attended, he was always well behaved, he performed well and was down to earth despite his position as a King,” Kemigisa told mourners, outlining the prestigious schools the young monarch attended.
Amidst the chaos and grief, bits of her speech sounded like a mother proud of shepherding a legacy that was undeniable.
“Our King made history as a child. He has still made history in death. Everything he did from the day he was born was remarkable. We are grateful to God.”
