By Gyagenda Semakula Zikusooka Ssajjabbi
As Tooro and the country at large mourn King Oyo, the succession question is already testing the kingdom’s traditions, institutions and sense of timing.
First, my condolences to the Queen Mother, Best Kemigisa, Princess Elizabeth Bagaya, Princess Ruth Komuntale, the entire Royal Family, the Babiito and all the people of Tooro on the passing of Rukirabasaija Omukama Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru Rukidi IV.
The death of a King is never an ordinary death.
For Tooro, the death of King Oyo is not merely the end of a 31-year reign. It is the closing of a remarkable chapter that began when a three-year-old boy was placed on the throne in September 1995, following the death of his father, King Patrick David Matthew Kaboyo Olimi III. I was in O Level in 1995.
I remember the country I was growing up in. Uganda’s media landscape was still in its infancy compared with what we know today. Private FM broadcasting had only recently begun to emerge, and the explosion of radio, television, newspapers, social media and digital platforms that now make information instantaneous was still unimaginable. When Oyo became King, information moved slowly. Today, information moves faster than institutions can sometimes respond to it. That difference matters.
Because as King Oyo’s body lies in state at Karuziika Palace, awaiting burial on September 12, another conversation has already begun: Who will be the next King of Tooro? And perhaps more importantly, who has the authority to answer that question? There is a tendency, particularly on social media, to describe any discussion of succession while King Oyo’s body is still lying in state as insensitive, disrespectful or even inhuman.
I understand that sentiment.
A King has died. His family is grieving. The Queen Mother is mourning her son. An aunt is mourning her nephew. A sister is mourning her brother. The wider Royal Family is mourning a brother, son and relative. The Babiito are mourning one of their own. The people of Tooro are still coming to terms with the loss of a monarch who had occupied the throne for most of his life.
I understand why many people find that disturbing. There is a time for mourning (Ecclesiastes 3) and there is a time for succession. But these are not necessarily mutually exclusive in Tooro culture. In fact, the history of 1995 tells us precisely the opposite.
King Oyo himself was identified as the next King before his father’s body was buried. That is an important historical and cultural fact because it changes the way we should understand the present debate.
The throne cannot remain vacant as a fundamental principle of monarchy; the institution cannot simply be left without a successor. When a reigning King dies, the Kingdom must know who comes next. That does not mean the successor must immediately be enthroned. It does not mean the coronation must take place before the funeral. And it certainly does not mean that the dead King should be treated as though he has already been replaced.
It means something much simpler: The Kingdom must establish the continuity of the Crown. That is what happened in 1995. King Patrick Olimi Kaboyo died on August 26, 1995. His son, Oyo, was identified as his successor before his father’s burial and was subsequently enthroned on September 12, 1995. The distinction is crucial. Succession was determined. The fallen King was mourned and buried. The new King was then enthroned. That sequence is not a contradiction. It is Tooro’s tradition. And it is precisely the distinction that appears to be missing from much of today’s public conversation.
Prince George Desmond Kamurasi and the constitutional question
The emergence of George Desmond Kamurasi’s name has inevitably added another layer to the succession debate. Kamurasi is from the royal family and is reported to be a first cousin of the late King Oyo. His reported selection has now brought Articles 16 and 17 of the Tooro Kingdom’s constitutional framework into sharper public discussion.
Article 16 is being invoked in relation to the authority of the reigning Omukama to nominate a successor in writing, while Article 17 is being discussed in relation to the circumstances in which Omukama dies without such a nomination.
If those provisions apply in the manner currently being argued, then the central constitutional question cannot be answered by Facebook posts, X tweets, WhatsApp messages or political talk show debates. It must be answered by the institutions of Tooro. There is no justification for turning a potentially sensitive dynastic matter into social-media gossip.
This is where my memory of 1995 becomes important.
Oyo’s succession had already been determined. Because he was a child, regency was established to administer the Kingdom until he could assume the responsibilities of the Crown. John Sanyu Katuramu, then Tooro Prime Minister, was one of the regents. What followed during the early years of Oyo’s reign is part of Tooro’s difficult history. There were serious disagreements within the royal establishment, including conflicts involving Prince Happy Kijanangoma and Katuramu.
Kijanangoma was murdered in Fort Portal on March 25, 1999. Katuramu was subsequently convicted in connection with the murders and sentenced to death on September 12, 2001, according to Court record. He was released from Luzira Prison on September 11, 2021. These dates are so striking!
September 12, 1995: Oyo is enthroned. September 12, 2001: Katuramu is sentenced to death. September 11, 2021: Katuramu is released from Luzira, September 12, 2026: Oyo is to be buried. History does not necessarily repeat itself, but it can leave instructions.
The instruction I take from 1995 is not that Tooro should fear succession. It is that succession requires strong institutions.
The late King was an adult. He had ruled for more than three decades. The Kingdom has a constitutional framework, established institutions and a generation of people with memory of the turbulence that accompanied the early years of his reign. Tooro therefore has something it did not have in 1995: institutional memory. It should use it.
The current succession should not be determined by the loudest voices on social media. And it should not be distorted by the understandable impatience of a public that wants to know what happens next. It should be determined by Tooro’s Constitution, its customs, its royal lineage and the institutions entrusted with safeguarding the Crown. Let King Oyo be mourned, but let Tooro continue. There is no contradiction between mourning a King and securing the continuity of his Kingdom. The two things can happen together. That is what happened in 1995.
I was an O Level student when a three-year-old boy became King of Tooro in 1995. Thirty-one years later, I watch the Kingdom prepare to bury the man that boy became. The circumstances are different, but the constitutional question is remarkably familiar.
Perhaps the most important question facing Tooro is therefore not simply, “Who will be King?” It is: Can Tooro determine its next King without repeating the conflicts that surrounded the beginning of Oyo’s reign?
That is the real test. And if Tooro passes it, King Oyo’s legacy will be more than the length of his reign.
For now, let the Kingdom mourn.
Let the Babiito perform their rites.
Let the Royal Family grieve.
Let King Oyo be laid to rest.
May The Loving Soul of Rukirabasaija Omukama Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru Rukidi IV Rest in Eternal Glory until the day of Our Lord Jesus Christ!
The Writer is a Journalist, Lawyer and Church Minister
