To begin, could you share your backstory for perspective? For those meeting you for the first time, how would you introduce yourself beyond your professional title as Dr. Robin Kibuka?
I’m Ugandan, born and raised. At an early age, I left for the United States, where I completed my education and eventually stayed on to work at the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for 32 years. Originally, I hadn’t intended to stay that long, but circumstances—particularly Idi Amin’s continued rule—made it difficult to return. Over time, I settled, raised a family, and built a career.
I retired from the IMF in 2009 and returned to Uganda, where I embarked on an entirely new and unexpected chapter, working mainly in governance and senior management. I have been fortunate to serve on a number of boards and to teach executive courses at Strathmore University. The combination of work experience and teaching has been mutually enriching: challenges faced in the boardroom often become case studies for the classroom, and insights from the classroom feed back into boardroom discussions. It has been a virtuous cycle, and I consider myself very lucky.
On a personal note, I’m a family man—blessed with a wife, four children, and now five grandchildren. That’s a little about who I am.
At what age did you leave Uganda, and was it connected to your parents working abroad? Considering how difficult and expensive it was to study and live overseas at that time, what was that experience like for you?
I was 16 years old when I left Uganda. Interestingly, my parents were still here; they hadn’t moved abroad. What set everything in motion was an experience I had at Kings College Budo. Two of my close friends were selected to spend a year in the United States under the American Field Service Program. I genuinely believed I should have been chosen—my grades were better—and I was quite upset about it at the time. That disappointment, however, primed me for what was to come.
In December 1964, I happened to meet an American who was spending a year at Mukono Theological College. His name was Rev. John Thomas Walker. He was also looking for a Ugandan boy to take back to his school in the United States. Within 30 minutes of our meeting, he made me an offer—and I accepted it. And, as they say, the rest is history.
When you left for the United States, did you have any family or relatives there to support you?
I did have a relative—an aunt who was married and living in the United States—and they were very helpful to me. In addition, Rev. John Walker I had met in Uganda also had a wife, and together, these two families looked after me when I arrived. Interestingly, the Rev. Walker later left the school-St. Paul’s School in New Hampshire and moved to Washington to work at the National Cathedral. Over the years, he rose through the ranks and eventually became the first Black Bishop of the Washington Diocese. So that’s how it all came together.
What was it like travelling and flying in those days compared to today? And when you first left Uganda, which route did you take?
Well, back then, flying was truly a privilege. Very few people traveled by air because it was extremely expensive. In fact, my parents had to take a loan from a family friend just to afford my ticket, even though my tuition and other expenses were covered once I got to the school. To give you an idea, a plane ticket at that time cost about $1,200—a huge amount of money in 1965.
Most people today may not realize this, but the cost structure of air travel changed dramatically around 1969 when the Boeing 747 Jumbo was introduced. It could carry up to 400 passengers, and within two years, it reshaped the economics of flying. Airlines could transport more people at lower costs, making air travel more accessible. Many of the smaller, less efficient planes became obsolete and were converted into charter flights. These charter flights were far cheaper—you didn’t always fly through the fancy airports, but you got to your destination.
So, there’s been a dramatic transformation in air travel over the years.
As for my first journey, I flew from Entebbe Airport to Gatwick Airport in the UK. From there, we were transferred to Heathrow Airport, where I then boarded my direct flight to the United States. At that time, the airline I too was known as the British Overseas Airways Corporation, or BOAC—the precursor to what is now British Airways.
Looking back, leaving Uganda at a young age and living in a completely different world for many years must have shaped your experiences and the leader you eventually became. How would you say that journey impacted you?
That’s a very interesting question—and indeed, the experience had a profound impact on me. At the time, I was a student at King’s College Budo and living in Kampala, so we were familiar with city life. But when I went to the United States, everything changed. I had no family network around me, I didn’t know anyone, and I found myself at the very bottom of the social ladder.
The school I attended was extremely prestigious. Most of the students came from wealthy families—they could easily hire taxis, go into town, and spend money freely. I, on the other hand, had very limited means. I couldn’t afford to go to town unless it was absolutely necessary. Adjusting was extremely difficult: I was homesick, I lacked financial resources, the weather was harsh, and there was significant culture shock. All these challenges hit me at a young age, and I had to learn to survive entirely on my own.
My parents could no longer afford to send me money, so during the summers, I worked on the school campus to earn a little income. It wasn’t much, but it helped. When I later joined Yale University, I still faced serious financial constraints—almost half of my limited funds went toward buying books and supplies in my first semester. Fortunately, Yale had a bursary system for needy students which offered part time employment. I was able to take on small jobs on campus. Over time, I found multiple employment opportunities and eventually juggled two or three jobs to make ends meet.
In many ways, it was a crucible experience. I had to navigate harsh weather, cultural shock, financial hardship, and emotional isolation—all at once. Being thrown into the deep end at such a formative age forced me to grow quickly, and that experience significantly shaped the person and the leader I am today.
When did you first return to Uganda after leaving, and what was your impression of the country when you came back?
It took me four years before I first returned to Uganda—and it was a major struggle. After four years abroad, the homesickness became unbearable. I found it increasingly difficult to focus; my mind was always on home. Eventually, I went to the Dean of Students to explain my situation. Looking back, I think he was somewhat skeptical, but he said he would make some inquiries and see what could be done.
During our conversation, I mentioned that I had previously attended St. Paul’s School in New Hampshire. He suggested that if I could raise some money, the university might consider helping. Encouraged, I wrote to the headmaster at St. Paul’s, and fortunately, they agreed to contribute $300 toward my travel. When I returned to the Dean with that offer, he agreed to match it with another $300 and added $600 as a loan to my existing student debt.
At that time, about 75% of my university costs were covered by scholarship, and the remaining 25% was financed through student loans—so the $600 was simply added to my outstanding loan balance. Altogether, the $1,200 raised went directly to the university, which arranged my flight back home through a travel agent.
Incidentally, I learned a lot about air travel costs during that time. When I graduated two years later, in 1971, I was able to return to Uganda using a charter flight, which cost only $260 one way—a dramatic drop from the $1,200 I initially paid. That huge shift happened because, around 1969, the advent of the Boeing 747 revolutionized air travel, making it much cheaper and more accessible.
How do you remember Uganda’s independence? I imagine you must have been around Primary Seven at the time. Are there any particular memories or moments from that period that stand out for you?
Oh yes, definitely. It’s one of my strongest memories from my early years. At the time of Uganda’s independence, I was at Budo Junior School, having just completed what was then called Junior One—equivalent to Primary Seven today. I later left King’s College Budo in Senior Two.
Remarkably, our headmaster, an Englishman named Douglas Hare took time to prepare us for this historic moment. He asked us to write essays on what we thought independence meant. We discussed it at length, and I remember how we were filled with enormous expectations. We believed that Africa would suddenly rise, unite as one continent, become great, and compete effectively with Europe. Everything, we thought, was going to be bright and promising. We had no idea of the challenges that would come, but we were incredibly optimistic.
I vividly remember being given time off from school to attend the independence celebrations. My parents arranged for us to go to Kololo Airstrip, and I was there when the Union Jack was lowered and the Uganda flag was raised. It was a truly momentous occasion. Though I was very young, I can still recall it all clearly—the presence of members of the British royal family representing the UK government, the sight of Ugandan leaders like Obote, and the excitement that filled Kampala.
The city was beautifully decorated, and there were bands, some brought from the UK for the occasion, and festivities everywhere. Although we didn’t attend the parties, we watched the celebrations in the streets. There was an overwhelming sense of optimism—that things were going to change dramatically for the better.”
If you were to write about Uganda’s independence today, reflecting on everything you’ve experienced since then, what would you say?
Reflecting on it now, with the benefit of experience, I would say there were a lot of very good intentions at the time of Uganda’s independence. However, I don’t believe our leaders—Obote and others—fully realized the magnitude of the undertaking ahead.
We started off well. They assembled a diverse and largely competent group, with a small Cabinet and a small Parliament, and for a few years, things moved quite effectively. But over time, challenges emerged. It became clear that, despite our optimism, we were not fully prepared—we lacked the necessary personnel, skills, and institutional depth to sustain the momentum.
When I compare Africa at that time to regions like Asia, Latin America, and even parts of the Middle East, we were on fairly equal footing with countries like Korea, India, China, and Singapore. Yet today, the gap is extraordinary. It’s almost unbelievable to see how far they have advanced while much of Africa has lagged behind.
One of the key issues I have observed is the persistence of a ‘victim mentality’ in Africa. We continue to focus heavily on colonialism. While it’s important to remember where we came from, if you’re trying to drive a car forward, you must spend most of your time looking through the windshield—not fixating on the rear-view mirror. You glance at the rear-view mirror occasionally when necessary, but your focus must be ahead. Similarly, as a continent, we must shift from lamenting past injustices to leading our people toward a better future and become fully accountable for that task. Learn from mistakes and continue ahead rather than bale somebody else.
Robin Sharma refers to this transition as the “victim-to-leader leap.” It requires focusing all our energies, imagination, and strategy on moving forward—choosing the best people to work with, identifying our comparative advantages, and pursuing them with discipline.
Look at Singapore and Dubai as examples. Singapore had even fewer natural resources than we did, yet they invested heavily in their transportation and port infrastructure, using their strategic location to build a vibrant economy. Dubai, part of the UAE but with no significant oil reserves, transformed itself by building a major airport, launching Emirates Airlines, and positioning itself as a global logistics and financial hub. They attracted investments by having clear, imaginative, and workable strategies. Money, after all, follows good ideas.
In contrast, Africa has often mistakenly believed that access to finance alone would solve our problems. But without a clear vision and strategy for how to use that finance, much of it has been wasted. The lesson is clear: it is not money that drives transformation—it is ideas, imagination, and disciplined leadership.
Looking back at your career—spanning about 40 years—are there one or two pivotal moments that stand out as having redirected you and shaped the path that brought you to where you are today?
“Yes, I would say I had a very fulfilling career at the IMF. However, about two years before my retirement, I began to reflect deeply: what would it mean to leave the IMF, and what would I do next? That period of introspection turned out to be extremely important.
When I first started working, like many people, I was focused on finding a good job and building a career—I wasn’t necessarily thinking about the broader meaning of my work. After 32 years at the IMF, with my children having completed their university education and financial pressures easing, I had the freedom to think more deeply: What is life really about? What could I do moving forward that would be meaningful? What were my true passions?
Two important developments during that time helped redirect my path. First, in 2008—one year before I retired—I joined Rotary. Through Rotary, I discovered a community dedicated to service above self, and it opened my eyes to the impact of community service.
Secondly, during my career, I had served on a grievance committee at the IMF. A classmate of mine from Yale, who chaired the committee, encouraged me to take a course in arbitration. That training turned out to be pivotal. I learned how arbitration—especially in cases like family disputes—could lead to much better outcomes than adversarial court battles. Finding common ground between parties required a great deal of careful listening, empathy, and understanding.
At the same time, I had a coach at work who helped me hone my decision-making and communication skills, and I had a mentor who guided me with tremendous wisdom. I realized that a common thread across all these experiences was the power of listening—truly listening to understand issues, to build consensus, and to find sustainable solutions.
This growing appreciation for listening and partnership reinforced my commitment to community service. Together with my wife, we had decided we would return to Uganda, and that decision aligned naturally with my evolving passions. I also had a desire to teach again, having taught briefly at Makerere University earlier in my career.
Initially, when we returned, teaching opportunities at Makerere didn’t materialize, and consulting didn’t quite work out either. But eventually, I was offered an opportunity to teach executive courses at Strathmore University, and I was appointed to several boards. I continued my Rotary work as well.
Over time, everything I had been reflecting on—community service, leadership through partnership, the power of listening—began to converge and reinforce each other. I discovered that effective leadership, especially in the boardroom, is rooted not in dominance but in facilitating discussions, enabling collective wisdom to emerge, and nurturing mutual respect.
Through all of this, I found that the virtuous cycle of learning, service, and leadership could create tremendous impact—not just for organizations, but for communities as well. And it has been both humbling and deeply fulfilling to see how those experiences have come together over these years.”
Maybe shifting quickly to your return—having left Uganda, experienced cultural shock abroad, and then coming back permanently—what made you decide to return, especially when many people might have chosen to stay? And what was your experience like settling back into Uganda?
The decision to return to Uganda wasn’t difficult at all. One major reason was that my mother used to write me frequent letters, which kept me deeply anchored to Uganda for many years, right up until her passing.
Additionally, my work at the IMF involved a lot of travel across Africa, and I would often pass through Uganda. Every two years, we also had the benefit of home leave, which allowed me to bring the family back. These regular visits helped my children build strong relationships with their cousins and stay connected to their roots.
An important turning point was when I was appointed IMF Resident Representative in Ghana. We spent two and a half years living there, and it had a profound effect on my children. Living in Ghana helped them reconnect with the African culture and lifestyle in a deep way. By the time we moved from Ghana to Uganda, the transition was almost seamless for them. As a family, we remained firmly attached to Uganda, and so the decision to return permanently was, in many ways, very straightforward.
Settling back in, however, was not easy. One of the biggest challenges was that, although I knew many people professionally, I didn’t have the same kind of deep, personal bonds that classmates or lifelong friends tend to share—those relationships built over decades of shared experiences like schooling, weddings, and raising families. That depth of camaraderie was sometimes missing, and I still feel it to some extent today.
Moreover, the practical realities of life in Uganda were different from the impressions I had during my short visits. When you stay long enough, you encounter everyday challenges—building a house, dealing with suppliers, navigating service delays. Initially, I would become very agitated when things weren’t done on time or when people gave what I perceived as casual excuses, like blaming the rain. Having lived in the U.S., where even a foot of snow doesn’t stop work unless government closure is declared, I found it frustrating.
But over time, I realized I had to adapt. I gradually came to understand the rhythm of life here, and although it wasn’t easy at first, I adjusted. Returning to Uganda was simple in decision, but complex in experience.
In the 1960s, countries like Uganda were almost at the same growth point as China and the Asian Tigers. Some people attribute the divergence to differences in work ethic. Even 20 years ago, I remember debates about whether Kenyans were several times more productive than Ugandans. From your experience working in different countries, have you observed any remarkable differences in work ethic, leadership, or other factors? What stood out most to you?
I think we touched on examples like Dubai and Singapore, which illustrate this issue well.
Take Dubai, for instance. It’s located in the desert. When you fly over it, you almost wonder why people even chose to live there. Singapore, on the other hand, is tropical—similar to Uganda in climate—but it’s a tiny island. Many people don’t realize that Singapore was once part of Malaysia. When the Malaysians expelled the Chinese community, Singapore was left isolated and, at the time, considered virtually uninhabitable. There were high levels of drug abuse, corruption, and general instability. Even the British, who had established Singapore as a major trading post along the route to Asia and the Pacific, eventually withdrew.
Essentially, Singapore was starting from the very bottom. They had nowhere to go but up. But through sheer determination, discipline, and very strategic thinking, they managed to pull themselves out of that situation. Within a few years, Singapore had far outpaced Malaysia, despite Malaysia initially having all the advantages—resources, land, and the capital city, Kuala Lumpur.
Today, the difference is stark. Singapore and Uganda are worlds apart in terms of development. What’s more impressive is Singapore’s discipline even after becoming wealthy: they created a sovereign wealth fund, built massive reserves, and only use the earnings from those reserves—not the reserves themselves. Even today, they limit how much of the fund’s returns they spend, saving the rest for future generations. It’s an extraordinary example of long-term thinking and discipline.
Dubai has followed a somewhat similar path. Despite being part of the UAE, Dubai had very little oil wealth compared to its neighbors. Instead, it leveraged its strategic location, built a major airport, launched Emirates Airlines, and turned itself into a global transport and finance hub. Like Singapore, it attracted investment not by sitting on resources, but by creating visionary, workable strategies.
Another strong example is Botswana. I worked on Botswana during my time at the IMF. It’s a semi-desert country that discovered diamonds shortly after independence. However, unlike many other countries, Botswana managed those resources very wisely. They created the Pula Fund, another sovereign wealth fund. And again, they follow a strict discipline: if the fund earns, say, an 8% return annually on $100 billion, they would only spend around 2% for investments in infrastructure, education, and other sectors, while reinvesting the remaining 6%. They don’t even fund their current operational budget from the fund—only investment projects. That discipline has allowed their wealth to grow steadily over time.
When I look at Uganda, many people often say, ‘We are gifted by nature’—and it’s true. We have fertile soil, two rainy seasons, abundant lakes, and rivers. But I believe that being naturally gifted can sometimes work against us. When resources are readily available year-round, there’s less incentive to struggle, innovate, or plan long-term.
Contrast that with countries like Jordan and Israel, where the land is desert, and yet they manage to grow tomatoes, dates, and a variety of crops—even without rich soil. They had no choice but to innovate and discipline themselves to survive.
In essence, hardship often breeds innovation and resilience. When the environment is tough, you either find solutions or you perish. It’s the same reason I think Kenyans tend to have a stronger work ethic: their natural environment isn’t as forgiving, so they hustle harder. They work because they have no choice but to work.
Of course, leadership also plays a very significant role in national development. But by and large, across much of Africa, we still suffer from looking backward instead of forward. We focus too much on the injustices of the past and too little on how to build the future. That remains a major challenge.”
Let’s now turn to your book, Building Legacy, Not Inheritance—it’s a very intriguing title. Could you share some insights into why you chose that title, and what ultimately inspired you to write the book?
Maybe let me first go back to what inspired me to choose the title Building Legacy, Not Inheritance.
It all started during that period of deep introspection as I was approaching retirement from the IMF. Reflecting on my next chapter allowed me to engage more intentionally with community work—whether through Rotary, serving on boards, or teaching. What I discovered through these experiences was the profound impact of partnering with others to improve welfare and solve problems. Whether it was in Rotary, on a board, or in a classroom, the act of listening carefully to understand people’s needs and working together toward solutions gave my life renewed meaning.
As I became more involved in community work, I realized that the rewards were immediate and deeply personal. People would come up to me—students, colleagues, families—and thank me for a lecture, for helping them solve a problem, or for simply making a difference in their lives. I could see the tangible results of contributing to society, and it generated immense goodwill. It became very clear that the imprint you leave on people’s lives matters far more than material achievements.
From there, I decided to write about this journey. Working backward, I reflected on how my career at the IMF had shaped me, how my academic training had prepared me, and ultimately, how my family heritage had laid the foundation. I realized that service had been embedded in my roots. My father, who eventually became an ordained priest, and my grandfather, a priest also, before him, were deeply committed to helping others. They often gave away their wealth to assist people, a practice we, as children, found puzzling at the time. But looking back, I understood—they were teaching us the value of community service.
Many of my family members were educators too, helping people help themselves. These early seeds of service resonated deeply with me as I grew older. Over time, everything fused together. I came to realize that life is finite—we are mortal beings—and the real question is: what lasting value can we leave behind?
In my professional career, particularly at the IMF, I worked at a national and international level. But when I returned to Uganda, my work became much more granular. I interacted directly with people—customers, employees, community members—and received immediate, unfiltered feedback. Sometimes it was positive; other times, it was critical. But whether positive or negative, the feedback helped me adjust, improve, and serve better.
This constant interaction made it very clear: what truly matters is not the degrees, titles, wealth, or accolades we accumulate—those are all left behind when we depart. What endures is the impact we leave on people’s minds and lives.
That realization shaped the title and core message of the book. Inheritance is about material things—wealth, titles, possessions—which do not outlive us. Legacy, on the other hand, is the lasting impact we leave in people’s hearts and minds. It is the influence that continues to inspire action long after we are gone.
Take the example of Pope Francis. Even after his time passes, the imprint he has left—his voice for the poor and marginalized—will live on and continue to inspire countless people worldwide. That is the essence of legacy: work that lives beyond our own lifetime.
That, ultimately, is what I hope to convey in Building Legacy, Not Inheritance.”
Having been a leader for so long and served extensively in boardrooms, how does the principle of building legacy rather than inheritance apply to leaders today, especially in the corporate world? What vivid lessons or examples can you share about how leaders can build lasting legacies—not just focus on growing profits or achieving short-term goals? And why is it so important for leaders to think beyond material success or visibility?
That’s a very good question. We’ve spoken about personal legacy—like that of Pope Francis—but I believe that organizations, institutions, and even entire countries can also build enduring legacies. We already discussed examples like Botswana, Singapore, and Dubai, which have each, through discipline, vision, and strategic action, built legacies that far outlast individual leaders. Today, even China’s transformation is a testimony to the power of building lasting institutions and cultures.
In the boardroom setting, legacy begins with governance and culture. Good governance means creating a structure where directors work closely with senior management in an atmosphere of trust. It’s critical to foster an environment where issues can be discussed openly, without fear of retribution. This enables directors to contribute fully, pooling together diverse experiences and perspectives—what I call “board wisdom.”
But it doesn’t end at the board level. When the board works effectively with management, the values, strategies, and decisions cascade down to the staff, and in turn, the staff engage with clients. Feedback flows both ways—clients back to staff, staff back to management, and management back to the board—making the entire institution a dynamic listening post. Organizations that build this kind of culture become more responsive, resilient, and impactful in serving their stakeholders.
Building legacy in leadership means moving beyond personal ego. Take companies like Apple. Steve Jobs initially struggled with leadership, and the board even ousted him. But during his time away, he matured, rethought his approach, and returned to build Apple into a global brand—leaving a profound legacy based on customer loyalty and innovation. The same pattern is visible in other companies like Microsoft: when leaders focus on building systems, cultures, and innovation pipelines rather than themselves, the organizations thrive long after the founders step aside.
From my own boardroom experience, I learned some key lessons about leadership and legacy: When I first became a board chairman, I used to walk into meetings with preconceived solutions in mind, expecting the board to align with my thinking. However, I quickly realized that if I sat back and listened carefully to the discussion, I often found that my own views needed to evolve. Fellow directors, drawing from their diverse backgrounds, would introduce perspectives I hadn’t considered. Many times, after everyone spoke, it became clear that no single voice—including mine—held all the answers.
As a chairman, your real role is not to dominate the discussion or push your own solutions. Instead, you should:
- Engage with management before meetings to ensure papers are clear and thorough.
- Support management and staff quietly, rather than ambushing them during board meetings.
- Encourage directors to express views openly and respectfully.
- Create space for discussions to evolve and mature, even suggesting delaying decisions when needed to allow committees or experts to provide deeper analysis.
- Be humble enough to admit when you don’t know the answers—and proactive enough to seek external expertise when necessary.
By taking this approach, directors become more confident in sharing their views, trust is strengthened, and boardroom discussions become richer and more productive. Directors will even reach out between meetings to offer advice or feedback, knowing their views are valued and respected.
Ultimately, leadership for legacy requires humility, deep listening, and a commitment to collective wisdom. The goal is not to showcase individual brilliance but to help the board—and by extension, the organization—make the best possible decisions. In doing so, leaders leave behind cultures, institutions, and practices that continue to grow, thrive, and serve long after their tenure ends.
That is how legacies are built—not just by growing profits, but by shaping cultures, empowering people, and creating institutions that endure.
Looking at your diverse career, and from listening to you so far, some key leadership qualities clearly stand out: having a strong vision, a strategy to support it, the discipline to execute, and the ability to listen to diverse audiences and integrate different views into decision-making. Are there other leadership lessons you’ve learned—either captured in your book or perhaps lessons that you would include in a future book—that you think are especially important for today’s leaders? Particularly, what lessons helped you navigate through a complex, multicultural institution like the IMF, and later on in working with different countries and communities, without being shaken off course?
“I would say there are three key leadership lessons that I believe are critical—and which I discuss in my book. These lessons have been particularly important to me throughout my career.
- Self-Mastery and Emotional Intelligence: Plato once said, “The best victory is self-conquest.” If you can conquer yourself, then everything else opens up to you. We are all born with an ego—a sense of individuality—and an evolutionary history that equips us with instinctive reactions. These instincts, while useful for survival, are not always helpful in social or leadership contexts. We have a tendency to be competitive, to seek praise, to react impulsively—often without realizing it.
True leadership requires self-awareness: understanding your instincts, your emotional triggers, and learning to regulate them. If you’re prone to anger, quick judgments, or needing to dominate conversations, you must master these tendencies. Mastery over your emotions is crucial—not only for your own effectiveness but also for understanding and managing others.
Once you achieve self-mastery, you naturally develop emotional intelligence. Empathy—the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes—becomes central. It allows you to connect with others, manage relationships better, and lead more humanely. Leadership begins with conquering yourself before attempting to lead others.
- Embracing a Growth Mindset: The second key lesson is maintaining a growth mindset—the belief that you can always learn, unlearn, and relearn. This mindset is crucial because leadership constantly presents new problems for which you may not have ready solutions. If you believe you can always learn, you remain humble and open-minded. You seek advice, read widely, ask questions, consult experts, and surround yourself with people you can learn from.
As a leader, you must be willing to admit you don’t have all the answers. Whether you’re assembling a board of directors, an executive committee, or a community initiative, you need to work with trusted teams and tap into collective wisdom. Growth-minded leaders invest in continuous learning—reading, attending lectures, expanding their education—because they know that staying stagnant is not an option.
- Perspective: Questioning Assumptions and Practicing Deep Introspection: The third lesson is about perspective: learning to question your assumptions. We often make snap judgments about people or situations based on ingrained beliefs. But effective leadership requires the humility to reassess those assumptions. Sometimes, taking the time to engage with someone you initially dismissed can reveal that your first impressions were wrong.
Living and working in different countries like Ghana and the United States taught me that people approach problems in very different ways. Exposure to other cultures forces you to rethink whether your way is always the best way. Constantly questioning your assumptions keeps you open to better solutions and helps you evolve as a leader.
Introspection plays a critical role here as well. Finding quiet time for deep reflection allows you to sift through your thoughts, challenge your biases, and grow. I practiced this deeply during my retirement transition from the IMF and realized how many previously held assumptions needed reexamination.
Even small everyday encounters can teach you this. For example, when a worker is late, instead of immediately blaming or reprimanding them, asking, “How are you today?” might reveal they are facing a personal crisis. That simple shift in approach—taking time to understand before judging—changes everything. It humanizes leadership.
In summary, effective leadership is not just about vision, strategy, and execution. It’s about mastering yourself, maintaining a commitment to lifelong learning, and cultivating a deep understanding of others by questioning assumptions and practicing empathy. These principles have been fundamental to my journey—and they are timeless lessons for any leader navigating today’s complex world.”
Since returning to Uganda and engaging in teaching executives, serving on boards, and contributing to initiatives like the CEO Summit, you now have over 15 years of close involvement in leadership and governance here. Looking back, have you observed any notable trends in corporate governance in Uganda’s boardrooms—whether positive or negative? In your view, are we generally moving in the right direction, regressing, or is it a mix of both? What are some of the ‘good,’ the ‘bad,’ and the ‘ugly’ trends you’ve seen emerging in boardroom governance over these years?
We are at a very significant inflection point in history—a moment where the world faces unprecedented challenges and disruptions. While some of these challenges have existed before in different forms, the scale and complexity today are quite different.
First, climate change is a major global issue.
Second, we are witnessing a massive shift in global power structures, especially with the emergence of China and Asia as major economic and political forces. This has fundamentally altered how global issues are negotiated and addressed.
Third, technological advancements, particularly the rise of social media and big data, have reshaped almost every facet of our lives.
On the positive side, technology has made access to information almost instantaneous. Today, with the push of a button, you can conduct research, gather data on customers or staff, and use those insights to build better business strategies or deliver more efficient public services. For instance, online government services have dramatically saved citizens time, effort, and money.
However, the very same technology has also opened the door to manipulation and misinformation. Social media, while a powerful tool for communication, is now being used by malicious actors—including some world leaders—to spread falsehoods, deepen divisions, and disrupt societies. Managing this dark side of technology has become one of the major governance challenges of our time.
Another critical trend is the widening gap in income distribution.
Technology has enabled a few individuals to amass incredible wealth in relatively short periods. This growing economic inequality has also fueled the dangerous phenomenon of excessive money flowing into politics, where wealthy elites increasingly influence policy decisions to their advantage. We now face the risk of oligarchic tendencies, where a few powerful individuals could wield disproportionate control over society.
In the corporate world, monopolies and corporate concentration have reached alarming levels. For example, the U.S. is currently pursuing cases to potentially break up companies like Google. The trend towards market concentration, if unchecked, could undermine competition, innovation, and democratic processes.
All of these factors—climate change, shifting power dynamics, technological disruption, growing inequality, and corporate concentration—are converging at once. We are navigating uncharted waters.
One major concern is that traditional trend-based analysis may no longer be sufficient. Much of the data we collect tells us about the past, but we are less certain whether it reliably indicates where we are headed. In an era of inflection points, predictive models become fragile, and the future more uncertain.
There are, of course, tremendous positives—access to knowledge, the potential for efficiency, innovation, and global connectivity.
But the negatives—misinformation, inequality, hacking, fraud—are equally profound. In business, for instance, cybersecurity has become a major nightmare. Today, a single cyberattack could result in the loss of billions almost overnight, and it keeps many corporate leaders awake at night.
In sum, we are living through a period of both extraordinary opportunity and extraordinary risk. Navigating this future will require resilience, adaptability, and a fundamentally new way of thinking about leadership and governance.”
While technology has made it easier for people to move billions with the click of a button—and in some cases commit major fraud—we also see technology being used for incredible innovation and positive change. From your perspective, do you think there is now more decadence and a decline in integrity? Or has human nature remained the same, and technology has simply amplified the scale and visibility of both good and bad actions? In other words, could it be that there are actually fewer ‘thieves’ or criminals today, but technology enables them to commit fewer crimes with much bigger consequences?
I believe the temptations have grown tremendously. We are facing a collision of multiple forces, largely driven by the unprecedented accessibility of information.
When we were growing up, the environment was very different. We had very limited exposure to media. Television came to Uganda around 1962, and even then, it would only broadcast for two or three hours a day. There was just one radio station that came on at 3 PM and signed off at 10 PM.
Today, by contrast, information is available 24 hours a day. With the flip of a phone, anyone can access videos, social media, entertainment, and news from anywhere in the world. Young people—particularly the digital natives—have grown up with instant access to everything. They can watch lifestyles from Hollywood or the wealthiest parts of the world, and naturally, they begin to wonder, “Why can’t I have that too—right now?”
This expectation of instant gratification has created enormous pressure. In our generation—the baby boomers—building a career was a long process. I spent 32 years at the IMF. Today, if someone stays at a job for more than four years, people wonder what’s wrong with them. There’s an expectation for rapid movement, rapid success.
Technology has indeed created opportunities to reduce corruption—for instance, direct payments of school fees, taxes, and utility bills through mobile money or digital platforms have cut out many middlemen and leakages. However, it has also introduced new vulnerabilities: hacking, cyber fraud, and large-scale manipulation.
So, while technology has solved old problems, it has also created new and often more complex ones.
It’s difficult to predict whether, in the long run, technology will ultimately solve more problems than it creates. As I said earlier, we are at an inflection point. History has brought us to this moment, but it’s not entirely clear where we are headed next.
Another critical point that worries me is the decline in global cooperation.
I worked at the IMF, which was one of several multilateral institutions created after the devastation of the First and Second World Wars. After seeing unprecedented destruction and loss of life, world leaders said, “Never again.” They committed to resolving conflicts through collaboration rather than confrontation. Institutions like the IMF, World Bank, and later the European Union embodied this spirit of multilateralism. Defense budgets were reduced. Economic cooperation flourished. And as a result, the world experienced almost 70 to 80 years of unparalleled economic growth and stability.
Unfortunately, today, that collaborative spirit is weakening. Nationalism and xenophobia are on the rise.
Countries are tightening immigration laws, pulling back from international commitments, and shifting toward isolationism. Military budgets are once again growing. Germany has recently changed its laws to allow greater military buildup. Japan and China are rearming. France and others may soon follow.
The danger here is that we are entering an era where many countries are sitting on massive arsenals of advanced weaponry, and all it could take is a single trigger to cause unimaginable devastation.
That is the frightening part of where we are.
So, while technology offers great opportunities, and while past global collaboration brought prosperity, the risks we face now—from cybercrime to armed conflict—are very real and very serious. We must tread carefully.
You’ve spoken about discipline, about building legacy, and about how legacy is really the result of small steps taken consistently over time. Building on that, what advice would you give to young executives today—those in their 30s and 40s—who are just stepping into leadership roles? Many of them are still juggling things like building their first home, paying off mortgages and loans, or feeling the pressure to keep up with their peers on platforms like TikTok. If you could meet your younger self, 30 or 40 years ago, and offer advice on how to deliberately build a meaningful legacy from an early stage, what would you tell yourself? What are the key principles or mindsets you believe young leaders today must prioritize to lay a strong foundation for the future?
That’s a very important and rich question, and there’s a lot we can unpack from it.
First of all, it’s worth noting that today’s younger generation—particularly millennials and Gen Z—are much more focused on impact.
When we were growing up, the notion of ‘impact’ wasn’t as central to how we thought. But today’s younger leaders can clearly see how, within a relatively short time, individuals like Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, and others have made a massive difference. So, their focus on impact is both understandable and encouraging.
However, for those young executives in their 30s and 40s who are beginning their leadership journeys, my advice would be: cultivate a long-term vision.
Think deeply about the value you want to contribute, not just the individual success you want to achieve. Having a purpose beyond personal gain will serve as a powerful guide through the inevitable ups and downs of leadership and life and deliver a far durable and broader impact on the community.
In doing so, it’s critical to focus on:
- Self-mastery — learning to control urges for instant gratification, wealth, or status at the expense of others.
- Emotional intelligence — developing empathy, understanding others’ needs, and genuinely connecting with the people you work with and serve.
- Purposeful daily living — making sure your day-to-day decisions and actions align with your greater purpose.
However, it’s important to caution about one thing: legacy is not a destination.
Legacy isn’t something you can set out to deliver in a linear, predictable way. Ultimately, it is not you but other people—your community, your colleagues, your family—who will determine what your legacy is.
Thus, while you should aim for meaningful impact, avoid getting trapped in the mindset of trying to “manufacture” legacy by actions which you think will reward you or improve your image. Instead, live with purpose and integrity daily, serve those who need help, and legacy will naturally emerge as the cumulative result of your small, consistent selfless actions.
The Chinese saying reminds us: “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
Similarly, big dreams are only achieved through many small, tactical steps. That idea resonated deeply with me when I read Steven Scott’s “Small Steps to Impossible Dreams”—and I believe it’s critical for any young leader to understand. Big aspirations are important, but success comes from how you conduct yourself in the present moment and the decisions and actions you take in that moment toward your vision.
Every interaction matters. Whether you are dealing with your family, a worker, a boda boda rider, or a vendor in the market; show respect and empathy. Don’t drive a ruthless bargain at the market simply because you can—the vendor is supporting their family too. Sometimes paying a fair price—or even more—builds trust, dignity, and goodwill. These small human gestures accumulate into a powerful personal brand of trust, respect, and authenticity and build more meaningful and durable relationships
If you are a CEO or a member of an executive committee, remember: this attitude of empathy and respect is not just for the boardroom—it must extend into your everyday life.
Carry it home, to the street, to your interactions with everyone you meet. Walk the talk.
Look at Pope Francis: he talked about standing with the poor, but beyond words, he physically walked with them, washed their feet, and defended their dignity. His actions aligned completely with his message.
That is what builds true legacy: living your values consistently and humbly across all settings, big and small.
So, to young leaders today—and to my younger self if I could go back—I would say:
Have a big vision, yes. But focus daily on small, consistent actions aligned with empathy, humility, learning, and purpose. That is how real legacy is built.”
How do you hope your book will shape conversations, especially around the areas you’re passionate about—like leadership, legacy, service, and community—that you’ve touched on during this interview?
It’s not so much about my personal experiences for their own sake, but rather about what I learned from them—what I gleaned from engaging with these issues on a day-to-day basis throughout my leadership journey.
I believe the issues I raise are highly relevant, and my hope is that readers will be able to pick up a few lessons here and there—small insights that they can incorporate into their own work or weave into how they plan and live their lives.
More importantly, I hope the book prompts reflection on deeper questions: What is this journey of life really about? What are we here for? What lasting impact will we leave behind when we are gone?
Often, unfortunately, true appreciation only comes after someone has passed away. It is then that people reflect and realize how large a presence someone had, and the full weight of their contributions comes into focus.
In the book, I share a few such cases from my own leadership journey—instances where certain individuals profoundly impacted my life.
One was a mentor who believed in me, championed me, and insisted I be given leadership roles. His belief inspired me beyond what I thought possible. I worked with a deep desire not to disappoint him—and as a result, I ended up exceeding even my own expectations.
Another powerful example is my brief but impactful time working with the late James Mulwana here in Uganda. Although I served on a board at Standard Chartered Bank with him for only about a year and a half, his vision, wisdom, and personal generosity left an indelible mark on me. Despite my international exposure, the way he asked simple yet profound questions, and how he genuinely took an interest in my growth, showed a remarkable quality of leadership.
At the time, I felt like I was truly special to him—as though I were one of his own children. After he passed away, listening to so many other people share similar testimonies, I realized he had this extraordinary gift: the ability to make every individual feel uniquely valued and supported.
I remember telling his wife, “Your husband had so many children,” and she laughed—because she understood exactly what I meant.
Through his example, I learned that true leadership is not just about vision or achievement. It’s about connecting deeply with people, giving generously of yourself, helping others flourish, and making people feel seen, respected, and encouraged.
And that is the kind of legacy that continues long after we are gone. It inspires others to carry forward your vision, values, and actions
For those who would like to access or purchase the book after the launch, where will it be available, and how can they go about getting a copy?
The book is now available on Amazon, where readers can purchase a hard copy or download the Kindle version for digital reading.
We are also in the final stages of arranging for the book to be available locally at Aristoc Bookshop. We are working closely with them to complete the necessary procedures. It’s taken a bit of time because Aristoc requires a hard copy submission for their internal review before approving the book for sale and setting the price. We’ve now cleared most of those steps, and in a few more days, it should be available on their shelves.
In addition, we are reaching out to a number of other bookstores to ensure the book is readily accessible to readers across different locations.
Throughout this interview, you’ve spoken quite a bit about the importance of mentors and coaches in your leadership journey. For someone listening or reading who may be wondering: what exactly is the difference between a mentor and a coach? And practically speaking, how does one go about finding a good mentor or coach?
I think it’s important to first understand the difference between a mentor and a coach, because they serve different but complementary roles in a person’s growth.
A mentor is usually someone within your particular field—someone who has significant experience and can guide you in learning the ropes of your profession or line of work
A mentor shares practical advice drawn from years of personal experience, often helping you link concepts and ideas that you might not yet see clearly because of where you are in your relatively early career journey.
For example, a mentor might advise you to maintain regular communication with your immediate supervisor when handling assignments—to seek clarification early and frequently—so you avoid costly misunderstandings later. A mentor helps you navigate your career path, offering direct advice and motivating you to stretch beyond your perceived limits.
A coach, on the other hand, is focused more on the process of decision-making rather than the specific field you are in.
A coach does not need to be from your profession—they could be from psychology, leadership training, or other disciplines—but they are trained to help you think through your own challenges.
A good coach will not give you solutions; rather, they will ask you the right questions, using a Socratic method, to help you discover your own options, answers and solutions to problems or challenges. This is powerful because when you arrive at your own solution, you are more committed to it and more likely to execute it effectively. Over time, you develop better habits to guide you through your own decision making process.
Raising children offers a good analogy:
Rather than dictating to your child what career to pursue—“I was a lawyer, so you must be a lawyer”—it is far better to ask guiding questions like, “What are your interests?” or “What would you like to explore?” Then you support them in finding their own path, perhaps connecting them with professionals in their area of interest or encouraging them to take a course.
Helping people make their own decisions, rather than imposing yours, is the essence of good coaching.
In terms of finding a mentor or a coach:
- Mentors are often easier to find within your organization or professional network. Approach experienced individuals whose careers you admire, and ask if they would be willing to mentor you. Sometimes, these relationships evolve naturally through professional interaction.
- Coaches are more formal. Ideally, you should seek a professionally trained coach. You can find them through coaching associations, leadership programs, or referrals from colleagues.
Today, many organizations even offer internal coaching services. For example, at the CEO Summit, our CEO Apprenticeship Program (CAP) provides elements of structured coaching to upcoming executives.
Additionally, sponsors play an important but slightly different role.
Sponsors are people who advocate for you—especially in organizational settings where decisions about promotions or opportunities are being made. A good mentor might naturally evolve into a sponsor, but coaches typically do not because they are more externally positioned.
In summary:
- Mentors guide based on their experience in your field.
- Coaches facilitate your thinking and decision-making without providing direct solutions.
- Sponsors advocate for you when opportunities arise.
Each of these relationships can be incredibly valuable at different stages of a leadership journey.”
As we begin to wrap up, could you share if there’s any particular book that truly changed your life?
Yes, there’s one book that really had a profound impact on me: Small Steps to Impossible Dreams by Steven Scott.
It ties closely to what we’ve been discussing—about having a bold vision but recognizing that the real challenge lies in how you attain it, knowing full well that it can take years.
The biggest lesson the book taught me was the importance of breaking big dreams down into manageable, concrete steps.
When you break a big vision into small, actionable steps, it becomes less overwhelming and much more achievable.
The book also emphasized the powerful act of writing things down.
You might have an idea in your head, but once you put it on paper, you’re forced to confront it, clarify it, and refine it. The very act of writing brings structure to vague thoughts and pushes you to sharpen your intentions.
For example, if I had a goal—say, becoming a Division Chief—I would write it down clearly. Then I would list ten specific steps I could take to get there.
would then researchthe subject:
- What does a Division Chief actually do?
- What qualifications are required?
- What skills am I missing?
- How can I build those skills?
By identifying clear, specific actions, it became possible to track progress. I even developed a habit of carrying a small piece of paper in my wallet, listing my top ten goals at any given time.
Every so often, I would pull it out, not necessarily to measure how far I’d come, but to remind myself: This is what drives you. This is what you’re working toward on a daily basis
The approach was also helpful to visualize the stages of implementing the vision from the beginning to the end . This is such a powerful enabling tool to overcome the fog or sense of being overwhelmed which deters us from being our best.
Another tool that helped was making productive use of time. I had long commutes, so I started buying and listening to educational tapes while driving—turning traffic time into learning time.
It became a habit, reinforcing my goal to always be growing and preparing for the next step.
Beyond mechanics, Small Steps to Impossible Dreams fundamentally shifted my mindset:
It taught me that you can pursue bold, even audacious dreams—but you have to respect the process.
You can dream of a destination, but success comes from daily consistency, taking one step at a time in the right direction.
Visualization also became a key part of my practice.
I would constantly picture myself achieving my goals—whether it was graduating, receiving a promotion, or reaching a major milestone.
This visualization made the end goal feel more real and tangible. It fueled my passion, strengthened my momentum, and helped me persist even on tough days when nothing seemed to be moving.
At that point in my life, I was starting to feel overwhelmed by everything I wanted to achieve. Some days, I felt frozen—unsure where to start.
Mapping out my goals and steps gave me clarity. It made it easier to pursue multiple goals steadly
Even if three dreams out of say five were stalled, I could still make progress on the other two, and that kept my hope alive.
Ultimately, the book helped me believe that so-called ‘impossible dreams’ are possible—if you are willing to take small, deliberate steps every day toward them.
Looking back over your journey, what is one decision you are most proud of—one decision that you feel truly shaped your life or leadership path?”
I think the decision I am most proud of was my decision to come back to Uganda.
When I returned, I was still energetic and capable of doing a lot, and that allowed me to settle in, contribute meaningfully, and continue my leadership journey from here.
Coming back opened up many opportunities that I would never have had if I had stayed abroad. I was able to transition from finishing one career into a new chapter where I wasn’t focused on just one area, but could engage across different sectors—and it’s been a fantastic experience.
One example I didn’t mention earlier is how, about two and a half years ago, after retiring from the boards of UBOS and Standard Chartered Bank, I received an offer to join the board of a health start-up called MobiKlinic.
MobiKlinic focuses on improving healthcare delivery in rural areas where there are very few doctors, nurses, midwives,or ambulances. Most medical support in these communities is provided by community health workers, many of whom are volunteers.
The founder of MobiKlinic, originally from Buikwe, had the idea to create a digital app to support these frontline workers. The app connects community health workers with nurses, midwives, doctors, clinics, and ambulances, allowing them to coordinate medical care more effectively. It also digitizes basic patient medical records, making it easier to share information across hospitals and health facilities.
Additionally, the platform provides training for community health workers in essential skills like first aid, taking vital signs, and recording medical information—transforming them into much more effective first responders.
As a result, MobiKlinic has gained significant attention and funding support from organizations like Norvatis, USAID and the World Health Organization, and it has won several awards for its innovative approach.
For me, joining MobiKlinic was eye-opening. It allowed me to branch into an entirely new field—healthcare—and to see firsthand how digital applications that we once used in banking (like digital client onboarding and service delivery apps) could be successfully applied in another critical sector like healthcare.
This experience has been tremendously rewarding.
It reinforced my belief that the principles of leadership, innovation, and community service are universal—and that with the right application, you can make a lasting difference in any sector.”
In today’s fast-paced and often overwhelming world, how do you personally stay sane, stay focused, and manage stress and distractions? Are there any key practices, habits, or principles you follow that help you maintain balance and keep moving forward with clarity?
Yes, for me, exercise plays a very central role in staying sane and focused. I walk a lot, and I also use an elliptical machine about three to four times a week. I try to alternate that with doing yoga as well. Exercise is extremely important to me. It’s not just about staying physically healthy—it’s also a powerful way to relieve stress, clear my mind, and relax.
I’ve been very athletic all my life, so staying active comes naturally. If I ever go two or three days without exercising, I immediately know something is off—it’s one of the first signs I pick up that I need to reset.
So regular physical activity has been, and continues to be, one of the key practices that keeps me balanced and grounded in this fast-paced world.”
Speaking of mentors, was there a particular mentor who really stood out for you—someone who changed everything or made a major difference in the direction of your life or leadership journey?
“I’ve mentioned two mentors already who were particularly influential in my life.
The first was my direct supervisor during my last years at the IMF—Bill Alexander. He reached out to me and entrusted me with assignments that reignited my motivation in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
What I learned from that experience is how powerful it is when someone truly believes in you. When you know someone trusts and believes in your abilities, it acts as a tremendous incentive—you become deeply motivated to give your very best. That trust stays with you; it creates a loyalty and a drive that are hard to replicate.
Bill’s mentorship wasn’t just impactful because of the opportunities he gave me—it also coincided with a time when I was serving on the IMF’s Grievance Committee and working closely with a professional coach. Through mentoring, coaching, and arbitration work, I came to recognize a common thread: the power of deep listening skills. This realization was a major “aha” moment for me. It transformed my leadership approach and significantly elevated my performance.
Before I retired, I even pursued formal training in arbitration—and I came close to taking a course in coaching as well, though unfortunately, time ran out before I could complete it. Bill Alexander, sadly, passed away about a year ago, but his impact on my career and personal growth remains profound.
The second major influence on my life was James Mulwana here in Uganda. Coming back home after retirement, I was navigating the fog of transition—uncertain about how things worked locally and what direction to take. Mulwana, despite coming from a completely different background and having different interests, took me under his wing.
Through simple but insightful questions, through his example and quiet guidance, he helped me start learning the ropes of leadership and business in Uganda. What struck me most about him was his emotional intelligence. He had an extraordinary gift for understanding people and inspiring them without being overbearing. He had a way of making you feel truly special—as if you were his own son—and yet, after his passing, I discovered that so many others felt the same way.
That speaks volumes about who he was: a leader who genuinely wanted and helped everyone around him to succeed.
Both Bill Alexander and James Mulwana left lasting legacies in my life. They taught me the incredible power of trust, empathy, and belief in others—and they helped shape not only my leadership journey but also my approach to mentoring and helping others succeed.”
If you were to complete the sentence ‘Leadership is…’ — what would you say, in just one sentence?
For me, leadership is about guiding and influencing others—whether as a manager, an influencer, or a thought leader—but most importantly, it is about serving the community selflessly.
True leadership means using your skills not just to lead for personal gain, but to serve others and uplift society.
Of course, not all leadership is positive; there are people who lead but steer others in the wrong direction, and that, to me, is not true leadership.
A real example of true leadership is Pope Francis.
He wasn’t just a leader for Catholics—he became a leader for humanity because of his deep compassion for the poor and the marginalized.
When he chose the name ‘Francis,’ after Saint Francis of Assisi, he committed himself to being the voice of the voiceless, and he succeeded in carrying out that mission with humility and conviction.
So, to me, leadership is not just about holding a position—it’s about using your influence to serve others and to make a meaningful, lasting difference in their lives.”
Just for clarification—when we talk about building a legacy, how does one avoid confusing it with simply being liked? Sometimes people might think legacy is about making everyone happy—throwing parties, being popular—when in fact, you could be failing at leadership but masking it with social niceties. How do you distinguish true legacy-building from simply seeking to be liked? And related to that, especially in leadership roles like in the boardroom, there are moments when you have to give hard feedback. How do you deliver tough truths in a way that preserves relationships, maintains team cohesion, and still keeps the group moving forward?
On Leadership vs. Being Liked:
“Leadership is not about being liked. It’s about walking with others, influencing them in a constructive and purposeful way.
Throwing parties or indulging in social activities to win affection may bring temporary happiness, but that is not real leadership, nor does it leave a lasting impact.
True leadership is purposeful. It is about using your daily decisions and actions to slowly, consistently, and intentionally build something meaningful—something that cumulatively creates a positive, lasting impression in people’s lives and minds.
Sometimes leadership means taking tough actions. For example, I recall an incident with my father—he once slapped me when I threw cement into my brother’s eyes while playing. At the time, it was painful, but looking back, I realised he could have saved my brother’s sight. That tough action came from care and responsibility.
Similarly, one of my mentors at the IMF had a very deliberate style.
If you brought him a problem, he wouldn’t rush to decide.
He would quietly do his own background checks to verify the facts and see how your request fit into the bigger picture.
At the time, it used to irritate me as it seemed he did not trust me, but on hindsight, I saw the wisdom in it: true leadership requires thoroughness, fairness, and patience—not blind trust or instant gratification.
The Dean of Students at Yale did the same with me. Initially, I felt mistrusted, but later I understood it was due diligence—not disrespect. One the Dean gained trust in me he opened doors for me to eventually return to Uganda after a four absence and painful homesickness
Ultimately, leadership is not about making people happy in the moment.
It’s about making fair, thoughtful decisions—even hard ones—that serve people’s true interests.
And while people might not always appreciate tough decisions immediately, with time and perspective, they often come to respect them even more.”
On Giving Hard Feedback Without Damaging Relationships:
“Giving hard feedback—especially in a boardroom or leadership setting—is never easy, but there are ways to do it constructively.
One effective approach is structured feedback, such as using anonymous evaluation questionnaires.
These allow individuals to receive collective feedback in a synthesized, non-confrontational way, helping them see patterns without feeling personally attacked.
Another method is through indirect conversations: You ask the individual reflective questions like, ‘What did you think about that session? Were you happy with the outcome? Were there any surprises?’
This often opens the door for a deeper, self-initiated discussion about areas for improvement.
Where possible, you try to leave them with positive options, such as suggesting they might consider additional training, coaching, or mentorship—empowering them to take ownership of their growth.
Sometimes, external facilitators can also be helpful. By bringing in someone from outside to address sensitive topics broadly, individuals can absorb lessons without feeling singled out.
I remember once dealing with a very tough director—very hardened in his ways. After a facilitated session, I spoke to him directly but respectfully, framing feedback in the broader context of the discussion.
He didn’t openly accept all of it, but he clearly absorbed some key points. It’s not always perfect, but the goal is to plant seeds of reflection without alienating people.
Ultimately, every situation is different, but the principles remain:
- Be tactful and indirect when necessary.
- Focus on growth, not blame.
- Provide pathways for self-improvement.
- Preserve respect and relationships while still conveying the truth.”