May the soul of the late President Milton Obote... a long-time

The words of Yoweri Museveni—“May the soul of the late President Milton Obote, a long-time member of this parliament, rest in peace”—carry the weight of history, sorrow, and reconciliation. Spoken by one leader about another, they remind us that even those who once stood as rivals, or whose legacies stirred controversy, are ultimately joined in the common fate of all mankind: death. And in that solemn moment, the living are called not to prolong division but to speak with respect, recognizing the humanity and service of the departed.

The origin of this statement lies in Uganda’s turbulent history. Milton Obote, twice President of Uganda, was a towering yet divisive figure. He helped lead the country to independence but was also associated with years of political unrest, coups, and contested policies. Museveni, his successor and once his adversary, could easily have dismissed Obote’s memory with bitterness. Yet in offering this prayer for his soul, Museveni chose the ancient path of acknowledging the dignity of a fallen leader, no matter the conflicts of the past. This act, small though it may seem, carries deep symbolic weight: it is the offering of honor in place of hatred, a gesture of peace across the chasm of history.

The ancients too understood this truth. When Alexander the Great conquered Persia and saw the body of his rival King Darius, he did not mock or desecrate it. Instead, he ordered that Darius be buried with royal honors, for he knew that respect for the dead ennobles both the departed and the one who honors them. In the same way, Museveni’s words reflect the wisdom that leaders, though they may contend in life, share a brotherhood in death, and that peace can be spoken even where enmity once reigned.

These words also reveal a deeper principle: that power is fleeting. Obote once commanded armies and nations, yet in death, he returned to the dust like all men. Museveni’s blessing acknowledges this eternal truth—that the legacy of rulers is not preserved in their conquests alone, but in the way they are remembered. By offering this simple phrase of rest and peace, Museveni invites his people to reflect not on vengeance, but on the fragile humanity of all leaders.

The lesson for us is clear: we must learn to honor the humanity of others, even when we disagree with their actions. Too often, history is poisoned by cycles of hatred, where the dead are cursed instead of forgiven, and the living inherit only bitterness. But to speak blessings over the departed, as Museveni did, is to break that cycle. It is to say, “The struggle is past; let the future be healed.”

Practically, let us cultivate this spirit in our own lives. When we lose a loved one, or even when one who wronged us passes, let us not let anger rule our tongues. Instead, let us say, “May their soul rest in peace.” For in such words, we free not only the departed but ourselves. In communities, let us honor those who served, even if imperfectly, remembering that every human legacy is a mixture of light and shadow.

Thus, Museveni’s words stand not merely as a political courtesy, but as an ancient teaching dressed in modern speech: to honor the dead is to sow peace among the living. And if future generations remember this wisdom, they shall not be consumed by the grudges of the past, but shall walk forward with dignity, reconciliation, and the quiet strength of those who know that even enemies share the same mortal end.