On my Harvard experience: I think one of the most impactful lessons I gained at Harvard was through a course on leadership, taught by Professor Ron Heifetz at the Harvard Kennedy School. He teaches adaptive leadership, which focuses on how to effect change in organizations, how to analyze situations, and how to prepare oneself internally for the challenges of leadership. It’s an incredibly comprehensive course, and it left a lasting impact on me.
One of the key lessons I learned from the course—and it’s something that resonated both in class and from my own experience—was the courage to act despite the dangers. The course teaches that, as leaders, we must acknowledge our personal failings, desires, and even the reasons we might fail or be "assassinated" figuratively. But despite those risks, nothing really changes unless individuals take action. That was a powerful lesson for me: recognizing the risks but still moving forward.
Another crucial skill I gained was the ability to analyze situations from multiple perspectives. Before Harvard, I was focused on my discipline as a lawyer, but at the Kennedy School—and through exposure to the business school—I learned to analyze situations from political, economic, psychological, and social angles. Harvard really emphasizes multidisciplinary thinking, and that’s been invaluable. It helps you step outside your own professional framework and see things more holistically.
In terms of mindset, Harvard instilled in me the belief that there are no real obstacles to achieving your goals, that you have agency and the power to make things happen if you so choose. When I was at HKS it was the Obama era, and the "Yes, we can" spirit was very much alive. That mindset—the belief that anything is possible—was incredibly inspiring and has shaped how I approach my work in Africa.
On making a difference post-Harvard: When I went back to Uganda, I was working as the Head of Legal at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs when I was asked to draft a bilateral agreement between Uganda and Trinidad and Tobago, which would involve sending Ugandan healthcare workers to Trinidad and Tobago to strengthen their health system. Initially, I was approached to handle it purely as a legal task. However, having taken courses in development, economics, government, and leadership during my time at Harvard, I knew I had to approach it differently.
The first thing I questioned was: why does this agreement make sense? Uganda’s doctor-to-patient ratio is already a problem—why would we send doctors out of the country when our healthcare system is so stretched? From a policy analysis perspective, it simply didn’t add up. So, I argued against it, highlighting the potential negative impacts on Uganda’s health system.
Despite my objections, the plan somehow gained momentum. Three weeks before the implementation, I was informed that the names of about 300 Ugandan healthcare workers had been published, and they were set to leave. I was shocked, especially when I learned that Mulago National Referral Hospital would lose about 90 doctors. The impact would have been catastrophic—lives would have been lost, and the doctors weren’t even being replaced.
It became a deeply moral issue for me. I could have stayed and said ‘I told you so’ when the negative outcomes became evident, but that didn’t feel like enough. People's lives were at stake—children, mothers in emergencies. So, I made the difficult decision to resign from my government position and then I sued the government, on the larger issue of medical brain drain. It wasn’t only happening in Uganda – developed countries were taking Africa’s talented medics, leaving behind weakened health systems, and I saw this as a developmental injustice.
It wasn’t easy. I faced a lot of backlash—colleagues accused me of all sorts of things, and I had 300 healthcare workers angry at me because they had invested money to get on the shortlist for this opportunity. But despite the enormous personal cost—resigning from my job and facing public criticism—I felt it was the right thing to do. Politically, the move was stopped, and I believe we saved many lives by preventing this brain drain from decimating our healthcare system.
This case resonated not only in Uganda but also in other countries facing similar challenges, like Zimbabwe, Kenya, Ghana, and even the Philippines and India, where healthcare systems have been destabilized by medical brain drain. It was a significant moment in my career, and the lessons I learned at Harvard about the courage and dangers of leadership provided me with some comfort during that difficult time. In the end, it was a challenging period, but it was worth it because of the lives we were able to save.
On Impact: After I resigned from my government job, I was jobless for a while. Fortunately, I received a scholarship to Georgetown University to pursue a Master's in Global Health Law, which was an incredible experience. After completing my degree, I returned to Uganda and positioned myself at the unique intersection of law, policy, and public health. This has allowed me to work on significant issues affecting Uganda, particularly in the realm of health security.
Given Uganda’s proximity to the DRC, we are particularly vulnerable to pandemics. In addition to COVID-19, we frequently deal with outbreaks like Ebola, mpox, and now Marburg. Historically, Uganda has been heavily dependent on donor assistance to safeguard its own health security. However, as we’ve faced increasing challenges with donor support, I was able to help secure something unprecedented: the first-ever domestic investment by the Ugandan government in its own health security. We secured 57.8 billion Ugandan shillings, approximately $15 million, dedicated to investing in our health infrastructure.
This was a major breakthrough because it marked the first time the Ugandan government committed its own resources to health security, signaling a move towards sustainability and self-reliance. I’m particularly proud of this achievement because it demonstrates that we can invest in what truly matters to us as a nation. This initiative was made possible through partnerships with organizations like the Bloomberg Foundation and the Global Health Advocacy Incubator, and I’m grateful for their support in making this a reality.
On Failure: My story of overcoming failure was my Harvard experience itself. I was working as a diplomat on a mission to the UN in Geneva when I applied to the Kennedy School. The challenge was that I didn’t have the money to pay for the course. I needed around $100,000 but I only had $700 in my pocket. Regardless, I decided to go.
Cambridge is, of course, an expensive place to live, and on top of that, I had requested leave from the Ugandan government, but they hadn’t responded. The school was also pressuring me to confirm my attendance since there were people on the waiting list. So, I confirmed and left, even though I didn’t have the funds or approval for leave.
By September—three or four months into the program—I received a message from Harvard’s finance department saying that since I hadn’t paid any tuition, they were discontinuing me. Around the same time, the Ugandan government finally responded to my leave request, which they hadn’t granted. Essentially, I was being let go from both school and my job at the same time.
I was in a tough situation—I had no job, no school, and no return ticket home. I started attending classes as a sort of “fugitive student,” sneaking into lectures and asking classmates to share notes and forward materials to my personal email since I had lost access to my official Harvard accounts.
By October or November, it became overwhelming, and I seriously considered quitting. I spoke to a Kenyan friend of mine at HKS. I explained that I had no money, no food, and no idea how I was going to continue. He reached out to Prof. Deborah Hughes-Hallett at HKS, and she came to speak with me one day while I was sitting in the cafeteria, feeling defeated.
Deborah was very understanding, and after hearing my story, she took it up with the dean. The dean reviewed my situation, including my previous academic performance, and decided that I shouldn’t be kicked out over finances. He said he couldn’t waive the fees, but he would advocate for me to get more time to pay. I signed a commitment to pay by December.
December came, and I still couldn’t afford it. I was kicked out again. The same thing happened in January, and once again, Deborah and the dean helped me get reinstated. This cycle happened multiple times—March, May—even up until the final exams, when they said I wouldn’t be allowed to sit. But ultimately, they let me complete my studies. Deborah even gave me her air miles so I could travel back to Uganda, as I didn’t have enough money for a ticket home.
In the end, despite being kicked out multiple times, I was reinstated each time. It was a scary experience, but one I often share because it highlights that things won’t always align perfectly, especially financially. Going to Harvard with just $700 was incredibly risky, and if things had gone differently, it could have been seen as a foolish decision. But, sometimes you just have to take the leap.
On Advice to Current or Prospective African Students: My advice is simple: have the courage to apply. Don’t let the financial challenges deter you. Just take the leap—jumping in is the first step. There’s a Paulo Coelho quote from The Alchemist that says, 'When you really want something, the universe conspires to help you achieve it.' If you want to go to Harvard, just apply, and you might be surprised how things work out. But also, think about what you want to do when you return to Africa. That’s important. Harvard isn’t just looking for people who want to go for the prestige; they want to see that you have a plan for how you’ll make an impact back in your country after your time there.
