On October 11, 2026, the skies over Kampala opened, and the city drowned. Again.
Heavy rains swept across the Ugandan capital, leaving two people dead and a trail of destroyed property in their wake. Police reported that an unidentified man’s body was recovered from a drainage trench in Bulabira Zone, another soul swallowed by the city’s failing infrastructure.
Hours earlier, 25-year-old Jalia Nameere died instantly when a perimeter wall collapsed onto her rented room in Kyanja, crushed by the weight of waterlogged earth and negligent urban planning.
Floodwater, stranded commuters, submerged vehicles, and livelihoods were swept away. For the families picking through the mud-soaked remnants of their lives, climate change is not an abstract scientific debate confined to academic journals or UN summits.
For residents whose homes and businesses have flooded, it is an immediate, visceral economic and human-security concern.
Yet these deaths raise an uncomfortable, urgent question: Why does heavy rainfall continue to expose Ugandans to foreseeable, preventable dangers when government agencies have already issued explicit warnings, and Parliament has extensively debated the coming threat?
The question is particularly relevant to the 12th Parliament’s first 100 days and beyond. Its August deliberations on disaster preparedness offered a historic opportunity to turn meteorological warnings into preventive, life-saving action.
The subsequent funding concerns surrounding the government’s El Niño contingency plan now provide a definitive test of whether parliamentary debate can deliver measurable results, or if it remains mere political theatre.
THE WARNING WAS CLEAR
Uganda was not caught off guard. The Uganda Department of Meteorological Services, under the ministry of Water and Environment, forecast near-normal to above-normal rainfall across most of the country during the September– December 2026 season.
Its October update was even more dire, warning that enhanced rainfall would exponentially increase flooding, waterlogging, and devastating landslides in vulnerable, high-risk areas.
They cautioned that rainfall is expected to peak toward the end of October and continue through November. The regional outlook is equally concerning. The Intergovernmental Authority on Development’s (IGAD) Climate Prediction and Applications Centre (ICPAC) has warned of wetter-than-normal conditions across significant parts of the Greater Horn of Africa.
On October 8, the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) reported that the developing El Niño was expected to intensify and persist into early 2027, potentially becoming one of the strongest such events since 1950.
While El Niño influences rainfall differently across regions, meaning not every part of East Africa will experience identical conditions, the overarching signal is unequivocal: extreme weather is imminent.
The science of early warning is not a prediction of precisely when every street will flood or which wall will collapse. It is a systemic alarm bell intended to help governments prepare, preposition resources, and mitigate risk. Uganda, therefore, was not without notice.
The alarm was sounded; the sirens were deafening. But when the floodwaters rose, the city was found sleeping.
PARLIAMENT DISCUSSED IT. WHAT FOLLOWED?
On August 12, Parliament debated disaster preparedness following a statement by the Minister for Relief, Disaster Preparedness and Refugees, Sam Engola. Lawmakers called for a paradigm shift: moving away from the cyclical, reactive distribution of emergency relief, the perennial mabati and beans, and towards addressing the underlying causes of vulnerability.
The discussion spanned food insecurity in Karamoja, the dire need for irrigation, chronic drainage failures, government food reserves, and the anticipated El Niño rains.
The minister said the government was developing a comprehensive contingency plan covering critical sectors, including agriculture, food security, transport, and health. It sounded proactive.
It sounded decisive. But on September 20, The Independent reported a starkly different reality: the Office of the Prime Minister (OPM) had developed a costed El Niño preparedness and response plan, but it was still awaiting funding.
The report highlighted critical shortages affecting the pre-positioning of emergency supplies and equipment in disaster-prone districts.
THAT IS THE ACCOUNTABILITY GAP & A DISASTER MANUFACTURED BY POLICY
What does it mean to discuss a foreseeable emergency in Parliament if the necessary interventions remain unfunded? Has Cabinet approved the plan? How much money has the ministry of Finance actually released?
Which vulnerable districts have received equipment and supplies? What preventive infrastructure works remain incomplete? The available public information does not conclusively establish whether the funding constraints have since been resolved.
But the bodies recovered from Kampala’s drainage trenches suggest they have not. Parliament must obtain these answers aggressively, rather than assume that announcing a plan amounts to implementing one.
A plan on paper does not make reinforced concrete. The latest flooding has renewed fierce criticism of wetland encroachment, drainage failures, and criminally negligent urban planning.
Reporting by Nilepost on October 12 described city leaders blaming unregulated development on wetlands and drainage channels for worsening Kampala’s vulnerability.
Calls renewed for the city to implement its Shs 836 billion drainage master plan—a blueprint that has gathered dust for years while developers pave over natural water catchments.
Kampala Capital City Authority (KCCA) had already announced preparations for the rainy season. In August, Deputy Executive Director Benon Kigenyi offered assurances: “We cannot stop the rain, but we can prepare Kampala to manage it better.”
KCCA reported identifying 69 flood-prone locations for monitoring and drainage maintenance. The question, however, is whether these interventions are sufficient, properly funded, and consistently implemented.
Identifying 69 flood-prone areas is an administrative exercise; clearing the drains and stopping wetland encroachment is an executive one. Environmental theory offers a vital lens here.
German sociologist Ulrich Beck’s concept of the “risk society” describes how modern societies increasingly confront hazards that are not acts of God, but are produced or intensified by their own development choices.
In Kampala, extreme rainfall interacts with chaotic settlement patterns, dilapidated drainage infrastructure, systemic wetland degradation, and the selective enforcement of planning regulations. The rain may be natural.
The scale of the damage is shaped by human decisions and human corruption. Environmental justice adds another damning dimension: the people most exposed to flooding are not necessarily those best equipped to recover.
Low-income households in vulnerable settlements like Kyanja and Bulabira can lose their homes, possessions, and livelihoods in a single night. The wealthy retreat to elevated suburbs; the poor are left to absorb the shock.
The costs of inadequate urban planning are borne disproportionately by those with the fewest alternatives. Jalia Nameere did not choose to live in the path of a flood; she chose what she could afford.
This is why flood preparedness is not merely an engineering issue. It is a question of governance, public finance, and the fundamental state obligation to protect its citizens.
EAST AFRICA’S SHARED VULNERABILITY
Uganda cannot treat climate-related disasters as isolated national events. The Lake Victoria basin connects Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania.
Shared catchments, vital transport corridors, and interdependent food markets mean that extreme rainfall can disrupt livelihoods and infrastructure across borders. Regional forecasts also identify significant flood risks in parts of Kenya, Rwanda, Burundi, and Tanzania.
Displacement in Uganda strains resources elsewhere; crop failure in one nation spikes food prices across the region. Uganda needs stronger, institutionalized cooperation on rainfall monitoring, flood warnings, and cross-border emergency preparedness.
But regional cooperation cannot replace domestic responsibility. You cannot coordinate with neighbours if your own house is sinking. The OPM must coordinate a ruthless, effective national response.
The ministry of Finance must clarify funding arrangements and release the money. Sector agencies and local governments must demonstrate operational readiness, not just draft workshops. And Parliament must scrutinize the entire chain.
PARLIAMENT’S 100-DAY ACCOUNTABILITY TEST
Parliament’s constitutional responsibilities are clear: representation, legislation, appropriation, and oversight. The El Niño threat tests all four. MPs must move beyond issuing condolences on X (formerly Twitter).
They should use their pulpit and committees to obtain a costed contingency plan, demand a transparent account of approved and released funding, and require hard evidence of completed preventive measures in vulnerable districts.
They should examine whether roads, bridges, drainage systems, and emergency facilities are structurally ready. They should verify whether early warnings actually reach exposed communities in time, and in languages they understand.
They should also track post-emergency spending, ensuring lessons translate into better infrastructure and reduced vulnerability, not inflated contracts and vanished funds. Parliament cannot control the weather.
It can, however, hold the executive accountable for acting on credible warnings. The deaths in Kampala should not become just another grim cycle of condolence motions, emergency relief distribution, and forgotten promises.
About the author: Tolit Charles Atiya is a governance, peace and security researcher and policy analyst. He is Associate Lead Researcher at the Security Studies and Analysis Center (SESAC), Nkumba University, and writes on governance, public accountability, regional security, and political economy.