By Richard Onapatum
KOTIDO, UGANDA – In the remote heartland of Karamoja, where cattle once dictated the worth of a woman and the word of elders was final, a quiet revolution is stirring.
In Kotido, women are rewriting the rules of tradition and challenging long-held patriarchal norms, armed not with placards but with passbooks, peer solidarity, and the power of community savings.
Through Village Savings and Loan Associations (VSLAs), these women, once passive recipients of decisions now mobilizing as agents of advocacy, courageously confronting practices like widow inheritance and pressing for inclusion in government-led development programs like the Parish Development Model (PDM).
“We started saving to buy goats and seeds,” says Lokwang Peter, chairperson of the Kalokuruk VSLA. “But we realized we could also use our meetings to talk about women’s pain and their power.”
What began as modest efforts to support income-generating activities has evolved into a broader social movement. VSLAs, particularly those led by women, are now operating as advocacy hubs, educating members about land rights, exposing misuse of PDM funds, and resisting cultural practices that disempower women.
One such practice is widow inheritance. In Karamoja, when a man dies, his widow is traditionally handed over to a male relative, often without consent.
“My husband paid 30 head of cattle as dowry. When he died, I was inherited by his brother. When he died, I was passed to another,” recalls Angella Maria, her voice steady with resolve. “I had no choice.”
Lotyang Agnes Lokiru echoes the pain: “The man was not my choice, but I couldn’t refuse. The elders wouldn’t listen. Their minds are on cattle.”
Now, backed by VSLA networks, women like Angella and Agnes are saying no.
Traditional leaders such as Kapeps Akore John Bosco, while defending widow inheritance as a “cultural safeguard,” acknowledge that some aspects—like sons inheriting stepmothers—are no longer acceptable.
“A man who enters the house of a widow before inheritance rituals may fall sick,” he warns, citing local beliefs.
Yet, even these leaders are starting to hear the voices of resistance—carried into clan shrines by the wives of male elders, who have become unlikely messengers of change.
“We must hold the decision-makers accountable,” says Lokwang. “We are creating a safe space for girls and women to thrive.”
VSLAs in Kotido are now playing a pivotal role in promoting financial literacy and entrepreneurship, educating women on legal rights and land ownership, monitoring PDM disbursement and challenging corruption, and supporting widows and vulnerable groups to access services.
With support from projects like GROW and government programs, women-led groups are being equipped with credit, training, and platforms for civic engagement.
“We are not just saving money,” says Koryang, a member of one of the VSLAs. “We are saving each other—and saving the system from failure.”
The results speak for themselves. Dozens of widows have successfully resisted forced inheritance. Women now serve on parish PDM committees. Community dialogues and peer education are spreading legal awareness.
Charles Ichogor, the Kotido Resident District Commissioner, affirms the momentum: “Women are now able to challenge decisions made without their input. They’ve long suffered under oppressive norms with little intervention.”
Yet challenges persist—cultural resistance, limited legal aid, and logistical constraints still hamper efforts. But the determination remains unshaken.
“We are not waiting for change,” insists Lochoro, a widow-turned-activist. “We are becoming the change.”
What’s happening in Kotido is more than just a local story—it is a blueprint for inclusive rural development across Uganda. In a region where silence once masked suffering, the voices of Kotido’s women are rising—not in protest, but in power.
Through every meeting, every savings goal, and every legal breakthrough, they are building not just better households—but a more just society.
