Some artists entertain us. Some educate us. Some challenge us to think differently. And then there are those rare artists who become part of the history of their art form.
Alex Mukulu was one of those rare artists.
Uganda has lost a giant — a legendary artiste, writer, director, actor, broadcaster, mentor and cultural thinker whose contribution to Ugandan theatre, radio and popular culture will remain with us for generations.
Alex was a master of the abstract and the authentic. His art was never merely about telling a story. It was about making audiences look deeper, question what they saw and discover meaning beyond the obvious. He understood the power of symbolism and used it with extraordinary precision.
His work could be humorous, painful, musical, political, philosophical and deeply Ugandan — sometimes all at once.
I first encountered Alex when I accompanied my sister to a rehearsal around Mengo. What I saw was unlike anything I had expected. There were no people simply “playing”. There were military drills, commands, discipline and an extraordinary commitment to the craft. There was creative dance, music and serious drama.
The group was preparing for a tour with Impact International, which would take them to Vienna, Austria, Italy and other parts of Europe. It was then that I began to understand the scale of Alex’s artistic vision.
One performance, in particular, has stayed with me. It featured an abstract representation of a leader whose ears became progressively smaller as he gained power. The symbolism was striking. It was impossible not to think about how leaders can become increasingly disconnected from the voices of the people they govern.
The image has remained with me for years.
I would later encounter Alex in different settings — including during the writing of a concept for Vision Group at his home — and hear stories about his work during Cease Fire and about moments when his intentions as an artist were misunderstood.
If there was one thing you could say about Alex, it was that he knew exactly what he wanted to say and how to say it. He was not afraid to confront bad habits, social contradictions or uncomfortable truths. He understood that an artist’s responsibility is sometimes to hold up a mirror to society, even when society does not like the reflection.
Through works such as Wounds of Africa, 30 Years of Bananas, Guest of Honour, Radio Mambo Bado and Samson and Delilah, Alex demonstrated what Ugandan theatre could become when creativity was married to discipline, originality and a deep understanding of people.
His plays were also alive with music. Music was not simply an accompaniment to his stories; it was part of the language through which he communicated. Even in his early days, when he formed a band, one could see the breadth of his artistic imagination. He was an artiste who refused to be confined to a single box.
But Alex Mukulu’s artistry did not end on the stage.
He also found a powerful voice on radio, where many Ugandans came to know another side of his genius. As Kalekyezi on Simba FM, he brought a distinctive personality and authenticity to Ugandan football commentary.
He did not simply commentate on football. He gave it colour, character and theatre. Through his voice, the game became an experience.
Perhaps, however, one of Alex’s greatest legacies was not only what he created, but the people he shaped.
He was known to be strict. Very strict. But his strictness came from conviction. He demanded excellence because he believed artists could do better. He mentored and influenced generations of performers, among them accomplished artistes such as Phillip Luswata and Eron Ntuulo Matovu.
For many young artists, Alex was not always the easiest teacher. But he was the kind of teacher whose lessons stayed with you.
He believed in discipline. He believed in authenticity. He believed in preparation. Above all, he believed that art mattered.
What makes his legacy even more remarkable is that, despite the stature he had earned over decades, he understood that art must create space for the next generation.
We saw this in his willingness to share the stage with younger people, including during his appearances on Bukedde TV, particularly on Yolesa Ekitone alongside Diana Nabatanzi, and more recently in Cease Fire.
He could have remained distant, protected by the reputation he had built over decades. Instead, he continued to engage, perform and create alongside younger artistes.
That is the mark of a true master.
A master does not only leave behind great works. A master leaves behind people.
Alex Mukulu leaves behind ideas, performances, characters, songs, laughter, lessons, arguments, memories and, most importantly, an artistic language that many Ugandan performers will continue to speak.
His work reminded us that theatre can be entertaining without losing its depth; that comedy can carry serious truths; that symbolism can speak where ordinary words fail; and that authenticity is perhaps the most powerful tool an artist can possess.
Today, we mourn the man. But we also celebrate the artist.
We celebrate the director who demanded that a story be told properly.
We celebrate the writer who saw Uganda through a unique lens.
We celebrate the performer who could command a stage.
We celebrate the broadcaster whose voice brought football alive.
We celebrate the musician and lover of great sound.
We celebrate the mentor who pushed others to become better.
And we celebrate the cultural giant who gave Ugandan art a distinctive voice.
Alex Mukulu was not simply part of Uganda’s artistic history. He helped write it.
His passing leaves a silence that will be difficult to fill. But perhaps the greatest tribute we can give him is not simply to mourn him. It is to continue the work: to demand excellence, to be authentic, to tell our own stories, to mentor those coming behind us, to respect the craft and never to be afraid of art that makes people think.
For generations to come, when the story of Ugandan theatre and broadcasting is told, the name Alex Mukulu will stand among the greats.
The master has taken his final bow.
But his art will keep speaking.
Rest in power, Alex Mukulu, Muzzukulu wa Kabangala.
You gave Uganda your voice.
Uganda will remember your voice.
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