When Covid-19 struck in 2020, Uganda went into lockdown, halting many government operations.
At the Ministry of Agriculture, however, the crisis created a fertile ground for corruption.
Instead of returning unspent funds to the treasury, top officials devised ways to exhaust the budget through fictitious expenditures, claiming to buy food and rehabilitate facilities.
Among the fraudulent activities was a concocted spending spree on Bukalasa Agricultural College and the Fisheries Training Institute, a scheme that would eventually be valued at nine billion shillings.
The architects of this operation were identified as Stephen Nzogi, Kenneth Mugumya, and Betty Nanyondo, all senior technocrats in the ministry.
For months, the scheme went unnoticed until a routine audit by Godfrey Odong, a staff member in the Auditor General’s office, brought it to light. Odong’s report was detailed, damning, and left little doubt about the fraudulent nature of the expenditures.
In effect, he became the whistleblower who exposed one of the most significant Covid-era thefts in the agricultural sector.
The Inspectorate of Government (IGG) took up the matter, assigning the investigation to Joram Magezi, who at the time headed the Directorate of Special Investigations.
Magezi’s findings mirrored Odong’s earlier report, confirming the loss of the nine billion shillings and identifying the key players.
The IGG’s office began preparing for a surprise swoop on the ministry to arrest and prosecute those involved. But before the operation could be executed, the plan was leaked by a senior officer within the IGG to the very suspects it targeted.
News of the impending arrests quickly reached then Agriculture Minister Vincent Ssempijja.
The Minister promptly requested a meeting with IGG Beti Kamya. In that meeting, the minister and other officials argued that the case was “sensitive” because it implicated more than 20 top and mid-level officials across the ministry.
Such a sweep, they warned, could cause major disruptions. Instead, they proposed that the matter first be handled internally before the Inspectorate stepped in.
Beneath this appeal for caution, however, was an undercurrent of self-interest.
It was alleged that the implicated officials had already given the politicians150 million shillings to help fund their 2021 parliamentary campaigns.
But when the politcians learned from the IGG’s report that the total amount stolen was far greater than they had been told, they reportedly felt shortchanged.
Sources claim this discovery was the real reason they insisted on handling the matter internally, to extract a bigger payoff from the perpetrators.
Months passed, and pressure mounted on IGG’s office to act.
Yet instead of authorizing arrests, The IGG Betty Kamy reached a compromise with the suspects, allowing them to refund the stolen money over time.
This arrangement infuriated both Odong and Magezi.
In their view, it was a betrayal of the investigative process and a signal that even when caught red-handed, public servants could escape accountability.
The decision also undermined the Whistleblower Act, which promises informants a five percent share of recovered funds.
Odong never received his due. Instead, he was placed on “katebe” (sent on leave) sidelined without deployment for years.
He was shunned by accounting officers in various ministries and only recently resurfaced with a transfer to the Ministry of Gender.
Magezi fared little better. Removed from his powerful position in the Special Investigations Directorate, he was transferred to the Directorate of Leadership Code, a unit notorious for being underfunded and idle.
It was, in essence, a professional demotion for standing firm.
Meanwhile, the three principal culprits Nzogi, Mugumya, and Nanyondo faced no criminal sanction.
Instead, they were rewarded with promotions and transfers to the Ministry of Education.
This curious turn of events was orchestrated with the involvement of the Office of the Internal Auditor General, led by Fixon Okonye.
At Agriculture, Nzogi had been the principal auditor. Once at Education, he was elevated to commissioner a promotion that reportedly received Okonye’s blessing through his role on the Public Service Commission.
Kamya, for her part, gave the suspects 28 weeks to return the nine billion shillings.
That deadline has long passed without substantial recovery of the funds.
Reports have since emerged that a senior official in the IGG’s office was offered a plot of land in Entebbe to ensure the case was buried.
The trail of evidence suggests that the refund agreement was never seriously enforced and that those responsible for the theft have continued in their careers unscathed.
Today, no one has been prosecuted over the scandal, and much of the money remains unaccounted for.
What began as a clear-cut case of fraud, confirmed by both the Auditor General’s office and the Inspectorate’s own investigators, has degenerated into a textbook example of how political connections and institutional compromise can subvert justice.
As Kamya seeks an extension of her contract, which expires in September, this episode casts a long shadow over her tenure.
Critics argue that it undermines her credibility as an anti-corruption crusader.
The case has also emboldened a dangerous perception in public service: that stealing is permissible if one is not caught, and even if caught, the path to redemption is simply to promise repayment in installments while keeping one’s job.
The fate of those who spoke out, sidelined, demoted, and professionally ostracized stands in stark contrast to the fortunes of those implicated, who were promoted and shielded from accountability.
It sends a chilling message to potential whistleblowers: exposing corruption could be the fastest route to career ruin.
In the end, the agriculture scandal of 2020 is not just a story about the theft of nine billion shillings. It is a case study in how institutions mandated to fight corruption can become complicit in its perpetuation, how political influence can derail justice, and how the machinery of accountability can be turned against the very people who try to uphold it.
It is also a reminder that the real cost of corruption is not only measured in stolen funds, but in the erosion of trust in public institutions.
In this case, the beneficiaries of the fraud have moved on to more senior positions, possibly with greater access to public resources.
The whistleblowers have been pushed to the margins.
