How witchdoctors & pastors are cashing in on Uganda's cabinet frenzy

________________

By Crispin Kaheru

With President Museveni’s swearing-in on 12th May 2026 and a new Cabinet expected to follow shortly after, the scramble for ministerial positions has once again turned into an industry.

An industry that feeds not only political brokers and middlemen, but also a rapidly expanding spiritual economy of witchdoctors, traditional healers, self-proclaimed prophets and, figuratively speaking, “pastors.” Welcome to the politics of God, and God in Africa.

Every five years in Uganda, after a presidential election, a peculiar ritual begins. Members of Parliament, former ministers, political operatives and ambitious technocrats all launch what is commonly known as the “cabinet scramble”, an intense behind-the-scenes campaign to secure ministerial appointments from the President.

The Cabinet, made up of more than 30 full ministers and over 50 Ministers of State, remains one of the most coveted prizes in Ugandan politics. There, you have a guaranteed salary, government vehicle, security detail, public visibility and, of course, proximity to state resources.

During this period, “baferes” (political middlemen) emerge everywhere, promising access, influence and proximity to power. Many MPs are extorted with promises that someone, somewhere, can whisper their name into the right ear.

It is in this atmosphere of uncertainty, competition and desperation that the spiritual economy thrives. When the stakes are extraordinarily high and certainty is elusive, people reach for every possible advantage, rational or otherwise. In Uganda, that advantage often comes wrapped in animal skins, holy oil, or a prophetic word occasionally delivered with theatrical confidence.

The crossover between pastor and witchdoctor personas reflects the entrepreneurial creativity of Uganda’s spiritual economy, where the lines between religion, ritual and commerce have become profitably blurred.

Many Ugandans simultaneously believe in imported religions and indigenous African spirituality, though few openly admit it. The cabinet formation period amplifies this duality. If the witchdoctor’s shrine is the shadow side of Uganda’s political spiritual economy, then the “church” is its gleaming, air-conditioned counterpart.

Pastors and prophets seize microphones to declare winners before appointments are made, “anointed by God,” “chosen for this season,” “the Lord revealed it to me.” Politicians do not merely benefit from such proclamations; in many cases, they commission them. They pay for them.

So, how much does God “cost” in our politics today?

Quantifying the spiritual economy is difficult by design because both witchdoctors and pastors operate largely in cash and outside formal financial systems. Their political clients have every incentive to maintain secrecy. Yet available evidence points to a highly profitable industry.

Some of Africa’s richest pastors are estimated to be worth millions of dollars, partly built on “political consulting.” For witchdoctors, the pricing is more granular but equally lucrative during election and cabinet formation seasons. A basic consultation may cost a few hundred thousand shillings, but services tailored to political outcomes such as “binding a rival,” “securing an appointment,” or protecting against “dark magic” from enemies command premium rates.

The business model is perfectly suited to political uncertainty. A witchdoctor or pastor operating in the cabinet-appointment market does not need to guarantee results. They simply need to create plausible deniability while exploiting confirmation bias. If a client gets appointed, the spiritual intervention receives the credit, generating referrals and reputation. If the client fails, the blame shifts to insufficient faith, unpaid spiritual debts or enemy interference, all of which require additional services and payments.

In the language of economics, it is a market built on asymmetric information, zero refund obligations and unlimited repeat-purchase potential.

The spiritual economy surrounding Uganda’s cabinet formation carries costs far beyond individual transactions between politicians and their spiritual consultants. Politicians who spend millions seeking divine endorsement or supernatural advantage often feel compelled to recover those costs once in office. The result is obvious; the spiritual economy feeds the corruption economy.

The politics of God in Africa is, ultimately, the politics of hope, fear, ambition and uncertainty colliding in one crowded space. As long as cabinet positions are viewed less as burdens of national service and more as crowns of power, prestige and access to seemingly infinite resources, the shrines will remain crowded, the prophets will keep prophesying, and politicians will continue desperately searching for favour everywhere; in State House corridors, in whispered networks, and in the spiritual realm itself.

In Africa, faith has never been far from politics. The danger is that, too often, the line between divine guidance and profitable theatre is dangerously thin.

The writer is a member of the Uganda Human Rights Commission (UHRC)