By Alexander Luyima | The Hoima Post
There is a particular cruelty in watching people who once understood the struggles of the poor begin speaking about those struggles as though they were merely an inconvenience. Uganda’s renewed charcoal controversy has exposed precisely this tension: the collision between environmental protection, economic survival and the growing distance between public figures and the ordinary people whose experiences once gave their voices meaning.
At the centre of this debate is celebrated musician Eddy Kenzo, a man whose personal story and music have resonated with generations of Ugandans familiar with the harsh realities of life on Kampala’s streets. His recent defence of the shift away from charcoal has raised an uncomfortable question: when someone rises from deprivation to prominence, how well do they continue to understand those who remain trapped in it?
The controversy intensified after State Minister for Mineral Development Phiona Nyamutoro spoke publicly about abandoning charcoal in her household and encouraged Ugandans to embrace cleaner cooking alternatives. Her remarks attracted criticism from people who questioned whether ordinary households could realistically afford the alternatives being promoted.
Kenzo subsequently defended the case for change, arguing that cutting trees, producing charcoal, transporting it and using it are difficult, while also pointing to the health risks associated with charcoal smoke.
On the surface, these arguments are not without merit. Deforestation is a serious environmental concern, and smoke from solid fuels presents genuine health risks. Uganda has every reason to expand access to cleaner cooking technologies.
But there is a fundamental question that environmental advocates and policymakers must answer: what happens when the alternative to an unhealthy cooking fuel is financially out of reach for the people being asked to abandon it?
That is where this debate stops being merely about charcoal and becomes a question of class, public policy and social responsibility.
When environmental policy meets economic reality
In May 2023, President Yoweri Kaguta Museveni issued Executive Order No. 3, imposing restrictions on charcoal burning and trade in specified regions of Northern Uganda, West Nile, Teso and Karamoja. The directive was intended to address environmental degradation, including the destruction of indigenous trees.
Yet enforcement has brought renewed attention to a problem that cannot be resolved by directives alone: millions of households continue to depend on traditional biomass fuels because cleaner alternatives remain financially or practically inaccessible.
Parliament itself recognised the problem. On October 14, 2026, Speaker Jacob Marksons Oboth directed the suspension of enforcement pending a government statement on the restrictions and the availability of alternative cooking energy.
The concern was straightforward. Before government intensifies enforcement, it must demonstrate that ordinary citizens have realistic alternatives.
That is not an argument against environmental protection. It is an argument for environmental policy that recognises economic reality.
A household cannot cook a meal with a policy statement. A mother cannot feed her children with an announcement about clean energy. And a low-income family cannot automatically afford a gas cylinder, the initial equipment, subsequent refills or the other costs associated with changing its cooking arrangements simply because a public official has embraced a different lifestyle.
The transition must be affordable, accessible and practical.
The problem with forgetting the dust
Eddy Kenzo’s public image has long been connected to his journey from hardship to international recognition. His story has carried particular meaning for people who see their own struggles reflected in his rise.
The image of the Kaana Ka Mbaata, the resilient child who survives circumstances that might otherwise destroy him, provides a powerful cultural lens through which to examine this controversy.
Kenzo is entitled to advocate for cleaner cooking. He is entitled to defend environmental protection and to explain why he believes charcoal should be replaced. Disagreement with his position does not invalidate the environmental or public-health concerns behind it.
But the public is equally entitled to ask whether the conversation adequately recognises the circumstances of people who cannot afford the alternatives.
When the difficulties of producing and using charcoal become the principal argument for abandoning it, the discussion risks overlooking the economic forces that keep households dependent on it.
People do not necessarily choose charcoal because they enjoy the smoke, the soot or the inconvenience. For many, it is the option they can afford and access. Others depend on the trade itself for income, including producers, transporters, vendors and their families.
Their circumstances cannot be understood simply by describing charcoal as dirty or inconvenient.
The real question is not whether cleaner cooking is desirable. It is whether the country has made that transition possible for the people who need it most.
The tragedy of elite distance
There is a broader social pattern worth examining here. As individuals rise from difficult circumstances into positions of wealth, influence or political proximity, they can become increasingly removed from the realities that shaped their earlier lives.
That possibility deserves scrutiny, particularly when public figures use their platforms to support policies that directly affect low-income communities.
However, proximity to power does not automatically prove that someone has abandoned their origins. Nor does advocating cleaner cooking necessarily amount to contempt for poor people.
The issue is whether advocacy is accompanied by an adequate appreciation of the obstacles facing the people expected to change.
A successful musician can afford to recommend a different cooking method. A minister can champion a clean-energy campaign. But a household living on a limited income must calculate the actual cost of making that change.
Those are different economic realities, and public debate becomes weaker when it treats them as though they were the same.
Kenzo’s remarks therefore invite a larger conversation about the responsibilities that accompany cultural influence. When an artist’s story becomes a symbol of survival for disadvantaged communities, the public may reasonably expect that artist to engage their difficulties with sensitivity, even when advocating for necessary change.
That expectation is not a demand that successful people remain poor in their outlook or reject progress. It is a reminder that personal advancement should not erase the ability to understand those who have not enjoyed the same opportunities.
Government cannot outsource the cost of change to the poor
Ultimately, this controversy cannot be reduced to Eddy Kenzo or Phiona Nyamutoro. The central responsibility lies with the institutions charged with protecting the environment while ensuring that citizens can meet their basic needs.
Uganda’s clean-cooking ambitions require more than public awareness campaigns. They require affordable equipment, reliable distribution networks, accessible fuel supplies, practical financing arrangements and credible support for households and businesses affected by restrictions.
Government must also consider the people whose livelihoods depend on charcoal production and trade. A transition that protects forests while destroying incomes without providing realistic alternatives risks transferring the cost of environmental protection onto those least equipped to bear it.
Subsidies, targeted assistance, alternative livelihood programmes and a phased transition deserve serious consideration. Enforcement should be accompanied by clear guidance, transparent implementation and meaningful engagement with affected communities.
The environmental argument is important. So is the health argument. But neither removes the obligation to address affordability.
A policy cannot be judged solely by the environmental outcome it promises. Its implementation must also account for who bears the immediate costs, who receives the benefits and whether vulnerable households have a fair opportunity to adapt.
The dust has not disappeared
Eddy Kenzo has travelled far from the circumstances that first made his story resonate with so many people. That achievement deserves to be understood on its own terms. Yet his recent intervention has reopened a question that extends beyond one musician: what responsibility do influential people have when their advocacy touches the daily survival of communities they once represented?
The answer should not be to reject cleaner cooking or defend environmental destruction. It should be to insist that progress must be designed around the realities of ordinary people.
The poor should not be expected to finance a national energy transition through sacrifices they cannot afford. They should not have to choose between protecting their health and putting food on the table. And charcoal traders should not be treated as though their economic dependence on the trade makes them indifferent to the environment.
The Kaana Ka Mbaata may have risen above the dust, but the dust remains a daily reality for millions of Ugandans.
The real test of progress is not whether those who escape hardship can explain why others should change. It is whether the country can make change possible for those who have yet to escape it.
Until cleaner cooking becomes genuinely affordable and accessible, the charcoal debate will remain about much more than trees, smoke or soot. It will remain a test of whether Uganda’s pursuit of environmental progress can also deliver economic dignity to the people who need it most.
Alexander Luyima writes on social, economic and public affairs for The Hoima Post.
