When the Uganda Communications Commission (UCC) announced the suspension of internet services during the presidential and parliamentary elections, Gen Z collectively blinked in disbelief. It was as if someone had hit “pause” on the world, leaving us in a bizarre reality that felt ripped straight from The Walking Dead except our survival depended not on brains, but on Wi-Fi.
Before the blackout, life was a constant, effortless scroll. Ordering an Uber or a safe boda was a swipe away. Binge-watching the latest series, keeping up with news, or diving into memes required nothing more than a tap on a smartphone, laptop, or smart TV. The internet wasn’t just convenient it was oxygen.
Then came Wednesday evening. Silence. Phones became paperweights. Notifications disappeared like magic. Only government offices and hospitals retained their digital lifelines, leaving the rest of us adrift in a world that had slowed to a crawl. Suddenly, we understood, with a pang of awe, how our parents had survived and even thrived without apps that answered every question, tracked every movement, and entertained every idle second.
In a surprising twist, phone batteries once drained within hours suddenly stretched on for days. With social media, streaming apps, and endless background notifications gone, devices finally breathed. A full charge now lasted longer than two days, prompting the ironic realization that our obsession with connectivity had been quietly murdering battery life all along.
For many, the sudden quiet was unnerving, even surreal. People hoarded movies and series like survival rations, resurrected long-forgotten video game consoles, and turned to TV decoders to follow the elections. Streets once ignored in favor of screens became strangely alive. Conversations, unhurried and awkward at first, slowly resurfaced. The internet blackout didn’t just disconnect us, it reminded us that life, in its raw, unfiltered form, still went on.
Life Before the Internet in Uganda
According to the Uganda Communications Commission, life before the internet in Uganda was simple and communal. People relied on oral storytelling, clan meetings, and ceremonies to share knowledge, resolve disputes, and pass down traditions. Writing was limited until colonial times.
“Oral traditions dominated for centuries, supplemented by colonial-era post offices (Posta Uganda) from the 1900s to the 1970s for letters, and limited FM radio/TV after the 1986 liberalization. No mobile phones or internet until 1994-1995; elite landlines and computers (e.g., for payroll) were rare, fostering community reliance over individual connectivity. Public gatherings, markets, and shrines maintained social bonds without digital tools,” notes the UCC website.
Physical community hubs like village fireplaces and public radio discussions (“ebimeeza”) have declined as individuals increasingly access information solo via WhatsApp or Facebook, reducing shared public discourse. In urban areas like Kampala, limited access meant newspapers, landlines, and telex/fax dominated, while rural life revolved around agriculture. Post-1986 radio stations, with call-in shows like Ebimeeza, became critical for news, and postal letters often took weeks to reach international contacts.
How the Internet Affects Family Bonding
Today, many Ugandan families spend less time on collective activities. A study by Uganda Christian University found that 95% of internet users access content on mobile devices, fostering isolated screen time over shared meals or ceremonies.
The concern over digital isolation was highlighted by the Minister of Education and Sports and First Lady Janet Museveni on X (formerly Twitter) in 2022:
“As you, my young friends, devote all your time on social media platforms, it is very easy for your academic work to suffer. As parents spend lots of time on the same platforms, communication in families breaks down… family members are living as strangers under the same roof. Today, you find family members sitting together, but each one is busy on their phone or iPad… digital addiction is affecting academic performance and relationships.”
What Families Gained from the Internet Shutdown
Namulondo Harriet, a mother of three, told this newspaper that despite the internet’s convenience, the three-day shutdown was a “blessing in disguise.”
“I never used to get enough time to talk to my eldest son. Whenever I tried, he was absorbed in online documentaries. But during these three days, I got to talk with him without distractions and spent quality time with my family—laughing, watching TV, and bonding,” she said.
Grace Twongyeirwe echoed this sentiment, noting that children have become less social as phones replace normal conversations.
“The shutdown reminded me of when we could spend time with siblings and play with friends all day. Parents still need to create spaces where phones don’t dominate family time but foster interaction and togetherness,” she added.
Dr. Joyce Nalunga-Birimumaaso appreciated the return to analogue activities: “I finally had time to read a book in hard copy, play skipping rope with my children, and engage in board games. It allowed us to watch the election process together and share laughter—something rare in our digitally-dominated lives.”
Similarly, Samuel Davis Hiire reflected:
“The shutdown was a blessing. As parents, we normally set aside two hours a week for family time, but this showed me we need to create more opportunities to connect with our children. Life isn’t just about the internet; it’s about the person-to-person connections that keep families united and pass down shared values.”
The brief pause from digital life, though unexpected, offered Ugandan families a rare chance to reconnect, laugh, and bond—reminding all that sometimes, offline is the best place to be.
