by Karen Theroux

It outlasted Idi Amin. Thirty years later, can East Africa’s flagship university survive its own success?

On a balmy July day in Kampala, Uganda, a visitor to Makerere university’s campus finds the sleepy atmosphere of any school in summer session. Small groups of students stroll in and out of the library while others lounge, reading or chatting, on shady benches and steps. But take a walk to the Senate building and you’ll see something different. The atmosphere is charged. Young people crowd nervously around the entranceway, jockeying for position as they pore over papers tacked on bulletin boards.

On this day the academic registrar posts the admissions list and aspiring Makerere students rush to campus to look for their names. Getting in means everything: a solid education, prestige, career opportunities, a better life, they say. Inevitably, it will also mean paying fees, attending large classes, sharing scarce computers and, in many cases, commuting to class in a crowded minibus from a distant hostel. None of that seems to matter. “This is the best school in the country, in Africa!” “I’ve been dreaming of coming here all my life.” “Makerere graduates have their pick of the best jobs.”

In a way, this vignette evokes the big picture, and big problems, facing Makerere today and far into the future. The university in Uganda, it’s a huge source of pride throughout the country and East Africa. Its first-rate reputation, eminent faculty and high academic standards never fail to attract ambitious students—no glitzy recruitment campaigns needed—and they apply in droves.

For decades, the selective public university enrolled fewer than three thousand students, all on full government scholarships. But privatization arrived in 1992. More than ten times as many students are admitted now, with only a small percentage government sponsored and many more (some say beyond what the school can really manage) paying their own fees and providing the university with essential funds. The demand for a Makerere diploma seems boundless, and in marketing terms, the brand is unquestionably a success.

But can Makerere deliver? When the new students arrive, will there be enough seats, or lecturers, textbooks or lab supplies for all? Huge demand and explosive growth have left Makerere struggling on every front: resources; infrastructure; oversight; faculty support; technology and scholarship. It’s a long list of critical issues, many of which are shared by other African institutions.

Quintas Oula Obong, a lecturer in Makerere’s department of political science, examined the paradox of increased financial resources and declining educational standards, and found that, yes, admitting large numbers of private students did generate significant additional resources to finance university activities. “Unfortunately, however, these changes have had a dampening effect on academic standards and the quality of scholarship,” Obong writes. The fixation on costs and transfer of power from faculty to managers are partly to blame. Plus, “A combination of low socio-economic status experienced by the professors in the past and declining morality among public servants has combined to weaken faculty commitment toward academic standards and excellence in scholarship.” ¹ He cautions that the “money culture” that has emerged at Makerere “may be happening in other universities.” Assuming that’s the case, understanding events in Uganda may provide a window on the challenges facing higher education all over Africa.

Next page: Fifty or so years ago a comparison was drawn between Makerere and Harvard
and, accurate or not, it stuck.

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