Dr. Herman Joseph Musiitwa: an impactful life

Dr. Herman Joseph Musiitwa

Photo © Muniini K. Mulera

We mourn a friend and colleague whose death at Mulago Hospital, Kampala, on Friday July 26 has cast a chilly and dark shadow. Dr. Herman Joseph Musiitwa, a senior consultant surgeon in Masaka, was a beloved member of “The Class of 1977”, that being the year that we graduated from Makerere University Medical School after a venturesome five years. When we learnt of his illness on February 9, 2023, we felt anxious, for we understood the odds, but held onto the hope that treatment would be effective. He graciously kept us informed of his diagnosis, treatment and progress, giving us reason to smile as we rooted for him in his fight.

His trademark smile in a photograph that he personally posted on our class social media forum on April 9, 2024, was very reassuring. His smile was that of a senior citizen that had walked a long and very consequential journey. It was different from his smile, captured by an unknown photographer on March 18, 1977. That image, shared with us by Professor Gregory Thabiso Lebona, our classmate from Lesotho who was standing with Musiitwa on that very happy occasion, shows two young gentlemen, both with smiles that reported triumph and anticipation of life and service as medical doctors. The two photographs are bookends to Musiitwa’s life of extraordinary dedication and achievement.

He followed his graduation from medical school with postgraduate education in surgery, and a career of outstanding service at Masaka General Hospital. One can only imagine how many lives he saved, how many deformities he corrected, and how many people he relieved of pain. His work at Masaka Hospital that made the news, including leading a team on Monday May 19, 2003, that separated conjoint twins who shared a liver, was only a tiny window into a world populated by grateful citizens whose lives he had literally touched.

In societies where such consequential work is celebrated and rewarded, Dr. Musiitwa would have enjoyed excellent healthcare in his homeland when his inevitable moment of need arrived. Instead, he travelled to India in February 2023 to seek treatment, almost certainly at his own expense. His message to us about his response to the treatment left me filled with joy and frustration. Although my brother’s illness had been reversed, I could not but wonder why our country could not offer these services to its people.

Musiitwa was a dedicated surgeon who, despite the violence and chaos in the land, chose to stay in Uganda and serve our people. He probably saved the lives of some who now run the country and control the treasury. He may have known the inside of the bodies of those who subsequently rode past him in their gas-guzzling vehicles, escorted by high-speed armed convoys, as they rushed to weddings and funerals at their village mansions. He patiently provided health care at a hospital that was frequently reported among the most poorly funded medical centres in Uganda. He accepted financial remuneration that was well below what he deserved. His salary was way less than that enjoyed by central government politicians, many of whom could not justify their occupancy of seats in parliament and other bodies.

Now, here was, on the other side of the bed, very ill and unable to get his full care at home. I could not but ask myself the same old questions. What does India have that we lack? Why do we lack those services? Was Mulago Hospital not one of the leading healthcare centres in Africa when Musiitwa joined Makerere Medical School fifty-two years ago? What would it take to restore our national psyche to help reclaim that status? Is there hope of equality of citizenship, with shared access to the best comprehensive health care, regardless of social station? Is there hope of investing heavily in publicly accessible education and healthcare, the two pillars of social and economic development? What kind of healthcare should citizens expect when healthcare providers like Musiitwa are not guaranteed good healthcare in their own country?

In his travel between Masaka and Entebbe, Musiitwa probably recalled that well over US$ 110 million had already been thrown at a ghost hospital at Lubowa, Kampala, which was supposed to save him and fellow citizens the risks, expense and discomfort of traveling abroad for their healthcare. His sharp mind may have predicted that the budgeted expenditure on that ghost hospital would continue to grow. He probably watched doctors in India doing what Ugandan doctors, including himself, were perfectly capable of carrying out with similar expertise if they had the material and financial resources. One can only imagine his pain and frustration, even as he fought his personal illness with the limited resources he had.

The attrition of the Class of 1977 continues because we are all in what soccer rules call injury time. At least one-third of our graduating class is now in eternal rest. Musiitwa has joined a long list of men and women with whom we shared laughter and tears, hard work and play, and experiences that may sound like fiction to modern ears. We recall, with fondness and respect, our deceased colleagues - Drs. Liri Abongomera, Jackson Banana, Sanyu Wilson Byabanyagi, Livingstone Byarugaba, Naphtali Ebamu, Gamba-Osiga, Justus Katungu, Christopher Kayonga, John Kisitu, Aggrey Kiyingi, Manases Malabason, Gabriel Mariko, Haroon Masika, Charles Matovu, Sarah Mubiru, George Mugambwa, Dick Mulumba, Samuel Mutumba, Denis Mpwereirwe, Godfrey Barbosa Ndimbirwe, Augustine Nnywevu-Kasenge, Brent Nduhuura, Margaret Nyirenda-Momo, John Omodo, and David Senoga.

We have bidden farewell to our brother Musiitwa, and we feel the vacuum of his absence. Yet we celebrate his impactful life and legacy with a promise that we, The Class of 1977, shall remain true to our shared calling to serve humanity, to push for social justice, inspired by his exemplary life of service even when the darkest clouds hovered above our country. We are thrilled to know that his son, Dr. Peter Claver Mbidde Musiitwa, a surgical oncologist, now carries his father’s baton. May he keep the fire burning and push the boundaries of science and social justice.

On behalf of The Class of 1977, I send our condolences to Mrs Bibian Musiitwa, and her children Peter, Patricia, Herman, Hellen, Valley, and Vianney. Our memories of your husband, your father comfort us and cheer us. May your own memories of life with him bring you smiles through the tears. We miss him. We cherish him. We shall not forget Herman Musiitwa.