KCCA’s treatment of Bright Anukani has now morphed into a full-fledged tragicomedy, the kind of theatre where the audience laughs, not because it’s funny, but because the alternative is to weep at the absurdity before them.
Lugogo hasn’t just mishandled a player; they’ve orchestrated a grand, slow-motion suffocation of one of the most naturally gifted attacking midfielders this country has produced in a decade.
A club that proudly markets itself as “professional” somehow contrived to forget that a player, a contracted player, a marquee signing returning home, actually needs a license to play football.
The sheer administrative indolence it takes to sideline a player for an entire half-season over paperwork is astonishing. If incompetence were a trophy, Lugogo would have clinched the treble by now.
Let’s be honest: when Anukani left Vipers, he wasn’t lighting up the league like a Roman candle, but he certainly wasn’t a washed-up relic either. His graph wasn’t falling, it was simply waiting for the right hand to correct its trajectory.
And Vipers were willing to be that hand. Dr. Lawrence Mulindwa adored his artistry, the fans worshipped him, and the dressing room saw him as one of their own. Kitende had plans for him, real plans, not “roadmaps” and endless committee meetings. They wanted to refine him, elevate him, weaponise him.
Then came KCCA. And with them, the slow death of momentum.
Instead of unleashing him as a playmaking menace in the UPL, the club has condemned him to junior-team purgatory, not because he lacks talent, not because he’s unfit, but because someone, somewhere, couldn’t get his licensing done. For months. In 2025. In a club that claims to be chasing continental relevance. CAF must be watching in bewilderment.
And just when you think the situation couldn’t get more farcical, we hear that KCCA actually flirted with the idea of releasing him before the season started, only to backpedal when they realised they’d have to spend actual money in compensation.
Imagine that: the club nearly cut loose one of Uganda’s brightest technicians because they bungled his paperwork, and only financial fear saved him.
Fast forward to December 9th, where Anukani scores against his own senior team in a friendly, a ‘junior’ player embarrassing the main squad. If Lugogo were interested in metaphors, this one should be framed and mounted in the CEO’s office.
It perfectly captures the irony: the talent they can’t use in the league is good enough to punch holes in their first team.
Now we are being told, with straight faces, that the club and the player’s camp are “aligning a roadmap” to get him cleared for the second round. A roadmap. For a license. At this point, the jargon is not even an attempt at professionalism; it’s a smokescreen for an internal circus.
Meanwhile, Entebbe UPPC FC and URA FC lurk like well-prepared vultures, ready to feast if KCCA finally admits the carcass is too heavy to carry.
KCCA’s handling of Anukani is no longer just mismanagement, it is reputational vandalism. It tells every rising star in Uganda that while Lugogo offers bright lights and big promises, behind the curtain lies a bureaucracy so sluggish it can derail an entire career.
If KCCA fumbles this any further, they won’t just lose Anukani. They’ll lose the credibility that once made players dream of wearing yellow.
