In one of Uganda’s fastest-growing financial institutions, let’s call it ABC Financial, a middle manager named Sharon stumbled on a buried truth. She wasn’t snooping, but she had been asked to compile data for a quarterly performance report. She opened the shared folder the director had left open, and there it was: a PowerPoint titled “Strategic Realignment, High-Cost Units.”
Slide 5 hit her like a stone. “Branch X — Underperforming. Recommend closure or integration.” That was her branch, her team, and her people. She wiped her face again to make sure she was reading right. Not once had anyone hinted, not her supervisor, not the regional manager. Not even during the CEO’s last town hall, where they had praised “our frontline heroes.”
There had been a strategy session. A decision framework. A list of “redundant functions.” And her team was on it, marked red. Yet internally, everything was green. Praise flowed like the River Nile water during the rainy season. The team was hitting KPIs, doing night outreaches. Recovering loans. Sharon had just led them to close a UGX 1.2 billion recovery deal.
But the truth had already been sealed, in silence. The memo had been sent to the CEO’s inner circle, six people, one plan, and no disclosure. Imagine you’re a taxi driver. You bought your third-party insurance from a well-known insurance company. You paid cash, got the sticker, and hit the road confident you were covered.
Then one morning, at the Wandegeya traffic checkpoint, an officer scans your sticker and tells you the policy was never activated. It expired weeks ago. You call the insurance agent. No answer. You visit the branch. They inform you that the person who handled your payment is no longer with the company, and the system has no record of your policy. You feel cheated. Exposed. Alone.
That’s what leadership information hoarding looks like. It’s not just poor communication but betrayal. This is not about secrecy, it’s about sabotage. In our consultancy, we call this the “drum with a sealed hole”. You see, in the village, when a drum was torn, elders sealed the hole using a cow skin. But the seal was not meant to be permanent. It was temporary until everyone agreed on whether to mend or retire the drum.
Hiding the hole from the drummers meant someone would start beating it, and it would burst mid-dance, embarrassing the clan. That’s what happens when you seal strategic truths behind executive privilege. You embarrass your organisation from the inside. The future-ready leader doesn’t hoard. They curate information with integrity and courage.
They say, “Here is where we are vulnerable. Let’s fix it together.” “We are reviewing your unit, not because you’re failing, but because the model must evolve.” “If this affects you, you will hear it from me, not from leaked documents.” Back at the ABC financial institution, Sharon didn’t stay quiet. She printed the slide. Took it to her team. And then emailed the CEO.
Her note was one line:
“If we are on the chopping block, at least let us sharpen the axe ourselves.” The CEO called her. He was furious. But within two months, the review team changed its tone. They repositioned the branch into a digital pilot hub. Sharon’s honesty had saved 12 jobs.
That is what transparency does: it transforms fear into fuel. If you’re a leader reading this, ask yourself: What sealed drum are you hiding? Because when it bursts, it will not be your job on the line. It will be your legacy.
I am Mr. Strategy.
