Prophet Elvis: Uganda's Gateway to God?

Every Tuesday, Ivan Baguma, a 26-year-old dietitian, joins hundreds of Ugandans in braving Kampala’s notorious traffic to make their way to Zoe Grounds, about 30 minutes outside the capital city, to catch a glimpse of Mbonye.

The self-described prophet attracts members of parliament and university professors, human rights lawyers and sports stars, models and professionals like Baguma to his gatherings.

“It’s come to that point where everybody would like to associate with him,” says Baguma, sporting a black tuxedo as he waits at the venue.

It’s a massive time investment — about four hours on a weeknight — to see Mbonye, who normally appears about two-and-a-half hours into the service. He arrives with a fleet of Mercedes-Benz and Range Rovers, and a police escort.

Then there is the real, tangible money cost that supporters bear in the form of donations in one of the world’s poorest countries. Donations are “not just an offering [but] an honor” and “the returns are beyond measure,” Simon Ssenyonga, a lawyer and Mbonye’s public relations chief, tells the crowd while performing the role of master of ceremonies for the evening.

“Prophets” are “not a new thing” in Uganda, Baguma tells me. Anglicans, Catholics, Muslims and Pentacostals together constitute almost all of the country’s population. But Mbonye is “really one of a kind,” he insists. Baguma first attended a 2018 service after hearing about it from a friend.

“Before, if you met a prophet, the first thing [people] would think of is a cult,” Baguma says. “I was so scared to associate.”

But Mbonye simplifies things and helps followers navigate life and its complexities, Baguma contends. “He has a lot of wisdom he shares that makes life much easier,” he says. “I literally know what to do, when to do it and how to do it. It’s not a guessing game.”

Is it all an act? Certainly not to his followers, who — among other things — point to his apparently successful predictions of global events.

Born in Bugolobi, a Kampala suburb, Mbonye claims his “prophetic journey” started in school when he correctly told his “shocked” girlfriend that she had received a letter from another boy.

He founded his congregation in 1998, the same year that, according to his own site, he had an “awe-provoking encounter with the Person of the Holy Spirit in which Elvis’ ‘old’ identity was virtually dissolved, supplanted with a new nature in Christ.”

Since then, Mbonye has made a series of claims that his followers cite as evidence of his ability to foretell the future. In 2004, for instance, he apparently predicted the date of the deadly tsunami that rocked South and Southeast Asia. More recently, he claims to have predicted the elections of former U.S. President Donald Trump’s election and former British Prime Minister Boris Johnson.

But what really stunned Baguma, he says, was Mbonye’s accurate predictions of the Oscars in 2018. “That really amazed me,” Baguma says. “That was before they even had the nominations. It was so amazing, spot on. I’m like, ‘How can this be?”

Baguma credits Mbonye for personal blessings ranging from being “headhunted” for a job as a dietician to receiving new sports gear gifted by his brother-in-law, with whom he had never spoken. “I didn’t search for the job, role or promotion, but rather they came looking for me. And I can only attribute this to the grace upon prophet Elvis Mbonye.”

What about missing children? If the police can’t help, some turn to Mbonye.

“What a blessing that this man walks amidst us,” Uganda’s Justice Minister Norbert Mao told the crowd at the Zoe Ministries’ annual celebrations held earlier this month. He told a cheering audience that Mbonye had found his missing son.

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But Mbonye has his critics too — and has faced his share of controversies. In 2019, he was interrogated by police over Facebook posts that allegedly spread misinformation regarding mass immunizations for measles, polio and rubella. The allegations were eventually dropped, according to an assistant.

Despite his public stature and influence, Mbonye is reluctant to face questions: His team refused multiple interview requests from OZY. The police also did not respond to questions on allegations the preacher has faced.

Such lack of response isn't entirely surprising. I witnessed representatives of Uganda’s army, police and traditional royal kingdoms attending his event. “There are many fans … I feel good to be in such [a] gathering,” Ugandan boxer Moses Golola told OZY.

Mbonye calls himself the “prophet to nations” and isn’t limiting his ambitions to Uganda. A Kenyan delegation and Tanzanian government representatives have attended his events. Mbonye now also has his own TV programs in Zambia and Zimbabwe.

Back at the event outside Kampala, Ssenyonga, Mbonye’s PR representative, announces: “Expect something more than the ordinary.”

He isn't exaggerating: There's a flash mob, fireworks and smoke display, the cutting of a giant cake, and a performance by visiting U.S. gospel singer Micah Stampley.

When Mbonye finally appears, donning a white tux with a red bow tie, he tells his congregation to take their ambitions “a notch higher.” He then says they're “the most devoted people" he's seen.

Not everyone in Kampala is a devotee, though.

Abdul Karim, a “bodaboda” (motorbike taxi rider) in the city, came to know about Mbonye through media coverage of followers — including a former presidential candidate — kissing his shoes.

“He's really a scammer because he collects money from his followers and buys expensive cars instead of giving it to charity,” says Karim.

Kato Mukasa, a human rights lawyer and leader of the Uganda Humanist Association, labels Mbonye a “pastorpreneur” who has “successfully blindfolded thousands.”

“[He’s] a fraudulent con artist who speaks gibberish and well-rehearsed prophecies to hoodwink a certain class of intellectuals,” Mukasa says to OZY. “He is a supporter of the ruling class and he is nothing but a politician hiding under the church to sell Jesus Christ.”

“It’s worrying when you see many intellectuals being extremely gullible and ignorant,” adds Mukasa.

Worrying? Maybe. Surprising? Not really. According to Elle Hardy, the author of “Beyond Belief: How Pentecostal Christianity Is Taking Over the World,” prosperity preachers are immensely popular in the developing world.

“Let's not forget that in many parts of the world — where people have been horribly let down by corruption, failed services and the legacy of colonialism — the church is still often the only game in town,” she says.

All of which makes one thing clear: Whether he’s the “King” or a “devil in disguise,” Mbonye’s following — and his clout in East Africa — appears poised to grow further.

Are there other “pastorpreneurs” and “prophets” lesser known globally who you think deserve the world’s attention — and scrutiny?