In Uganda's vibrant Pentecostal and charismatic churches, where congregations often swell with worshippers from diverse ethnic backgrounds, a quiet figure frequently stands beside the preacher. That is the interpreter.
The role of the interpreter draws little attention but the task shapes worship. A sermon delivered in one language reaches only part of the congregation. Interpretation opens access for all listeners.
Uganda counts more than 40 indigenous languages. English dominates schools, government and offices. Luganda anchors central Uganda, including Kampala. Runyankole leads in the southwest. Swahili links East Africa through trade, media, and migration. Churches reflect this diversity every Sunday.
In urban churches, preachers might deliver in English or Luganda, while attendees speak Runyankole, Swahili, or others. Pentecostal churches, booming since the 1980s amid social upheaval, attract migrants seeking hope. Multilingual services have become essential.
Yet interpretation here is mostly voluntary and untrained. Interpreters face fast-paced preaching, complex biblical terms, and real-time pressure. Studies from neighbouring Kenya and Tanzania highlight similar challenges: fatigue, vocabulary gaps, and lack of pauses from preachers.
Joan Kisakye embodies this vital, often overlooked role. A teacher from Bulenga-Nankuwadde in Wakiso district, she has become a trusted interpreter in many born-again churches.
She translates sermons across multiple languages, Luganda to English, English to Luganda, Runyankole to English and Luganda, and Swahili to both English and Luganda, ensuring that faith reaches everyone, regardless of their mother tongue.
“I drew inspiration from interpreters I watched on television,” she said. “I noticed how they stood beside preachers and made sermons accessible to everyone. Over time, a strong desire grew within me to serve in the same way, to help people understand the message in a language they follow with ease.”
Her journey started quietly in 2017 when she attended a youth camp in Nyanama. One afternoon, a youth pastor at the pulpit asked for help with interpretation. Kisakye stepped forward, uncertain and unprepared.
Midway through the lunch hour service, the church’s senior pastor, Peter Mawejje, arrived and listened closely. On the pulpit stood a nervous novice. Her delivery faltered. Her pauses felt heavy.
Yet Mawejje paid attention. An African proverb says a seasoned eye sees beyond surface failure. He noticed effort, courage, and intent. Others heard hesitation. He saw promise in a young woman finding her voice under pressure.
The following Sunday, with the youth camp still underway, the pastor acted. He handed her the microphone and asked her to interpret again this time for the senior pastor.
“It was my first time before such a crowd of people of all ages; the young, the youth, the elders,” she said. “I lacked confidence. For sure I lacked confidence”
“That church was not even my home church,” Kisakye said. “I wondered why they trusted me with the microphone. I felt fear, but I also felt seen.”
She remembers another moment from that day. The pastor’s wife, Jackline Mawejje, stepped forward and prayer for her with encouraging word.
“She prayed for me and blessed me. I felt strength settle in me. From then on, I knew this work mattered,” Kisakye added. She described the prayer in spiritual terms. A turning point. A crossing into service. Like a Jordan moment marked by baptism, she said, the blessing affirmed her path and sealed her commitment to interpretation as ministry.
Later, other mentors recognized her potential. Her spiritual father, Pastor Joshua Mukisa, lead pastor at Eden Revival Church in Nankuwadde, began to trust her gift.
Soon, Kisakye was interpreting every Sunday, in and out, at Eden Revival Church. Her confidence grew with each sermon, and her skill became a steady presence for the congregation.
In 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic forced churches to close, shifting services to radio, Facebook, WhatsApp, and other online platforms. For Kisakye, this opened a new opportunity, allowing her interpretation to reach beyond the physical church walls she had attended on Sundays.
“I started trending,” Kisakye said, borrowing the town slang. “Invitations began pouring in for crusades, conferences, and radio shows. People saw my potential and started contacting either my pastor or me directly to interpret for their events.”
Today, she interprets for Apostle Douglas Majwega on Tiger FM in Nabweru every Friday , besides serving her church. Church work is unpaid volunteer service. External ‘gigs’ in crusades, conferences, and radio shows offer facilitation .
“If I get a gig, I receive facilitation,” she explained. “at my home church I do not get paid and am okay with it”
Kisakye studies the Bible deeply. “When a pastor is preaching, I follow closely,” she said. “Even the scripture quotations.” Yet, not every sermon is easy. “Some fast-paced preachers can be exhausting,” she admitted, “but I push through to ensure the message reaches everyone.”
Interpreters face challenges beyond the job itself. Some pastors and preachers belittle them. Kisakye speaks openly about it, suggesting that her body size or quiet nature may prompt judgment.
She recalled a moment from a 2023 crusade. “A visiting pastor from Nairobi asked me, ‘Can you manage?’” she said. “He looked at me as if I were just a village girl.”
Respect matters, she explained. “When a pastor belittles you, it kills confidence and you might fail to connect with them.”
Mistakes happen in live interpretation. There is no pause button, no chance for edits. Every word counts, and a misstep can confuse the congregation. Yet Kisakye views her work through a spiritual lens.
“There is something deeply spiritual in this work,” she said. “The Holy Spirit guides you, gives you clarity in the moment.” Experience sharpens intuition. Sometimes, she can anticipate the preacher’s words before they are spoken.
“At times, I even know what the pastor will say next,” she said. “It is as if the message flows through me, and I become part of delivering it, not just translating words.”
Kisakye acknowledges that mistakes happen. Sometimes, an interpreter may miss the mark and say something the speaker did not intend.
“Those moments feel heavy,” she said. “Some pastors speak so fast that before I can process the right word, they have moved on. I might end up saying a word that is close, but not exactly what they meant.”
Reactions vary. “Some pastors understand and slow down. Others can be harsh; they glare, criticize, or even blame you right there on the stage.” She takes it in stride, knowing live interpretation leaves little room for perfection.
In the end, interpreters like Kisakye often remain in the background, unnoticed by many, yet their role is crucial. They carry the preacher’s words across languages, ensuring that every worshipper, regardless of tongue, receives the full message. Their work transforms sermons into a shared experience, breaking barriers that words alone cannot overcome.
In Uganda’s multilingual landscape, where over 40 languages coexist alongside English and Swahili, interpreters quietly weave unity among congregations. Through their voices, diverse communities worship together, pray together, and respond to the gospel together. Kisakye’s dedication illustrates how a single interpreter can shape the spiritual connection of thousands, making faith accessible and inclusive for all.
