The recently concluded Kawempe North by-election, decisively won by National Unity Platform (NUP) candidate Nalukoola Luyimbazi, marks a seismic shift in Uganda’s political landscape. Despite the National Resistance Movement (NRM) deploying its full political machinery, including a rare appearance by President Yoweri Museveni at the final rally, the people of Kawempe North sent a clear message—they are ready for change.

This election was not just a local contest; it was a reflection of Uganda’s growing discontent with a regime that has failed to evolve. The NRM’s reliance on intimidation, coercion, and outdated narratives only highlighted its disconnect from modern Uganda.

Same Questions, Different Answers

In 1986, Museveni and his group emerged from the bush, claiming to be liberators and promising a new dawn for Uganda. Nearly four decades later, the same questions about democracy, governance, and leadership persist—but the answers have changed.

Museveni’s speech in Kawempe North, where he revisited the 1980 elections and his decision to wage a guerrilla war, fell flat. For Uganda’s younger generation, who make up over 75% of the population, these stories are irrelevant. They were not part of the so-called liberation war and did not send anyone to fight it. What they demand now is clear:

✅ Jobs and economic empowerment
✅ Quality healthcare and education
✅ Good governance and respect for human rights
✅ A peaceful transition of power

The youth are not interested in history lessons. They want solutions to the challenges they face today.

What the By-Election Means for Uganda

NUP’s victory in Kawempe North is more than just a parliamentary win—it is a symbol of defiance against a regime that has consistently failed to listen. The youth, who form the backbone of Uganda’s population, are rejecting a leadership stuck in the past.

Museveni’s presence at the final NRM rally was meant to galvanize support for his party’s candidate. Instead, it underscored the generational gap between Uganda’s leadership and its electorate. The people have made it clear:

⚠️ They don’t want bush war stories
⚠️ They don’t want to be reminded of the 1980 elections
⚠️ They want leaders who represent their struggles today

The Dark Side of the By-Election: Intimidation and Violence

The Kawempe North by-election was marred by chaos and brutality. Armed state operatives descended on polling stations, beating up media teams and anyone seen holding a phone to record, take pictures, or even make a call. This heavy-handed approach raises serious questions—what are they trying to hide, and what don’t they want the world to see?

Journalists were harassed, and voters were intimidated, yet the people of Kawempe North stood firm. Their resilience in the face of such blatant oppression is a testament to their determination for change.

Lessons for Museveni and the NRM

1️⃣ The Bush War Narrative is Outdated
Ugandans are no longer swayed by tales of past victories. The “we fought” speech is not a development plan. Museveni must accept that his past achievements do not guarantee his future relevance.

2️⃣ The Demand for a Peaceful Transition is Growing
The election results reflect a national desire for political change. If the NRM does not initiate a peaceful transition, it risks being swept away by history.

3️⃣ The Power of the Youth Vote
The youth are active, engaged, and tired of being ignored. Any party that fails to adapt to their needs and aspirations is on borrowed time.

How Can This Message Reach Museveni?

Ugandans are already speaking—through the ballot box, on social media, and in the streets. The message is clear:

The people want change.

They reject the use of state power to cling to authority.

They seek a democratic and peaceful Uganda.

Museveni and his government must listen or risk further alienation from a nation that is tired of being ignored.

Voices from the Ground: Real Reactions from Real People

Following Nalukoola’s victory, the streets of Kawempe North erupted in celebration. Here’s what voters had to say:

Sarah Nakato, 28, Market Vendor
“This is a message to Museveni—we are done with history lessons. We want change. We want jobs, not stories about the bush war.”

John Ssebaggala, 32, Boda Boda Rider
“The youth have spoken. We want leaders who represent us, not those who keep telling us about 1986. NRM had all the money, but we had the power of the ballot. We are not for sale.”

Rita Namugerwa, 24, University Student
“They beat us, they intimidated us, but we stood our ground. This victory is for every young Ugandan who is tired of being silenced.”

David Kato, 35, Blogger.
“I was beaten for trying to record what was happening. But no amount of violence can hide the truth. The world needs to see what is happening in Uganda.”

Conclusion: A National Statement

The Kawempe North by-election was not just a local contest—it was a national statement. The people of Uganda are demanding change, and they are willing to fight for it. The sooner Museveni and the NRM accept this reality, the better for Uganda’s future.

While the people of Kawempe North stood firm against militarization and intimidation, rejecting the ruling NRM’s oppressive tactics, Uganda’s Parliament was busy approving billions for questionable projects. 115 billion UGX was funneled into the controversial Atiak Sugar project, while a staggering 298 billion UGX was allocated for the long-stalled Lubowa Hospital—a project that has yet to show real progress despite years of funding.

As Ugandans celebrated a rare electoral victory against authoritarian rule, the political elite continued their unchecked wastage of public resources. The phrase “Uganda osanyuka abalogo bakuyola ebigere” (loosely translated as “While you celebrate, the witches sweep away your feet”) has never been more fitting.

The By-Election: A Test of People’s Power Against State Machinery

The Kawempe North by-election was more than just a vote—it was a battle for democracy. The ruling NRM government deployed armored vehicles, soldiers, and patrol trucks, wasting millions in taxpayer money to intimidate voters. But despite the brutality, voter suppression, and fear-mongering, the people of Kawempe North resisted and won.

The death of former MP Mohammed Segirinya, a beloved figure in the constituency, further galvanized the voters. In rejecting the NRM, they not only honored his legacy but also sent a clear message: No amount of militarization can suppress the will of an informed and determined populace.

However, while eyes were on the by-election, the real heist was happening in Parliament.

Parliament’s Silent Coup Against Taxpayers

As voters fought against state oppression, MPs quietly approved billions for dubious projects.

Atiak Sugar (115B UGX): A project that has already swallowed billions with little accountability. Who benefits?

Lubowa Hospital (298B UGX): A ghost project that remains unfinished despite massive funding.

This is the real scandal—a government looting public funds under the guise of development, while hospitals lack medicine, roads remain impassable, and Ugandans struggle to survive.

Mubajje Reinstates Himself: Religious Leadership or Political Chess?

As if the political drama wasn’t enough, Mufti Mubajje also made headlines by reinstating himself as the Mufti of Uganda’s Muslim Supreme Council. The timing couldn’t be more suspicious. Is this a strategic move to maintain power, or just another example of Uganda’s leadership crisis?

A Message to the Ugandan Government: Stop the Oppression and Respect the People’s Will

The Kawempe North by-election has exposed the regime’s failure to adapt to an evolving political landscape.

The deployment of soldiers, armored vehicles, and patrols was a wasteful show of force. Millions were squandered on intimidation tactics—money that could have been used to fix Uganda’s failing healthcare, roads, and education systems.

The NRM’s crushing defeat is not just a political loss—it is a sign that Ugandans are no longer afraid.

To the International Community: Your Silence is Complicity

While Ugandans endure militarized elections, police brutality, and corruption, the international community remains silent—even as foreign aid continues to fund this oppressive regime.

We demand action. Condemn the militarization of elections. Call out the suppression of democratic rights. Stop funding a government that prioritizes its survival over the well-being of its people.

Uganda’s Future is at Stake—And the People are Watching

The battle for democracy, transparency, and justice is far from over. But the victory in Kawempe North proves that the people’s resolve is stronger than the regime’s fear tactics.

The time for change is now.

The day began with the usual hum of an election, a tentative normalcy that quickly dissolved into chaos for the journalists of the Nation Media Group (NMG), tasked with covering the Kawempe North by-election.

Hasifah Nanvuma, her Spark TV microphone poised, sought the voices of the people in Kazo Angola. Her focus was on the silent voters, the absentees. But the story shifted violently when UPDF patrol vehicles descended, arresting political figures and anyone in their path. “They jumped out with whips,” she recounted, her voice still trembling. “They came straight at me.” Her camera, her tool of truth, was smashed. She escaped, a fugitive in her own community, discarding her press badge and jacket, a desperate act of self-preservation. “I hid in a toilet,” she whispered, the indignity of the moment etched in her memory.

David Ijjo, filming the FDC flag bearer, saw the glint of black wire cables in the hands of UPDF soldiers. A premonition of violence sent him scrambling to warn his colleagues, but it was too late. “They shouted to arrest whoever is wearing press,” he said, his voice tight. Journalists were dragged towards waiting drones, beaten with wires, their cameras ripped from their hands.

David Walugembe, lacking protective gear, sought refuge in an NTV car. From his vantage point, he witnessed the brutality unfold, masked security personnel wielding batons and guns, sparing no journalist. “No journalist was spared,” he repeated, the phrase a chilling testament.

Noeline Nabukenya, initially observing a calm scene disrupted by faulty biometric machines, saw the tide turn with the arrest of Kayemba Solo. “I was beaten up,” she said, her voice flat, “cameras damaged by a person who appeared to be a security officer in plain clothes.” Then came the coordinated attacks, journalists hijacked, their equipment destroyed, and their bodies thrown into white drones.

Vicent Lusambya, initially stationed at Homisdallen Primary School, sensed the danger as he moved towards Kawempe-Mbogo Primary School. Removing his press jacket, he sought updates, only to learn of the brutalization of his colleagues. The branded media vehicle, once a symbol of his profession, now felt like a target. He sought anonymity on a boda-boda, fleeing to the relative safety of the Serena duty station.

Barbra Anyait, witnessing the army’s sudden descent upon civilians, sought refuge in a shop, the owner offering a temporary sanctuary. “They started beating people who were standing along the roadside,” she recalled, her voice laced with fear.

Geoffrey Mutumba, deployed to Kawempe Mbogo, saw the calm shatter as armed vehicles and security personnel on motorcycles descended upon the journalists. “We had to run to our vehicles,” he said, the urgency still palpable.

Abubaker Lubowa, the photographer, painted a harrowing picture of captivity. “They made us sit down, blindfolded us, and started beating us with batons and guns,” he recounted, his voice thick with emotion. “They destroyed our cameras, stole our shoes, watches, destroyed our phones.” The drone, a metal cage of terror, became a symbol of their ordeal. “They are using acts of cowardice,” he declared, his voice a defiant whisper.

Raymond Tamale, beaten and thrown into a drone, recited the rosary, a desperate plea for survival. “They made us count from one to 13,” he said, his voice trembling, “and as you are counting, they hit a baton on your head.”

Denis Kabugo, the camera person, tried to run, but was caught, subjected to the same brutal treatment. “The beatings in the drone were too much,” he said, his voice strained. “They kept saying Tamale and my colleagues have big bodies so we can handle the pain.”

Jennifer Kabaale, arriving at Kazo Angola to rescue Nanvuma, found a scene of terror. “We realized that things had become tense and journalists were scared,” she recounted. “Then we saw men in UPDF uniform coming towards us and we ran for safety.” She was saved by a shopkeeper, a silent witness to the brutality, offering refuge from the storm.

Their stories, fragments of a single, horrifying narrative, painted a stark picture of the Kawempe North by-election – not as a democratic exercise, but as a day of fear, violence, and the silencing of truth