President Museveni has once again demonstrated that in politics, the sharpest sword is not the one swung with noise and extravagance, but the one wielded with precision and discipline. His latest recalibration of campaign strategy has left the once‑powerful Kampala honchos cursing under their breath, their big spoons confiscated, their plates empty, and their bellies shrinking. The new gospel is simple: power to the foot soldiers, sweat at the grassroots, and victory delivered on a silver platter polished by village hands.
Gone are the days when mercenary mobilizers from Munyonyo were dispatched to Rwenzururu or Bugishu, speaking languages the locals barely understood and promising heaven while delivering nothing. It was like sending a fisherman to herd cattle—confusion, mistrust, and wasted money. Museveni has now flipped the script. The new policy is clear: look for votes in the very place you vote from. Mobilize your neighbor, convince your clan, speak your language. The goat that grazes near home never gets lost, and Museveni has made sure his goats graze exactly where they belong.
Through NRM Secretary General Richard Todwong, President Yoweri Kaguta Museveni has appointed and deployed 53 eminent cadres, and tasked each with training hundreds of thousands of ruling party foot soldiers. These are not mercenaries; they are villagers, neighbors, sons and daughters of the soil, each with a mission to secure and protect victory at the grassroots. Uganda has slightly over 72,000 villages, each with a 30‑member committee of NRM leaders. That is a staggering army of local mobilizers, a force so embedded in the community that opposition candidates will find themselves campaigning against their own neighbors. It is like trying to fight a lion in its own den—futile, exhausting, and suicidal.
According to Hajji Yunus Kakande, Secretary of the President’s Office, Museveni has opted to ride back to State House using this “village‑based mobilisation strategy,” crafted by party bureaucrats at Kyaddondo. The brilliance of this approach is that it not only secures Museveni’s victory but also delivers wins for other ruling party candidates at MP and local council levels. It is a domino effect, a chain reaction of victories cascading from the village to the national stage. The party is being deliberately returned to the hands of its grassroots structures, away from the mercenaries who used to masquerade as “special mobilizers.” The message is clear: this is not a campaign of outsiders; it is a campaign of insiders, of villagers, of people who know the terrain, the language, the culture, and the voters.
To ensure the strategy is understood and embraced, Museveni has constituted a 53‑member high‑level committee to traverse the country, conducting town hall meetings, harmonizing messaging, and training local leaders. These sessions, facilitated by Todwong, are already underway, and they are not mere lectures. They are interactive, participatory, and empowering. Community leaders ask questions, give feedback, and identify influential elders and opinion leaders to be approached for mobilization errands. It is politics turned into a village council, a communal conversation, a grassroots orchestra where every instrument plays in harmony. The country has been split into zones, each handled by a sub‑regional coordinator, ensuring that no village is left behind, no vote is left unchased, no mobilizer is left unguided.
The list of cadres deployed reads like a who’s who of NRM stalwarts. From Dorothy Kisaka under ex‑VP Specioza Kazibwe in Busoga, to Dr. Rosemary Sseninde and Mike Ssebalu in Kampala, to Ruth Nankabirwa and Godfrey Kiwanda in Greater Mubende, the army of mobilizers is vast, experienced, and strategically placed. Each sub‑region has its generals, its lieutenants, its foot soldiers, all marching to the same drumbeat: deliver victory at the village level. Even the SG’s wife, Ann Ruyondo Lumumba, has been deployed in Ankole, proving that this is not just a campaign; it is a family affair, a communal mission, a national mobilization.
Leveraging his authority, Hajji Kakande has directed all RDCs, RCCs, their deputies, and assistants to cooperate fully, ensuring massive turnouts at training sessions and maximum security at venues. The opposition, once beneficiaries of free publicity through police blunders, now find themselves starved of drama. No more tear gas concerts, no more baton symphonies, no more headlines of brutality. The security forces have learned their lesson, and the opposition is left with rallies that look like weddings without music. Sympathy has dried up, publicity has evaporated, and mobilization has collapsed. Museveni has denied them oxygen, and without oxygen, their political fire cannot burn.
Exaggeration? Let us exaggerate. This strategy is so smart that even Aristotle would nod in approval. It is so seamless that silk feels rough in comparison. It is so precise that a Swiss watch looks clumsy next to it. Museveni has turned campaign cash into a scalpel, cutting through fat and reaching the muscle. Every shilling is a soldier, every coin a bullet, every note a hammer blow. The opposition is left scratching their heads, wondering how to fight a strategy that denies them both money and sympathy. It is like trying to fight a lion with a mosquito net. Museveni roars, the opposition sneezes.
Sayings? Let us sprinkle them. “You don’t send a stranger to fetch water from your well.” Museveni has taken that to heart. “The goat that grazes near home never gets lost.” That is the new campaign mantra. “A hammer knows where the nail is.” Museveni’s hammer has found the nail, and the nail is State House. The Kampala honchos are left with empty plates, their big spoons confiscated, their bellies rumbling. The opposition is left with empty rallies, their sympathy dried up, their publicity gone. The President, meanwhile, walks back to State House on a silver platter, polished by strategy, carried by precision, served by common sense.
This is not just a campaign strategy; it is a political revolution. Museveni has localized the campaign, denied the opposition their drama, saved money, and ensured victory. It is the smartest intervention, the seamless path back to State House. The Kampala honchos can sweat, grass, and yawn. The opposition can cry, whisper, and fade. The President has found his hammer, struck his nail, and secured his silver platter. And when the dust settles, when the votes are counted, when the cheers rise, the story will be told: Museveni recalibrated, opponents evaporated, State House celebrated.
The Writer is The Assistant Resident City Commissioner for Nyendo Mukungwe
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