In Uganda, Elections Kill—and No One Says the Names

Museveni’s Victory Speech and the Bloody Reality of Uganda Elections

Last weekend, President Museveni stood at the microphone and gave his victory speech. Somewhere inside it, he bragged about killing Ugandan citizens in Butambala. Almost like it was a campaign achievement. In Uganda, elections have started to look less like voting days and more like blood rituals. The government spills blood, then wipes its hands on the bodies and says, this is your fault for dying.

Counting the Dead: The Government’s Numbers Game

In 2021, the opposition said more than 200 people were killed. The government shook its head and said, no, no—don’t exaggerate—only 54 people died in two days in Kampala. This year, the opposition says more than 10 people were murdered in one day in Butambala. The government calmly corrects them again: seven. Like they are arguing over missing goats, not human beings.

Why Does Uganda Still Hold Elections Everyone Knows Are Fake?

So here is the question that has been following me like a bad smell since the campaigns began: why does Uganda still have elections? Everyone knows the results are already written. The government knows it fakes them. The opposition knows they are fake. They all know it is theater. So why keep doing this dance if the ending is always the same—poor people dead in the streets?

The government’s reason is clear. Fake elections give fake legitimacy. But why does the opposition keep showing up? What do they gain, besides coffins for their poor and hungry supporters?

Butambala: A Forgotten Village Turned Stage for Election Violence

Butambala is small. Poor. Forgotten. And somehow, it was chosen as the stage for this year’s election violence. That part hurts personally. The violence happened at Hon. Muhammad Muwanga Kivumbi’s family home—just a mile from my childhood home in Bukkogolwa.

These are tight villages. We know each other. We greet each other by nicknames. Growing up, we called Hon. Kivumbi Maddi Mukulu—the elder Maddi—because there were two Muhammads in that house. The younger one, Maddi Mutto, was my classmate. My friend.

The Opposition’s Silence: When Numbers Replace Names

Which brings me to another ugly ritual: the dance of numbers. Ten. Seven. Two hundred. Fifty-four. The opposition should end this nonsense by naming the dead. Release the names. Give them faces. In 2021, they didn’t. This year, they probably won’t. And that silence helps the government more than any lie ever could.

Everywhere else in the world, when people die, their names are spoken. September 11 victims were named, even when the list was painfully long. When Uganda’s current government first came to power, it even had a song naming its dead heroes. After a traffic accident, the first thing released is the names of the dead. But for the opposition in Uganda, naming the dead suddenly becomes treason.

You call. You ask. And the answer is always the same: We can’t say the names.

Social Media Distraction: Tweets Over Tears

Meanwhile, Twitter is busy. Tweets about beating military surveillance. Tweets about escaping safely. Tweets trading insults with the president’s brutal son. It’s entertaining. Distracting. One of the perks of having an opposition leader who is also an entertainer. Instead of mourning stolen futures and murdered citizens, people argue about who is tougher—the opposition leader or the president’s son.

Let the Dead Have Names: Uganda’s Silent Tragedy

But before we turn the page, before the jokes, before the next distraction—can we please have the names? Just the names. Let the dead stop being numbers. Let them be people. Only then should we move on.

— Yasin Kakande

Author of The Missing Corpse