Is NRM Favouring Crossers Over Incumbent Members for a National Cause?

A conversation between two generations at the edge of Uganda’s political transition.

The Yellow Hour

It’s a Kampala evening in late October 2025. The sun melts into Nakasero’s skyline, painting the city in a strange blend of gold and uncertainty. From the veranda of a crowded café near Fairway Hotel, Andrew Muwende sits opposite a young man—hoodie, earpods, restless energy.

Youth: “Uncle Muwende, be honest—this thing of people crossing to NRM every week, isn’t it just political survival? I mean, over 1,000 NUP guys at Kololo? That’s not unity; that’s desperation.”

Muwende (chuckling): “Ah, my son, politics is never about desperation—it’s about timing. What you’re calling defection, the strategists in State House call realignment. When 1,000 NUP faithful walk into Kololo and Museveni hugs them like prodigal sons, that’s not chaos—it’s choreography. It’s a message to the country: unity is the new currency.”

He sips his espresso slowly, eyes glinting.

“Look at Nebbi—500 crossed in July. Abdu Katuntu, the opposition sage of Bugweri, suddenly smiles in State House selfies by October. And just last week, 150 from Amuru led by Lanam Kijange joined the yellow tide. These are not accidents, my boy—they’re signs of an incoming transition.”

Youth: “Transition to what? To another Museveni? Or to Muhoozi in uniform and sneakers?”

Muwende (grinning): “That’s where your generation gets it wrong. You think every succession is a coup. Sometimes, the handover isn’t rebellion—it’s continuity dressed as reform. Call it a ‘transitional republic.’ The old guard retires quietly, new faces take the microphone, and the nation exhales. That’s how history works when revolutions mature.”

 The Pyre of the Faithful

The young man frowns, stirring his coffee like it owes him answers.

Youth: “But Uncle, what about the loyalists—the ones who’ve campaigned for NRM since the bush? They’re being sidelined for these new converts.”

Muwende: “Ah, loyalty is not a lifetime warranty, my son. July’s NRM primaries weren’t elections—they were a coliseum. Gunfire, petitions, tears! Over 500 constituencies in chaos. Even ministers like Persis Namuganza cried foul. Twaha Kagabo of Bukoto South swore he’d run as an independent. And yet, Museveni blesses an 86-year-old Gen. Moses Ali for East Moyo.”

He leans closer.

“You call it unfair; I call it restructuring. Sometimes the system must burn its faithful to clear the way for fresh loyalists—defectors who bring new legitimacy for the coming era. You see chaos; I see choreography for transition.”

Youth: “But the youth are angry. They see old men clinging to power.”

Muwende: “That’s why Gen Z must step in—not with stones but with software. Have you seen their ‘Unstoppable UG’ campaign? Or the ‘Gen Z Peaceful Elections Drive’? These are not Museveni’s pawns—they’re the early engineers of a post-Museveni Uganda. If they channel their energy right, they’ll inherit the house, not burn it.”

Turncoats’ Treasure

The youth laughs dryly.

Youth: “So you’re saying defectors are saviors now?”

Muwende: “Not saviors—strategic assets. Look, in Sironko, NUP defectors now praise government programs for ‘changing lives.’ In Bugweri, Katuntu’s crossover wasn’t a footnote; it was a headline. In Nebbi, 500 joined right before primaries—clever timing, not coincidence. And remember, 191 youth defectors were welcomed by Museveni in June with a 100 million-shilling fund. That’s not charity; that’s co-option.”

Youth: “You make it sound noble. Isn’t that just buying loyalty?”

Muwende (smirking): “Politics has always been the art of buying time. Favouring defectors over incumbents does two things—it refreshes the party’s image and neutralizes rivals. The old MPs carry grudges; the new converts carry gratitude. And gratitude is easier to manage during a transition.”

He taps the table gently. “Think of it this way: the old NRM was a liberation movement; the new NRM is a survival ecosystem. You either evolve or evaporate.”

 Mao’s Tyelo Waltz

Youth: “And what about Norbert Mao? One day he’s opposition, the next he’s Museveni’s minister. Then he says something about ‘Tyelo news.’ What game is he playing?”

Muwende: “Ah, Mao—the Acholi chess player. When he returned to Pece-Laroo for a parliamentary seat this October, people thought he’d fallen. But no—he’s positioning. His Democratic Party has shelved national ambitions because he’s on a bigger mission: to orchestrate a smooth handover.”

He chuckles softly. “Mao’s not campaigning; he’s conducting. He’s part of a committee quietly stitching NRM, DP, UPC, FDC moderates, and PPP into a velvet transition. Ballots might not decide this one—dialogue will. Remember his words? ‘State House meetings, not street riots, will shape the future.’ That’s the real politics of power.”

Youth: “But his DP comrades call him a sellout.”

Muwende: “Because they mistake diplomacy for betrayal. Mao understands something your Twitter warriors don’t: transitions are not won by noise—they’re negotiated in whispers. His so-called ‘Tyelo news’ might be the opening music for a Muhoozi era—or simply the overture of a generational pact. Either way, he’s playing for legacy.”

Ripples from the Regions

The café lights flicker as night settles over Kampala. Muwende waves for another round.

Muwende: “Look across the country. Acholi stirs as Mao returns home. In the East, defectors challenge Mukula’s machine. In Arua, NRM flexes like a heavyweight, crushing opposition morale. In Lango, Museveni sells wealth creation with a smile and a sack of promises. Every region is being recalibrated.”

Youth: “So it’s all one big setup—for Muhoozi?”

Muwende: “Call it what you want—a setup, a soft landing, a generational bridge. The architects prefer ‘national cause.’ But here’s the gamble: 77 percent of Ugandans are under 30. If they buy into this vision, the NRM will regenerate. If they reject it, the whole plan collapses.”

He pauses, watching boda lights flicker through the trees. “Across Africa, young people are rewriting destiny—from Kenya to Madagascar. Uganda’s youth could either fuel a peaceful transition or ignite a revolution. The difference will be whether they see opportunity or oppression in the yellow veil.”

The Reckoning

The young man leans back, silent for a moment.

Youth: “Uncle Muwende, you make it sound like this chaos could actually lead somewhere good.”

Muwende (smiling knowingly): “History, my boy, always looks messy in real time. Every regime renewal is disguised as scandal. When a system favors defectors, maybe it’s not collapsing—it’s mutating. Perhaps these crossers are not traitors, but midwives of a new republic. Maybe, just maybe, Museveni is clearing the runway for a younger flight crew.”

Youth: “And you think Muhoozi could really fly the plane?”

Muwende: “He’s already in the cockpit. The question is whether your generation will co-pilot—or just tweet from the passenger seats.”

The youth laughs, half-convinced, half-disturbed.

Muwende: “Remember this, my son: in the NRM’s Klondike, loyalty is the pauper, and the crossover king wears yellow. But beyond the gold rush lies a chance—a fragile, fleeting one—for renewal. The question is, will Uganda seize it?”

He takes his last sip, eyes on the street. “Now go, and decide which side of history you want to hashtag.”

 

 Disclaimer:This story is a work of fiction inspired by real-life settings and experiences. Names, characters, businesses, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. The dialogues and opinions expressed in the narrative do not reflect those of any real individuals or organizations.