Africa-Press – Uganda. The ongoing discontent among aspirants in the ruling National Resistance Movement (NRM) over the party’s centralized nomination process is more than a passing grievance—it is a flashing red warning sign for the future of internal party democracy.
By requiring all district and parliamentary aspirants to travel to the party’s secretariat in Kyadondo, Kampala—first to pick and then to return nomination forms—the Electoral Commission under Tanga Odoi has created a system that is not just inefficient, but exclusionary, risky, and out of touch with the very grassroots the NRM claims to champion.
From Bundibugyo on DR Congo border to Busia in the east, from Moyo at Uganda’s northern tip to Kabong and Kisoro in the far corners of the country, aspirants are being forced to make grueling and expensive journeys to the capital, often twice. These aren’t one-off trips—they are long, repeat journeys, over bad roads, in congested traffic, draining both money and morale.
Ritah Namuwenge, the former national Emyooga coordinator now contesting for Mbale Woman MP, is one of the few brave enough to publicly name the toll.
“I had a lot of anxiety. My supporters waited from 8am till midnight just to receive me back home,” she recounted.
Her experience, frustrating as it is, still comes from a relatively accessible district. If aspirants from Mbale are suffering, what about those coming from Karenga, Yumbe, or Buvuma?
The death of Kamuli District Chairman Charles Mugude in a road crash while rushing back from Mukono to coordinate nominations is the starkest, most painful consequence yet.
It is a tragedy rooted not in fate, but in flawed policy. Mugude’s death should not be treated as an isolated incident—it should be seen as a direct indictment of a system that prioritizes bureaucratic rigidity over human lives.
NRM has always sold itself as a mass party, born in the bush, built from the bottom up, and committed to empowering the rural majority. But today, under the heavy hand of Tanga Odoi, the party seems to be sliding into a culture of centralised control and procedural arrogance. This isn’t about order. It is about power—his power.
There is a growing sense that Odoi is enthralled by the structure he’s building, one where all roads lead to Kampala, and by extension, to his desk.
Centralisation feeds his grip on the process. It hands him authority over thousands of aspirants, gives him leverage over political narratives, and places him at the centre of internal party machinations. For him, it is a moment of visibility, self-importance, and control. But for the ordinary aspirant, it is chaos.
Namisindwa County MP Jon Musila painted a telling picture: “I arrived in Kyadondo at 3pm amidst heavy traffic, only to be nominated at 11pm. Roads were closed. There was no order. It was chaotic—and costly.”
That chaos is not just a matter of inconvenience—it is a structural barrier that disadvantages aspirants from rural areas, women, youth, and persons with disabilities who may not have the same financial or physical ability to endure such grueling requirements.
Many aspirants from hard-to-reach districts say the current arrangement is effectively weeding them out—not through merit, but through exhaustion and expense. In its current form, the system favors the elite, the wealthy, and the well-connected, leaving out a wide pool of potentially transformative grassroots leaders.
It is no longer enough to be competent or popular; one must also have the means to afford the pilgrimage to the capital.
Aspirants and leaders from regions like Karamoja, West Nile, and Sebei have voiced their concerns, but these cries are being drowned out by the echo chamber of central power.
“The NRM is a mighty party, and it brought power closer to the people,” Namuwenge reminded. “Nominations should be conducted at sub-regional level—for instance, in the Bugisu subregion—so that our supporters can witness the process instead of watching us on TV.”
Her point is hard to ignore. When nominations are held miles away from the communities an aspirant seeks to represent, what message does that send? It strips the nomination process of transparency and community participation.
Supporters who form the backbone of the campaigns are rendered spectators. The party that once claimed to belong to the people now appears to be turning its back on them.
In the past, nominations were conducted at the district level—a more practical, cost-effective, and inclusive model. That system, while not perfect, recognized the realities of geography, infrastructure, and inequality.
The return to a centralised approach under Odoi’s leadership is not a modernization; it is regression wrapped in bureaucracy.
Some defenders of the system argue it brings uniformity and helps to limit local manipulation. But uniformity at the expense of inclusion is a false trade-off. What’s the point of uniformity if it erects barriers to participation and reduces the diversity of voices within the party?
Technology could have offered a better alternative. In an era of digital tools, secure online applications and hybrid models combining regional verification centres with digital processing would significantly reduce the need for long-distance travel.
Yet the Electoral Commission has made no serious move in this direction. The party seems more concerned with consolidating control than expanding access.
With over 10,000 aspirants nationwide and just one secretariat handling the entire load, the logistics are bound to collapse—and so will trust in the process. The very foundations on which NRM built its reputation—grassroots mobilisation, accessibility, and unity—are being chipped away by centralised ambition.
As the party heads toward the 2026 general elections, the leadership must ask itself an honest question: Is the current nomination model building a stronger, more representative party—or is it entrenching privilege and alienating the base?
Listening to voices like Namuwenge’s is not political dissent—it is an opportunity to course-correct. Decentralising the nomination process, whether through district-based systems or subregional hubs, is not only feasible but necessary. It is a step toward restoring the party’s legitimacy and trust at the grassroots.
Tanga Odoi may find comfort in his command of the process, but the NRM risks losing something far greater: its identity as a party of the people. If it continues down this path, it will not be external opposition that weakens the party—it will be its own members, silenced, frustrated, and left behind.
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