8 March 2006

Shyaka did not like my last posting. After several creative differences that were building up to the ultimate event, he fired me on Sunday.

But my guys came through. Apparently everyone in the newsroom was unhappy – the office manager, the designers, all the reporters – and they said they wanted me back. So they forced him to talk to me, and after both of us made concessions, I will be back at Focus tomorrow. Shyaka apparently told the staff I would be there on Friday, but we had agreed on Thursday and that’s when I’m heading there. I love my reporters.

Anyway, that’s enough of that. No need to get myself into more trouble.

It’s time for me to talk more about Uganda.

I already wrote about Kampala, and while I did enjoy the city, I was working. And was there a lot of work to do. I got three stories out of it – two for CNS and one for DaMN (I’ll talk about that later) and at least two photos sold – and met pretty much the entire Nairobi press corps. Kenya’s capital is where most East Africa reporters live. It was pretty much an African journalism convention.

Today, I will give you the basics of the Uganda elections. President Yoweri Museveni came to power in 1986 following a five year guerilla war. For 10 years, he did not hold elections, instead ruling by what he called the Movement system, which I don’t necessarily understand. In 1996, after pressure from donor countries – Uganda gets around 50 percent of its operating budget from foreign countries, especially Britain and Ireland – Museveni instituted what he called “one-party democracy.” Candidates from within the National Resistance Movement (if you’re in government, what exactly are you resisting?) competed with each other for parliamentary seats. Museveni won election handily. They had similar elections in 2001, and Museveni won again.

This is where Dr. Kizza Besigye enters the scene, and Ugandan politics turns into high school drama. Besigye was Museveni’s personal physician during the 1981-1986 bush war that brought the NRM into power. Besigye’s wife, Winnie, was far more. The rumor is that Winnie, who was a guerilla fighter, was Museveni’s mistress during the war and even moved into State House in Kampala after victory. The rumor continues that security agents basically had to pull Winnie out of State House when Museveni’s wife Janet came in from Nairobi. Whatever the truth, the two couples loathe each other.

Meanwhile, Besigye was serving several high-level positions throughout the government until he had had enough. He and Winnie married during this period. Besigye was Museveni’s opponent in 2001, and lost badly. Soon after, he fled to South Africa after claiming that he was threatened by agents of the NRM. Again, rumor has it he fled on a Rwandan passport. The Ugandan and Rwandan governments don’t like each other and their forces have fought in the Democratic Republic of Congo, with the Rwandans winning handily each time.

When Uganda instituted multi-party democracy last year, again under international pressure, Besigye’s supporters started up the Forum for Democratic Change. Museveni also had the constitution changed so he could run for a third term. Besigye returned to Kampala in October – the normally 45-minute drive from Entebbe airport to central Kampala took almost an entire day due to his supporters dancing in the highways. Soon after his arrival, Besigye was arrested on charges of treason, associating with criminals and rape and had trials in both civilian and military courts. The government claimed that Besigye was supporting rebel movements acting against the government and the rape charge is fairly self-explanatory. Besigye was acquitted of rape yesterday, and the Ugandan civilian court system tossed out the treason charges, saying that the military courts had no jurisdiction because Besigye had not been a member of the military since 1999.

But Besigye spent some weeks in jail, and spent much of his campaign shuttling from court to campaign stop. The government did all it could to intimidate Besigye and his supporters, going so far as to surround a court house with a shadowy paramilitary group called the Black Mambas – elite commandos from the army and police who don’t wear uniforms.

The campaign itself was relatively peaceful until the last few weeks. With a little over a week to go, a reserve soldier shot and killed at least three FDC supporters. And a military convoy drove through a Besigye rally/convoy, running over four people, who survived, and allegedly hitting Besigye’s car. I was in that convoy and saw the army pass. They had their weapons ready to go, which you can imagine puts a damper on a celebration. But I would be willing to believe that they did not intend to hit the four people as much as I am willing to believe they were aiming. The crowds were mobbing the streets and it was impossible to drive. People were hanging off the back of the bus, and there were points where we literally could not move. “I know that I should feel like I am witnessing history as it happens,” Rob, an English freelancer who was in the mini-bus with a few other guys and me, said. “But all I want right now is for these people to get out of the way so we can get on with it.”

There were a few more teargas incidents throughout the campaign – I missed them all – but no other serious violence.

The violence people feared was going to happen after the election.

Election day itself was fairly boring, as voting days usually are. Not much happened, although there were a few incidents around the country of violence and intimidation. The biggest problems involved names not being on the voter roles. People were afraid that when Museveni won – and there was never really a question of whether he would. We only questioned how much vote rigging he would need – Besigye’s supporters would take to the streets. When the supporters took to the streets, then the soldiers would turn their guns on them. One journalist I knew was even guessing a death toll – he figured 16. I refused to play that game.

Anyway, when the results were announced there was basically no violence in the streets. A few Besigye supporters were teargassed by riot police, but they earned it. They were throwing rocks at cars along one of Kampala’s main roads in front of FDC headquarters. I missed the gassing, but there was still a whiff of it in the air when some colleagues and I arrived. Yucky.

Now Besigye and the FDC are challenging the results in court. They did this last time, and the courts ruled there was fraud but not enough to turn the election. So we’ll see what happens.

A few of the FDC supporters – young men who were probably drunk – asked me to get them machine guns from the U.S., but I told them I didn’t know who to contact about that. No one thinks anyone will go to the bush to fight for Besigye, and Besigye himself said he would not be going to the bush. But one never knows in this part of the world.

The saddest part of all this is that Besigye, from everyone I spoke to, was not much different than Museveni. Same imperiousness, probably similar corrupt people around him. The most qualified person to run the country was probably Winnie, everyone told me. The legal problems made Besigye look like Vaclav Havel or Lech Walesa. He’s not. He was just an unhappy guy who wanted his piece of the pie, in my view. Even most of his supporters said they supported Besigye only because they wanted change. I saw one guy running around screaming “Give me my change!” and was a little confused. I went into my pocket until I remembered I hadn’t sold him anything.

People don’t go out into the street to die for “At least he’s not the other guy.” That was the theory I put forward when the other journalist was guessing body counts. Everyone in the car laughed, but it looks like I was right.

Anyway, this is long enough. Now that you’ve got the background, I’ll show you the glamorous life of a foreign correspondent next time. Stay tuned for long bus rides at 4 a.m. and watching speed skating in a tropical country.