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else clamors for selfies. Wine takes his
victories where he can find them.
Many Ugandans expect that the elec-tion will be rigged, but even without in-
terference, Museveni would be tough to
beat. After helping oust the military des-
pot Idi Amin and overthrowing his suc-
cessor, Museveni came to power in 1986
promising democracy, the elimination of
corruption and an end to inequality. At
the time, he was celebrated by the West
as part of a new generation of African lead-
ers, and he still enjoys significant popu-
lar support despite his antidemocratic
tendencies. He belongs to the more mod-
ern iteration of strongman, keeping him-
self in power (and compensated well for
it) while also bringing in just enough re-
forms and investment to ensure a placid
population. Though most Ugandans agree
that it is time for a change in leadership,
the urban elite who have managed to build
a stable life despite, or even because of, the
ruling party’s deeply entrenched patron-
age networks fear disruption. “Museveni is
a dictator, and it’s not right how he is stay-
ing in power. But I would rather have Mu-
seveni and be safe and stable than risk the
chaos of Bobi Wine,” says 26-year-old in-
terior designer Patricia. (Like most Ugan-
dans fearful of speaking against the Presi-
dent, she asked to use only her first name.)
And while corruption is rampant, it has
trickled down so far that no one entity can
be punished at the polls for the country’s
dysfunction. Few politicians are trusted,
whether in government or the opposi-
tion. The cynicism is fed by a wildly par-
tisan press that only gets called to account
when it impugns government officials. As
a result, most Ugandans have given up
any expectation of good leadership, says
Simon Osborn, a consultant formerly of
the National Democratic Institute (NDI),
a Washington, D.C.–
based NGO.
Largely because of the
eforts of organizations
like the NDI, some tactics
of electoral manipulation
have ended, says Osborn,
who is now a technical
adviser to the E.U. dele-
gation in Uganda. That
doesn’t mean the vote
reflects the true will of
the people, he cautions.
“The days of ballot-box
stuffing and violence at
the polls are largely over. The alternative
is money. And so far, that seems to work.”
Ugandans call it the commercializa-
tion of politics, where voting is a trans-
action, not a choice. “Increasingly more
and more people are expecting to be paid
to go to rallies, to vote, and to vote accord-
ingly,” says Osborn. “And Bobi doesn’t
have the money to do that.”Not all of UgaNd a’ s young voters are
convinced that Wine is up to the chal-
lenge of leading the country in a new di-
rection. Samantha, a 22-year-old univer-
sity student, acknowledges that Wine is
a powerful voice for Uganda’s disadvan-
taged youth, “but not all of us are in that
category.” Just because Wine’s music was
the soundtrack to her childhood doesn’t
mean he would be a good President, she
says. “He shaved his dreadlocks, but we
still know him as the reggae musician, theweed smoker. Can we trust him?”
Wine dismisses the criticism as
government propaganda designed to dis-
credit his campaign among the nation’s
elite and conservative classes. He is fight-
ing for accountable leadership to bene-
fit all Ugandans, he says. “This is about
all of us, the young, the professionals,
the lawyers, the doctors, my auntie who
lives in the village, the young man that
drives a boda boda [motorcycle taxi]. If
we unite to save the country, it will be for
all of us.” And despite the throngs of sup-
porters who descend upon his car at in-
tersections, the proliferation of T-shirts
proclaiming In BoBI We TrusT and the
ecstatic crowds at his political rallies,
Wine wants it known that the campaign
is not about him; it is about change. “If
we make it about me, Museveni would
only have to eliminate me, imprison me,
to bring the revolution to
an end.”
Wine has every-
thing he ever dreamed
of as a kid growing up
in the slums of Kam-
pala: a brilliant wife
who is a celebrity in her
own right, four kids,
riches from his career
in music, fame, respect
and the adulation of
the entire country. Why
is he risking it all on a
quixotic campaign that
already nearly took his life? “You mean,
why don’t I just let the voiceless Ugan-
dans die, why don’t I just let them suf-
fer?” he volleys back, waving his box-
ing-gloved fist to take in the manicured
lawn, the Escalade parked behind him,
his new Nikes. “Look at the car I drive,
look at the glamour I live in. I am all this
and more because Uganda loved me. So
I can’t let Ugandans down now. I can’t
let them sufer in silence when I have
the loudest voice.” He jumps to his feet
and launches into full campaign mode.
“This is a campaign to put an end to dic-
tatorship, and we are either going to suc-
ceed or die trying.” Pacing and speech-
ifying before an audience of one, Wine
sounds like he’s issuing less a prediction
than a dare. He pulls of his gloves and
goes inside to freshen up for the battle
to come. — With reporting by madelIne
roache/london •