With a Violent Past in Mind, Ugandans Cast Ballots

This country’s terrible past and tenuous future met in a quiet grove of eucalyptus trees in this remote village Thursday.

On one side, shattered walls, roofless shops and a mass grave for thousands of massacred civilians were mute testimony to the atrocities and brutality of Uganda’s 1981-86 civil war and the murderous regimes that preceded it.

On the other, hundreds of villagers lined up patiently to cast ballots for what appeared to be Uganda’s first free and fair presidential election since the nation in east-central African gained independence from Britain in 1962.

“Look, no soldiers or guns!” said peasant farmer Edward Mwanje, 42, after voting. “The policeman doesn’t even carry a stick. No one is scared now.”

Election officials and international observers reported minor technical problems and delays but no serious violence across the country, as a heavy turnout of the nation’s 8.5 million registered voters cast ballots under rainy skies. Most of the campaign had been peaceful as well.

Yoweri Museveni, 51, is expected to win a majority and legitimize the power he seized from dictator Milton Obote a decade ago. The former Marxist turned free-marketeer has promised to continue the policies that have turned one of Africa’s most troubled nations into a showcase of economic reform and stability.

His chief opponent, veteran politician Paul Ssemogerere, 64, has the support of a broad alliance of anti-Museveni forces, including Obote’s former backers. The third candidate, Muhammad Mayanja, 45, a little-known Muslim professor, has drawn minimal apparent support.

The new president will be inaugurated Sunday unless none of the candidates gets 50% of the vote. In that case, a runoff will be held between the two top contenders.

With 1% of the vote counted late Thursday, Museveni had 77.9%, Ssemogerere 19.8% and Mayanja 2.3%, said Stephen Akabway, chairman of the Interim Electoral Commission. A reliable indication of the winner was expected by dawn today, Associated Press reported.

Not surprisingly, the 39-day campaign has revolved around Uganda’s violent history and threats that another reign of terror could yet return.

Hundreds of merchants in the capital, Kampala, emptied and shuttered their shops this week in fear of post-election chaos. Many wealthy residents, especially Asian immigrants who form the backbone of the resurgent economy, have fled to Kenya and other countries.

“Everyone is paranoid there will be big looting,” said Roni Madhvani, managing director of Nile Breweries Ltd. and a member of an Indian-born family that runs a $200-million business empire in Uganda in everything from sugar to steel.

In a meeting with reporters Wednesday, Ssemogerere appeared to fuel those fears. He warned, but gave no evidence, that Museveni planned to “embark on massive killings” after the election. He refused to appeal to his supporters to remain peaceful, saying he did not want to legitimize fraud.

“If the elections are rigged,” he said, “nobody can tell how people will react. I’m not encouraging it [violence], but I wouldn’t rule it out.”

Museveni has warned that security forces will use “draconian measures” against instigators of violence. His campaign’s scare tactics have done little to calm anxieties.

Full-page newspaper ads by Museveni’s campaign this week suggested that, if Ssemogerere wins, he will put the now-exiled Obote in his Cabinet. Another ad shows scores of skulls of Obote’s victims, gathered near this village 40 miles north of Kampala, and the grim warning, “Your vote could bring it back.”

Diplomats have another concern. The government has banned political parties from organizing or competing in the election, a regulation that is “stacking the deck” for Museveni, one senior Western diplomat complained.

“The rules are not rules that would be accepted in a Western democracy,” the envoy said. “Individuals are forced to run against the state.”

In addition, critics say Museveni has done little to groom a successor despite 10 years in office. They fear he may yet become another African “big man” who clings to power after an initial burst of political reform.

“As long as they have no successor, he’ll stay on,” warned Charles Onyango-Obbo, editor of the Monitor, the country’s most influential independent newspaper. “He likes to have power.”

Museveni and his aides justify the ban on the grounds that political parties in the past created conflict by exploiting tribal and religious differences. They have promised a referendum in four years to decide whether to end the ban.

Museveni has tried to use Western complaints to rally nationalist support. On Tuesday, at his last preelection rally, he denounced “fair-weather friends of democracy” who ignored Uganda during the despotic reigns of Obote and his predecessor, self-proclaimed President-for-Life Idi Amin.

To be sure, the Clinton administration and other Western governments have given strong support to Museveni’s regime. Foreign aid and institutions pump in $800 million a year, providing 40% of government expenditures and driving the economy. Foreign investors have followed, although investment stalled as the election neared.

A strong surge of agricultural production and a boom in coffee prices last year created Africa’s fastest-growing economy, with a 10% rise in gross domestic product. A more sustainable 7% growth rate is expected this year, according to World Bank representative Brian Falconer.

But the progress is relative. Uganda still is one of the world’s poorest countries, with an annual per capita income of only $210--considerably below income levels in 1970. About 40% of the estimated 18.5 million people are illiterate. And a raging AIDS epidemic undermines progress at all levels.

A guerrilla war dominates the far north, where the army is fighting a militant Christian cult.

But most of Uganda is at peace, and Museveni’s government is widely praised for its human rights record, from press freedom to judicial independence.

As a result, Ugandans appeared to enjoy their taste of electoral politics. Supporters crowded into trucks have flooded Kampala’s streets all week, honking horns and singing.

And on Thursday, women with nursing infants and grizzled men hobbling on canes clearly had hope as they waited to vote. In Luwero, another battle-scarred town north of Kampala, poultry farmer Charles Ssalongo sat with friends just to watch the spectacle. “This brings tears to me,” he said happily, wiping his eyes.