I did not know what to expect from ‘Through the Lens’, NMG’s photo exhibition of Uganda’s elections. Having been intimately involved in the last five elections, I did not expect to be surprised, yet I was, in unexpected ways.
First, the format. The world today is, at present, observed in a stream of high-definition, full-colour video. Everything is live, and video-streaming or serving platforms like TikTok enjoy the commanding heights of the attention economy.
This is supposed to make photography, by comparison, staid, stable and even old school. But it is this attribute that makes photography and the photo moments it births memorable. Take the photo of President Museveni and Dr Kizza Besigye shaking hands at the Namugongo Martyrs Shrine during Pope Francis’ papal visit in November 2015. You can watch a video reel of the event as many times as possible, but only a photograph captures the moment of brief respite between two great political rivals, only weeks before what was to be the fourth and possibly last electoral contest between the two men.
Or consider the photo of President Museveni lying face down, supported by his arms, on the campaign trail in November 2021. Fountains, whether of the honourable or decorative type, tend to be upright, so, at first glance, it looks as if the photo has been installed at the wrong angle. It soon becomes clear to the viewer that the President was, in fact, doing push-ups.
What looks like merely the physical is acutely political. Facing a youthful rival in Robert ‘Bobi Wine’ Kyagulanyi, the push ups were to show voters that the old workhorse still had the horsepower to carry the burden of leadership.
Few candidates beat the Old Man at political symbolism. In one photo, from 2006, he is the passenger on a boda boda, a gimmick recycled from 2001 when he arrived at Kololo on the back of a boda. This was ostensibly to beat the traffic but was, in fact, a well-planned and clever political move.
Missing from the exhibition, and hopefully to be included at some point, are at least four other symbolic photos. Two of President Museveni are of him carrying a grinding stone (lubengo) and being carried by an old grandmother on her lap, both from the 1996 race, if memory doesn’t fail me.
Another is of Dr Besigye with a hammer, from 2001 when he was baptised “Ssenyondo”, or the one who could remove the cotter pin, Museveni. Juxtaposed with another infamous photo of Gilbert Arinaitwe smashing the window of Besigye’s car with his pistol grip, the images, and many more in between, are a reminder of just how vicious and violent our elections have tended to be.
The fourth photo is of a young man doing a defiant split in the middle of a city road that is deserted, save for the clouds of teargas billowing around him, and other protestors in the background contesting the political space.
This young, rebellious and unaccountable spirit, of which more will be said in future, has become the febrile undercurrent of our politics and perhaps national psyche collectively.
If each photo is a piece of the mosaic, the picture that emerges gives a warning and a reminder. The missing pictures from 1962 to 1980 stand as a stark reminder that power in the formative years of our country was exchanged and managed through military might and means.
Also missing in this exhibition is a photograph of a Ugandan president handing over power peacefully to another elected leader. It is missing because it does not exist. And this is the warning that emerges from the exhibition.
Elections are a tool through which citizens choose their leaders. It presupposes change as well as continuity if incumbents are still popular. Why, then, does it feel, at our seventh time of trying, that Uganda’s inevitable leadership transition will not happen through an electoral process?
This fear is not captured in any one photograph in the exhibition. It is captured in absence, and in the things that are felt but unseen, incapable of being captured by even the best photographers because they do not as yet exist. It is a haunting take-out from all the hope and possibilities frozen in time, space, and photo frames.