As Kigombya North celebrated Mazinga’s victory, Kirarire’s defeat became village gossip, a funny tale of one man outsmarting another, showing that in politics, promises and cash can’t beat a smart campaign and effort on a rainy day.
On May 6, 2025, Kigombya North, a quiet village bordering Mukono Municipality and Nama Sub-County, became a political hotspot. The National Resistance Movement (NRM) village committee elections swept across Uganda, with President Museveni voting in Rwakitura’s “baraza.” In Kigombya North, though, the talk was all about a local clash that gripped the village.
The rivals were Ssalongo Mazinga and Shadrach Kirarire, longtime friends now divided by ambition. Both wanted the NRM village chairman’s seat, and neither would back down. It was a contest to prove who truly led Kigombya.
Rain drenched election day, challenging voters’ resolve. Mazinga didn’t hesitate.
Smartphone in hand, he sent texts and voice notes through WhatsApp groups, rushing through muddy paths to rally youths, elders, men, and women. “Today, we win!” he declared in a shared clip, his voice cutting through the downpour. His supporters, soaked but committed, lined up behind him, firm as the muddy ground.
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Kirarire showed up confident, handing out coins and promises. But his campaign hit trouble when his financiers vanished. As rain fell, his optimism waned, though he trudged to the polling ground, banking on his charm.
The village square, usually calm, turned tense. Voters lined up behind their candidate, choices plain for all to see. Mazinga’s line was long and lively, buzzing with talk. Kirarire’s was shorter, looking defeated in the rain. A supporter waving a stick caused a brief scuffle, but police restored order. The real battle was in the votes.
When the rain stopped, the result was stark: Mazinga had crushed Kirarire.
If Kirarire had any political hopes, they were shattered, leaving him isolated. Not even making Kigombya’s team of 30 leaders, he was done. Mazinga’s massive win sparked celebrations, with supporters dancing in the mud. “Kigombya North has its leader!” Mazinga shouted, lifted by his cheering crowd.
Kirarire, his face fallen, was devastated. “They betrayed me!” he muttered, blaming his absent financiers and voters who took his money but didn’t vote for him. In a sad final act, he shuffled to a local bar, his last coins jingling. There, he drank, grumbling about the villagers who took his cash but backed Mazinga.
As Kigombya North celebrated Mazinga’s victory, Kirarire’s defeat became village gossip, a funny tale of one man outsmarting another, showing that in politics, promises and cash can’t beat a smart campaign and effort on a rainy day.
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