By Emmanuel Opio

Can a poor man ever triumph in a political contest? This question echoed through a recent conversation among elders in Aliakamer, sparked by the unnerving sight of a herdsman cheerfully celebrating his Local Council One candidate’s victory in the recent National Resistance Movement (NRM) Party primaries—a win that came at the cost of his prized bull, sacrificed for votes. The stark contrast of a lonely bull’s life against the backdrop of political ambition left me unsettled. 

With ethical dilemmas swirling around us, I asked: Why is it that the poor seem doomed to lose? Where are their manifestos, those powerful proclamations of vision that could sway a vote? Are citizens bartering their mandate so easily for a fleeting moment of monetary gain? And can a captivating manifesto ever compete against the wealth of a candidate's overflowing coffers?

The chorus from the elders rang deafeningly through my mind: "Good manifestos don’t even matter in our village." Their words marked a dark realization—a lamenting sentiment that money has tainted the sanctity of civic duty. I pressed further: “Once you’ve sold your votes, do you still hold the right to demand service delivery? When your vote is a transaction, what do you expect in return?” Their eyes, filled with disgust and concern, pierced through the front of indifference.

As the 2026 elections loom on the horizon, the political theater is set. Candidates will draft strategies to lure voters, but make no mistake—the primary focus of many is to “buy” those coveted listening ears. We must resist the siren song of ‘dollar’ talk, for it only serves to distract from the indispensable narratives that manifestos offer.

Manifestos are not mere documents; they are the very social contracts that bind voters to their leaders—a pact forged for the next five years, built on promises and shared visions. When we cast our votes based on thoughtful consideration of a candidate’s plan, not their bank account, we magnify our voices.

However, the scenario shifts drastically when a leader is chosen not for their vision, but merely for the ‘emiebe’—the bribes in hand. It is vital that we demand real solutions to our community’s pressing problems. The phrase ‘odaunai isio cut,’ meaning ‘pay for our votes,’ transforms into poison for those in power—a toxin that erodes the very foundation of our democracy. 

Voters, it is time to sharpen our focus! We must examine each contestant's manifesto with a discerning eye, weighing their capacity to uplift our society. The measure of a leader lies not in their fiscal prowess but in their dedication to serving the people.

Let us elevate the chorus of the honest manifesto over the clamor of corrupt transactions, for in doing so, we reclaim our collective fate and forge a path toward true representation.

The writer is the Communications Officer of Kapelebyong District

Email: opioemmanuel400@gmail.com  

Tel: 0784129412 /0756629107.

Facebook: Opio Sneijder Emmanuel

Twitter: @opioemmanuel