A senior Ugandan MP has urged that ordinary citizens take the lead in the fight against drug theft, saying the problem cannot be solved by government agencies alone.
Dr Charles Ayume, who chairs parliament’s Health Committee, said medicine pilferage remains a serious threat to public health despite interventions such as drug embossing, digital tracking, and distribution audits by the Ministry of Health and the National Medical Stores.
Speaking in an interview, the Koboko Municipality legislator argued that the most effective solution lies with communities themselves.
“It starts with the person in the village. It is not President Museveni’s affair or the Minister of Health,” he said.

“Members of the community are the best whistleblowers to tell us where the theft is happening.”
Dr Ayume urged local leaders, village health teams, religious leaders and even boda boda riders to spearhead public sensitisation campaigns.

He said awareness efforts should focus on helping citizens recognise government medicines – which are marked with “UG” and labelled “Not for Sale” – and encouraging them to report misuse.
He suggested radio talk shows, school outreach programmes and village meetings as effective ways to spread the message.
“This cannot be a top-down enforcement approach,” he said. “It must be a people-led movement. Communities must understand that stolen medicine is stolen life.”

Author: George Asiimwe, veteran journalist

In Uganda’s fight against drug theft from public health facilities, journalists have a vital role to play.
Through informed reporting, field investigations, and human-centered storytelling, they can shine a light on the hidden consequences of medicine pilferage—and give voice to the communities affected.
Government medicines supplied by the National Medical Stores (NMS) are delivered regularly and clearly labeled “Government of Uganda – Not for Sale.”
Yet in many areas, patients report paying for drugs that should be free, or being turned away due to stockouts.
These are not just bureaucratic failures—they are stories that demand coverage.
From the Ground Up
Reporters embedded in districts and sub-counties are well placed to uncover discrepancies. They can:
● Interview patients turned away due to stockouts.
● Verify delivery records with facility in-charges and DHOs.
● Visit private pharmacies selling government-labeled drugs.
● Follow up on whistleblower leads from health workers or Village Health Teams.
Such stories not only inform the public, but also prompt action from authorities, civil society, and policymakers.
Tell the Human Side
Beyond the data, journalists should help the public understand what medicine theft really means—the mother who delivers without gloves, the child whose malaria worsens because of missing Coartem, or the HIV patient missing doses.
In doing so, journalists humanize the issue and build public pressure for reform.

Responsibility with Accuracy

With influence comes responsibility. Health-related stories must be verified, ethical, and sensitive. Misreporting or sensationalism could create fear or mistrust in the system.
Still, when done right, journalism remains one of Uganda’s most powerful tools in protecting government medicines and safeguarding public health.

Every year, thousands of women across Uganda walk into government hospitals to give birth.

But despite National Medical Stores’ (NMS) guarantee that Mama Kits are free of charge, disturbing reports continue to emerge: mothers being asked to pay for gloves, cotton wool, razor blades, or soap.

This is more than just a public service issue—it is a human rights concern. The government provides Mama Kits for a reason: to save lives, reduce maternal and neonatal deaths, and increase safe deliveries in health facilities.

A Mama Kit, in its basic form, contains gauze, cotton wool, five pairs of surgical gloves, a razor blade, umbilical tape, a plastic sheet (kavera), and bathing soap.

These are simple items, but without them, a safe and sterile delivery can be difficult or impossible. In remote health centers, the presence—or absence—of this kit can mean the difference between life and death.

So why are some mothers still being charged?

The problem lies in leakage and poor supervision. Despite the kits being supplied in full, the items are hoarded or diverted—either for resale or as a means to solicit bribes.

“We are told there’s a shortage and we must buy our own gloves or soap,” said Justine Nankya, a mother in Mukono. “But later you hear someone sold a kit at a drug shop in town.”

This practice undermines public trust and deters women from delivering in health centers.

According to the Uganda Demographic Health Survey (UDHS), while 74% of women now deliver in facilities, that number could be even higher if informal charges were eliminated.

NMS has emphasized that Mama Kits are free, not optional.

“They are not for sale,” said Sheila Nduhukire, the agency’s public relations officer.

But enforcement is weak. Communities often don’t know how or where to report such abuse. Local leaders—LCs, RDCs, DHOs—must rise to the challenge.

Clear guidelines on patient rights should be displayed at every maternity ward. Hotlines must be active. Whistleblowers protected.

The author is a medic in Nakapiripirit