Shift Media News 
ENTEBBE, Uganda—June 2025 [SHIFTMEDIA] When Ibrahim Mujjere started his day, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The 34-year-old Uber driver had made his early morning rounds, picking up and dropping off passengers through Kampala’s bustling streets. As a licensed transport operator, Ibrahim relied heavily on his car—not just for income but for survival.
But on a rainy morning in late March, his livelihood was thrown into disarray by something as mundane—yet now mysteriously painful—as a number plate.
“I had just dropped a client near Kololo when the heavens opened up,” says Ibrahim as he parks his Toyota Wish by the roadside in Kitintale. “It poured heavily, and the roads flooded. I navigated through the water and finished my trip.”
What he didn’t know was that the storm didn’t just wash Kampala’s streets; it also washed away his front number plate.
“Where’s Your Plate?”
Later that afternoon, Ibrahim received another request: a client heading to Entebbe International Airport. With time ticking and the roads still wet, he sped off via the Entebbe Expressway. Somewhere near Kajjansi, his passenger leaned forward and asked a seemingly harmless question: “How come your car has no front number plate?”
“I thought it was a joke,” Ibrahim recalls. “But when we reached the toll gate, the machine failed to read my plate. That’s when I got out to check—my front number plate was gone.”
Shock. Confusion. Panic. And then, a sinking realization: this wasn’t just an aesthetic issue. It was the start of an administrative nightmare.
He dropped the client at the airport and drove straight back to Kampala. At Kitintale Police Station, he reported the case, documented under reference SD REF:55/26/3/2025.
“The officers told me to place an ad in the newspaper and start the process of applying for a new one,” he explains. The next day, he ran the ad in New Vision and gathered all necessary documentation. That’s when the real ordeal began.
The GPS That Doesn’t Track
The Ugandan government, through the Ministry of Works and Transport, partnered with Russian firm Integrated Transport Monitoring System (ITMS) to roll out digital number plates. These plates, we were told, would be revolutionary: GPS-enabled, trackable, and theft-proof.
But when Ibrahim inquired if his lost plate could be tracked—given that it supposedly contained a GPS chip—the answer was a cold, bureaucratic shrug.
“The officer just said, ‘That’s for the ministry and the Russians to deal with. We don’t have access to the tracker.’ Even the Ministry of Works couldn’t help me,” he laments.
His frustration mirrors that of thousands of Ugandans who feel cheated by a system that promised innovation but delivered confusion.
“The idea was that if your car or number plate is stolen, the GPS can track it. So what happened to that?” asks Ibrahim. “Why couldn’t they trace my missing plate?”
We reached out to both ITMS and the Ministry of Works and Transport. ITMS’ Communications Head, Galma Svalova, declined to comment. The ministry did not respond to multiple inquiries.
A Controversial Deal
The digital number plate project, worth billions of shillings, was awarded to ITMS under a 10-year deal. However, Parliament has questioned the transparency of the tender process and the firm’s capacity to deliver.
As of June 2025, despite over 1.8 million registered vehicles in Uganda, only about 3,800 government vehicles have been fitted with digital plates. Sources within the ministry say less than 25,000 plates have been issued to private vehicles—far below projected targets.
Moreover, investigations at major police stations, including CPS Kampala, Kawempe, and Old Kampala, revealed dozens of theft cases involving digital plates. None have been traced or recovered—despite the supposed GPS technology embedded in them.
“This whole thing is just a money-making venture disguised as national security,” said one source in Parliament, who asked to remain anonymous. “We’ve paid UGX 714,000 for a pair of plates that can’t even be replaced efficiently or tracked when lost.”
More Than Just One Man’s Pain
Ibrahim’s case is just the tip of the iceberg. Car importers have also raised alarm, citing long delays in getting digital plates cleared for their vehicles. Many have been forced to pay millions in warehousing penalties and demurrage due to the ministry and ITMS’s inefficiency.
“There are cars that have spent over two months in bonded warehouses waiting for plates,” said Charles Owor, a car importer in Nakawa. “This delay is not only causing losses to businesses, but the public is also being punished unfairly.”
Truck drivers at border points like Malaba and Mutukula are also suffering delays, even though ITMS promised to open installation centers there. As of this report, those centers remain unopened.
“We were told this would streamline everything, but it has only made life harder,” added Owor.
Daily Humiliation
For Ibrahim, the nightmare is far from over. Despite having his police report and a newspaper advertisement as proof of loss, he is constantly harassed by traffic police.
“Almost daily, I get stopped. Some officers understand, but most demand a bribe to let me go,” he says. “Sometimes I have passengers in the car. It’s embarrassing.”
His airport contract is also on the verge of collapse. “I use the expressway regularly. But the payment system scans the front plate, which I no longer have. So now I have to explain to the toll attendants every single time, and it’s exhausting.”
Ibrahim’s story underlines the broader crisis at play: a public transportation sector gasping under the weight of poor planning and questionable procurement.
“This thing is broken,” he concludes. “And no one wants to admit it.”
Public Uproar and Silent Officials
Recently, ITMS faced criticism for installing high-tech speed cameras that fined drivers for alleged speeding. While this technology works flawlessly when it comes to penalizing citizens, it fails when citizens ask for accountability.
“Nikita Noveselov of ITMS told the press they’ve issued 25,000 plates,” notes a legal analyst who tracks transport policies. “But why then is replacement still a nightmare? Why can’t the GPS tracker help when plates go missing? Where’s the transparency?”
Civil society organizations have started calling for a full audit of the digital plate project. “Ugandans deserve answers,” says Winnie Namubiru of the African Centre for Governance and Accountability. “We need to know why we paid almost double for plates that cannot serve their basic function.”
The Pain Behind the Promise
The heart of this story isn’t about technology—it’s about trust. When the government rolled out the digital plates, it painted a vision of safety, modernity, and efficiency. But as weeks turn into months, and public frustration grows, that vision is rapidly collapsing.
People like Ibrahim Mujjero are left to pick up the pieces—literally. “The Ministry said this would protect us,” he says, shaking his head. “But instead, we are more vulnerable than ever. I don’t feel safe. I feel conned.”
His plea, echoing thousands across Uganda, is simple: “Let the truth be told. If these digital plates can’t be tracked, then stop lying to us.”
As this story went to press, sources in Parliament confirmed that a motion is being prepared to investigate the ITMS deal.
