The Editor Zambia
Nakonde has long been a frontier town commercially vibrant, politically contested, and strategically vital.
Yet what unfolded on 19th March 2026 at Central Park was more than a routine political gathering. It was a moment of unmistakable consequence. 
In the immediate aftermath of commissioning the One-Stop Border Post, President Hakainde Hichilema stood not merely as Head of State, but as the focal point of a shifting political tide one driven less by slogans and more by lived experience.
The defection of 57 councillors across Muchinga Province and three sitting members of Parliament is not a statistic to be skimmed over; it is a structural tremor. When local leaders from Chinsali, Mpika, Mafinga, Mpongwe, Isoka, Shiwang’andu, Mfuwe, and Kanchibiya collectively abandon their political moorings, it signals something deeper than opportunism. It reflects a recalibration at the most decisive level of politics: the grassroots.
These are the individuals who interpret national policy into daily reality, who mobilise communities, and who ultimately shape electoral outcomes. When they move, the ground moves with them.
What makes this episode particularly striking is its timing and context. The commissioning of the Nakonde One-Stop Border Post, a project designed to enhance trade efficiency and regional integration, provided a tangible backdrop to the President’s message.
It allowed President Hichilema to anchor his political appeal not in abstract promises but in visible delivery. His remarks on free education, returning 2.5 million children to school, were not delivered into a vacuum. They landed before an audience increasingly persuaded by outcomes rather than allegiances.
For the Patriotic Front (PF), the implications are stark. Political parties often survive electoral defeat; what they struggle to withstand is the erosion of their grassroots machinery. Councillors, mayors, and local chairpersons are not ornamental figures they are the party’s operational spine. Their departure suggests not merely dissatisfaction but a loss of confidence in the party’s capacity to remain electorally competitive in its current form. The presence of figures such as Kanchibiya member of Parliament Sunday Chanda and his Mafinga counterpart Robert Chabinga in presenting defectors underscores a broader consolidation of influence that cannot be dismissed as incidental.
There is, of course, a temptation in politics to overstate momentum. Yet this development resists such easy exaggeration precisely because it is grounded in numbers, names, and offices. It is organised, deliberate, and, crucially, public.
Those crossing over did so not quietly, but with declarations that they had reassessed their political positions in light of what they now perceive as delivery and direction.
The President’s call “let us bring everyone home” is politically astute. It signals inclusivity while simultaneously projecting confidence.
But beneath the conciliatory tone lies a harder political truth: elections are not won in press statements or party headquarters; they are secured through networks of trust at ward level. By that measure, this moment in Nakonde may prove to be less a symbolic victory and more a decisive strategic gain.
As Zambia edges towards the 2026 elections, the question is no longer whether political loyalties are shifting, but how far and how fast. If Muchinga is any indication, the contest ahead will not be defined by historical strongholds but by present performance.
And in that arena, the balance of power appears to be moving quietly, steadily, and now, unmistakably on the ground.
