Screenshot of the NTV Uganda story on the tenacious Night Ampurire.

It took the generous reaction of a powerful multinational to the dramatic footage of a most powerless woman to remind us of the potency of a good media story.

The NTV Uganda story, produced by Mr Ivan Kamana Walunyolo, featured Night Ampurire, a fresh fruit seller. For years, she persistently drove a dilapidated pickup truck, barely held together by ropes, in order to provide for her five children. Ampurire, whose name means “He has heard me”, told the journalist that all she needed was a better car to sell her fruits.

Little did she know, or anyone else for that matter, that someone at the telecom company MTN Uganda watched the story and wanted to help.

MTN quickly replaced Ampurire’s old, rickety pickup truck with a much newer, fully fueled vehicle. Media clips captured Ampurire crying tears of joy and dancing with passionate abandon. Shortly after, Vivo Energy (Shell Uganda) offered to fuel her new vehicle for a year, and Britam Uganda gave her comprehensive vehicle insurance for a year.

In a follow-up story, Night Ampurire is shown expressing gratitude to the journalist who reported on her situation. She attributes her improved circumstances to Walunyolo, stating that if he had not shared her story, no one would have been aware of her situation.

On his social media pages, Walunyolo mentioned that he was humbled by the unexpected impact his story had on Night Ampurire. Who wouldn’t be?

From my perspective, this story is a reminder that maybe, just maybe, the traditional media is not ‘out’, as many would have us believe. Despite its challenges, on a good day, the media can still wield considerable power. This was evident when Vivo Energy’s Joanita Mukasa announced Shell’s fuel offer to Ampurire. Using Walunyolo as an example, Mukasa urged the media to prioritise covering stories that “matter to people”. The message conveyed was that by reporting on important stories with expertise, the media can create a significant impact.

To its credit, Ugandan media often does its best report on important issues. However, great stories do not necessarily sell copies or drive viewership. For example, a page featuring partially clothed individuals is more likely to receive more likes and shares than a story on women experiencing sexual violence.  There are many reasons for this paradox, including how the stories are sourced, presented, timed, framed or positioned.

So, what does the story of Night Ampurire tell us about how our media works or does not today?

First, a great human interest story has enduring appeal, thanks in part to its relatability, regardless of the platform. Walunyolo did a good job of showing, not just telling, Ampurire’s story, allowing us to experience her struggles. If that story didn’t stir something inside you, you’d have to doubt your normality.

Another perspective is that for every Night Ampurire, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of other people like her who defy extreme odds to stay alive and pursue ‘impossible’ dreams. Not all of them are fortunate enough to be featured on national television. However, at a micro level, media is effective when powerful stories are discovered and presented in impactful ways. Looking at it this way, the media can help generate collective empathy, which often leads to personal donations and can be embraced by companies interested in corporate social responsibility.

The challenge, of course, is that “sounding the alarm” can easily distract from the media’s more fundamental roles.

In a democracy, the media is expected to hold power to account, be the voice of the voiceless/marginalised, reflect the realities of society, and expand access to a meaningful public debate – all while informing, educating, and entertaining.

It is at the macro level where the media, as an essential institution of a democratic society, is supposed to be most influential.

From this perspective, Night Ampurire is a symptom of a bigger problem. The same applies to the Kiteezi ‘volcanic eruption’ and the largely ignored floods in and around Ntoroko. The media faces a big challenge: does it have the determination and resources to keep asking big questions and disturb the peace of those in power? This may sound radical, but if people die in Kiteezi and officials whose negligence led to the tragedy can’t be held accountable, then our society is set up for more negligence and incompetence.

What if money intended for medicine and public infrastructure is instead used to construct hotels and malls, and the responsible parties are not held accountable? It’s almost certain that soon there will be another tragic story of a vulnerable woman either dying at an under-equipped health centre or losing a baby because the ambulance couldn’t navigate the poor roads.

What then? Should we celebrate the power of the media in transforming vulnerable lives (such as Night Ampurire’s), or should we decry the media’s failure to prevent the Kiteezi tragedy or even to ask tough questions to those responsible?

Of course, these are difficult questions. One radical view would be to frown at the ‘empathy mobilisation’ impact of the media as a distraction from the broader malaise. But the reality is often far more complicated, and the media only mirrors the society it serves.

A moderate take would be that even when times are tough, there is often low-hanging fruit (as in the case of fruit seller Night Ampurire) that can be plucked.

Yet anyone who has planted a mango tree knows that the lowest branches often have only a handful of fruits. The larger, juicier mangoes are often found higher up in the branches. Obtaining these requires significantly more effort and sometimes even courage.