In yet another alarming case of repression in Uganda, internationally acclaimed author Kakwenza Rukirabashaija has fled the country after enduring a month of arbitrary detention, torture, and severe restrictions on his freedom of speech. His only “crime” was expressing criticism against Uganda’s long-time ruler, President Yoweri Museveni, and his son, a powerful army general.
This case has drawn significant local and international condemnation, once again spotlighting the deteriorating human rights situation in Uganda.
Who is Kakwenza Rukirabashaija?
Kakwenza is no ordinary writer. He is the author of the provocative political novel “The Greedy Barbarian”, a biting satire about corruption in a fictional African country, which many interpret as a thinly veiled critique of Museveni’s regime. His literary courage earned him the 2021 PEN Pinter Prize for International Writer of Courage, awarded to writers who risk their freedom for the sake of truth.
But the very qualities that won him international acclaim also made him a target at home.
In late December, Rukirabashaija was arrested for tweets deemed offensive to President Museveni and his son, Muhoozi Kainerugaba, a high-ranking general in the Uganda People’s Defence Force. These tweets, though satirical, sparked the wrath of the state. He was charged under Uganda’s Computer Misuse Act, which has been widely criticized for criminalizing free expression.
His arrest was neither peaceful nor lawful. He was abducted, detained incommunicado, and denied access to his family and lawyers for several days. He was only presented in court after immense pressure from human rights organizations, the European Union, and the United States government.
Torture in Detention
While in custody, Rukirabashaija endured horrifying acts of torture. In a chilling account to Uganda’s Daily Monitor, he described how security operatives used pliers to pluck flesh from his thighs and other parts of his body.
“They started using a pair of pliers and plucked flesh from my thighs and everywhere. That day I thought I was dying and thought of denouncing my Ugandan citizenship,” he said.
Photographs of his mutilated back surfaced online, shocking the nation and stirring a wave of outrage across social media platforms.
After weeks of physical and psychological abuse, Rukirabashaija was released on bail. But his freedom was conditional. Chief Magistrate Douglas Singiza refused to release his passport and banned him from speaking to the media. In frustration, the author took to Facebook, labeling the magistrate a “bespectacled pigheaded magistrate” and mocked the court’s obsession with his travel documents.
“You’re a disgrace! Now, put my passport in the dock and try it. I won’t face you again,” he wrote.
With continued state surveillance, threats to his life, and no legal recourse, Rukirabashaija made a desperate but courageous decision—he fled the country. According to his lawyer, Eron Kiiza, he escaped via Uganda’s land border with Rwanda and is now temporarily settled in an unnamed European country.
“Conditions had become impossible for him. They kept surveilling him. They took away his passport. He had no option but to go and save his life,” said Kiiza.
Both the European Union and the United States have raised red flags about the escalating repression in Uganda. The EU issued a statement denouncing “a significant increase of reports of torture, arbitrary arrests, enforced disappearances, harassment,” and other attacks on civil liberties.
The U.S. echoed similar concerns, citing “recurring credible accounts” of abuse by Ugandan security forces, warning that such practices “reflect poorly” on the government.
This incident adds to Uganda’s troubling human rights record under President Museveni, who has ruled since 1986. His administration has faced growing criticism for muzzling dissent, targeting political opponents, suppressing the media, and enabling security agencies to operate with impunity.
Rukirabashaija’s story is not just about one man’s suffering. It is emblematic of a broader pattern of authoritarianism and abuse of power in Uganda. His escape is both a tragedy and a triumph—a reminder of the terrible price paid for free expression, and the resilience of those who refuse to be silenced.
His courage continues to inspire writers, activists, and freedom fighters across Africa and beyond. But his ordeal also sends a clear message: Uganda’s democratic institutions are in crisis, and the world must not look away.
Conclusion:
Kakwenza’s flight from Uganda is a damning indictment of a government that fears words more than weapons. As long as writers are tortured for their ideas, the hope of democracy in Uganda remains under siege.
The international community must hold the Ugandan government accountable and amplify the voices of those, like Kakwenza, who risk everything to speak truth to power.
