The unanswered pain of Ugandans

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OPINION

By James Galabuzi Mukasa

Uganda’s history is deeply marked by bloodshed, political violence, and heartbreak. Many lives were lost, and countless families were left with unanswered questions about the fate of their loved ones.

Political violence entered Uganda’s landscape in 1966 and intensified through ethnic divisions and the terror of Idi Amin’s regime. The Lubiri attack left many dead, with bodies never recovered for decent burial. This tragic pattern continued throughout the 1970s.

One such painful story is that of my father, Edward Galabuzi Mukasa, who was kidnapped on August 23, 1977, from his office at Udyam House. Forty-nine years later, he has never been seen, dead or alive. His disappearance remains one of the many unresolved mysteries of Uganda’s dark past.

Under Amin’s regime, victims were dumped into infamous detention centres such as the Nakasero dungeons, where countless Ugandans were tortured, starved, and dehumanised. Mzee Lawoko, one of the few survivors, recounted the horrors inside those prisons. He described prisoners were given human-cooked meat during Christmas and Easter, while others drank urine to survive. The psychological trauma endured by those who lived through such brutality is beyond comprehension.

Disappearances like my father’s were not acts of war but calculated actions by state agents. A person would go to work and simply vanish, never to return. The pain of not knowing whether a loved one is dead or alive is immeasurable. It is a burden many Ugandans still carry.

Another haunting memory is of a father who dropped his children off at school in Kampala, only to be surrounded by armed men who set his car on fire. His children cried out helplessly as the tragedy unfolded. This is just one of many stories of senseless violence that have scarred our nation.

In 1986, a commission of inquiry examined the violence from 1962 to 1986. Although its findings aimed to address past injustices, it did little to foster national healing. It lacked a platform for victims and perpetrators to meet, confront the truth, and pursue reconciliation.

South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission offers a powerful example. Nelson Mandela, after enduring years of imprisonment and torture, chose forgiveness over vengeance. In a remarkable act of reconciliation, he shared a meal with a former prison warden who had once tormented him. That willingness to confront the past with honesty and courage helped South Africa move toward healing.

As Uganda reflects on the legacy of Archbishop Janani Luwum and other martyrs, it is time for a bold step toward national healing. We need a structured platform where offenders—or their families—can meet victims or their families. Truth must be told openly. Those responsible for crimes should admit their actions. While painful, honesty is essential for genuine healing.

Many Ugandans grew up during insurgencies, walking past bodies on their way to school and living in constant fear. Even children carried the anxiety of not knowing whether their parents would return home. These wounds remain unaddressed.

This process must be led by Ugandans. An independent body, such as the Inter-Religious Council, could facilitate dialogue and provide counseling support. Reconciliation should extend beyond political actors to include social and cultural dimensions of our society.

Restorative justice offers a promising path. Rather than focusing solely on punishment, it emphasises healing, accountability, and community involvement. By encouraging empathy and open dialogue, it can help rebuild trust and promote lasting transformation, especially in post-conflict settings.

Many Ugandans carry hidden pain behind brave smiles. Unanswered questions continue to haunt families decades later. True national healing requires acknowledging the past, confronting the truth, and embracing meaningful reconciliation. Only then can Uganda move forward as a united and restored nation.

jgalabuzi@gmail.com