25 years later: How Kanungu tragedy unfolded

It is exactly 25 years since Ugandans woke up to the horrific news of the Kanungu inferno. Over 1,000 people died in what was believed to be a mass suicide of members of the Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments, a group that had been registered with the Government under the NGO Act of 1997. It was led by Joseph Kibwetere, a former catechist and his two associates, Fr Dominic Kataribabo and Sr Credonia Mwerinde.

The morning of March 17, 2000, dawned like any other in the rolling hills of Kanungu district in southwestern Uganda. By midday, however, the world would learn of a horror so profound it would scar the nation’s soul forever.

At the edge of the village stood the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God church, a modest structure of corrugated tin and red bricks.

To the outside world, it was unremarkable, but to the followers, it was the promised ark that would carry them to salvation.

They had come from far and wide — farmers, mothers, children, and elders — drawn by the magnetic promises of Kibwetere, 68, and his inner circle that was comprised of Mwerinde, 48, and two local Roman Catholic priests, Ikazire and Rev. Dominic Kataribabo.

They were told the world was ending in the year 2000 and only those who followed the 10 commandments would be spared.

According to Sunday Vision of March 19, 2000, the cult members first went around the villages nearby, bidding farewell to the neighbours in preparation for the end of the world.

“They were aware they would die on March 17 because the Virgin Mary had promised to appear at their church during the morning hours to carry them to heaven,” Anastasia Komuhangi, an elderly resident of Katete village, told a New Vision journalist then.

For years, they had lived in isolation and sold their property to fund the cult’s vision. They believed their sacrifices would secure their place in heaven.

But as the new millennium approached, the promises grew darker. The leaders spoke of a final act of a fiery baptism that would cleanse them of sin and deliver them to paradise.

On the morning of March 17, the church was unusually quiet.

The doors were nailed shut from the outside, the windows sealed with heavy tin. Inside, the air was thick with the acrid smell of petrol. Men, women, and children sat in rows with a mix of fear and resolve. Some clutched Bibles, others held hands, their voices rising in a final hymn. The leaders moved among them, whispering assurances of paradise.

Then, the flames began

The fire spread quickly, consuming everything in its path. The screams were muffled by the thick walls, but the smoke billowed into the sky, a dark plume that could be seen for miles. By the time the villagers arrived, it was too late.

The roof had collapsed, and the church was a charred skeleton, its floor littered with the twisted remains of those who had trusted too deeply.

Outside, the rain began to fall, as if the heavens themselves were weeping. The scene was one of unimaginable horror.

Bodies lay tangled together, some curled into foetal positions, others sprawled in agony. A baby’s arm, partially missing, lay near the doorway, a silent testament to the innocence lost. The air was heavy with the stench of burnt flesh, and the ground was slick with ash and blood.

Relatives began to arrive; their faces pale with shock.

Among them was Isaac Mugenyi, a young man from a nearby village. He had come to find his brother and his nieces and nephews, all of whom had joined the cult. As he walked through the ruins, his heart sank. There was no way to identify the bodies; they were too badly burned. He stumbled, his legs giving way beneath him, as the weight of his loss crashed down.

Mortuary attendants loading decomposing corpses of Kanungu victims at Makindye.

Nearby, two women wailed like babies, their cries piercing the stillness. Another woman who had lost 10 family members, was numb, unable to comprehend the magnitude of her grief.

“The scene is horror,” a police spokesman said, his voice trembling. “It is only about two or three bodies which you can say that these are men or women. The rest of the bodies are beyond human shape.”

In the days that followed, the truth began to unravel. The cult had been preparing for this moment for weeks. On that day, locals said they held a party at which 70 crates of soft drinks and three bulls were consumed.

They had sold their possessions, held a final feast, and decorated the church with palm fronds, now withered and lifeless. They spoke of Noah’s ark, of a divine reckoning that would spare the faithful.

But as the flames consumed them, it became clear that this was no act of devotion — it was a calculated massacre, orchestrated by leaders who had long since lost their humanity.

The cult’s teachings were codified in a red book titled A Timely Message From Heaven: The End of the Present Times, published in 1991. The book, filled with apocalyptic prophecies and strict moral codes, became the sect’s bible. It warned of global catastrophes, divine punishment and the imminent end of the world. For those who believed, it was a call to action — a directive to prepare for the end by any means necessary.

Unearthing the truth

The Kanungu massacre was only the beginning. As the world grappled with the horrifying images of the burnt church and the charred remains of over 500 believers, a darker and more sinister truth began to emerge.

The flames of Kanungu had barely cooled when the discovery of mass graves across Uganda sent shockwaves through the nation and the world. What had initially been dismissed as a tragic mass suicide soon revealed itself to be a meticulously orchestrated campaign of murder, deception, and terror.

Shortly after the inferno in Kanungu, six bodies were discovered in a shallow pit near the home of the cult leaders.

The victims, like those in the church, had been followers of the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God.

But unlike the victims of the fire, these individuals showed no signs of burning. Instead, their bodies bore the marks of violence — blunt force trauma, strangulation and stab wounds.

It was a chilling revelation that shattered the narrative of a voluntary mass suicide.

The discoveries did not stop there. On March 25, 2000, just eight days after the Kanungu tragedy, 153 bodies were unearthed from beneath the floor of the cult’s building in Buhinga, Rutoma, Rukungiri.

The victims, mostly women and children, had been buried in secrecy, their deaths hidden from the outside world.

Two days later, on March 27, another 155 bodies were found in Rugazi, Bunyaruguru- Bushenyi, buried under the home of Fr Dominic Kataribabo, one of the cult’s key leaders.

The scale of the horror was unfathomable.

By March 30, the death toll climbed higher as 81 more bodies were discovered at Rushojwa, 35km northeast of Kanungu. And as if to underscore the cult’s far-reaching influence, on April 27, 2000, a total of 55 bodies were found in a mass grave at Buziga in Makindye division, Kampala — proof that the cult’s grip extended far beyond the rural southwest.

Pathologist reports painted a grim picture.

Many of the victims had not died in the fire.

Instead, they had been clubbed, strangled, hacked to death or poisoned before their bodies were burned.

The majority of the dead were women and children, the most vulnerable members of the cult. It became clear that the Kanungu inferno was not an isolated act of fanaticism but part of a larger, more sinister plan to eliminate those who had outlived their usefulness to the cult’s leaders.

The Government vowed to bring the perpetrators to justice.

Warrants of arrest were issued for the cult’s leaders, including Joseph Kibwetere, Credonia Mwerinde, Fr Dominic Kataribabo, Fr Joseph Mary Kasapurari, Fr John Kamagara and Sr Ursula Kamuhangi. A bounty of sh2m was placed on each of their heads.

Yet, despite the nationwide manhunt, none of the leaders were ever found. Some speculated that they had perished in the Kanungu fire, while others believed they had fled, disappearing into the shadows with the blood of their followers on their hands.

For years, they had operated in plain sight, their crimes hidden behind a façade of piety and devotion.

The victims, many of whom had joined the cult seeking hope and salvation, had instead found betrayal and death.