Kanungu: three years on
There is nothing left but empty, rotting buildings, overgrown bush, and deep holes that seem to go on forever. There is no plaque commemorating their passage, or even a list of their names.
By Kalungi Kabuye in Kanungu
There is nothing left but empty, rotting buildings, overgrown bush, and deep holes that seem to go on forever. There is no plaque commemorating their passage, or even a list of their names.
On that most infamous hill in Kanungu, nothing is left to show that hundreds of people lost their lives in the mistaken belief they were going to heaven.
On March 17, 2000, at least 500 members of the Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God cult were burnt to death in what was first suspected to be a suicide pact. But it turned out to be the worst case of mass murder this country has ever seen.
Later, mass graves were found under the church and nearby premises that made up the camp of the cult led by Joseph Kibwetere and Credonia Mwerinde. By the end of March the death toll had risen to well over 1,000 people, killed and secretly buried by cult leaders.
The whole world came to this remote south-eastern corner of Uganda, and tried to come to terms with the tragedy, and work out how it could happen.
But that was almost three years go.
We were in Kanungu last November to cover the launch of MTN Uganda’s latest telephone network.
There were quiet a few Bakiga in our group of journalists and MTN employees, but none of them had been to the ‘Kibwetere’s hill,’ they did not even know where it was, and did not seem inclined to find out.
There was no way I was going to leave this area without visiting the scene of Uganda worst crime, however, and eventually my persistence paid off and MTN’s Aggrey Kagonyera agreed to take me there.
The rest of the group insisted they also wanted to go, although Elizabeth Kameo often warned of the ‘Kibwetere curse.’
We asked directions from the town centre, but bystanders seemed to disagree where the place actually was. Eventually they pointed out the right road and off we went. It is easy to miss the place, and we passed it before a woman tilling her garden put us right.
The cult’s premises were on a very high hills of many high hills, and no car can get there, so we walked. Children who followed us later told us that where our car stopped is where the cult members would stop talking as they approached the camp.
That is where they said their last word before perishing in the fire or being bludgeoned to death by the cult leaders. Even the most talkative of our group, Kameo, quietened up a bit after that.
We did not know what exactly it is we expected to find. There were no grinning skulls lying on the ground, as used to be found in Luweero. There was no ash of any sort, even the lingering smell of death seemed to have passed on.
There was nothing.
The children took us around the remaining buildings, pointing out the holes in the ground where victims were supposed to have been buried in secrecy.
Where was the church that was burnt down? Where are the mass graves? Nothing, just bush almost two meters high. That was all. Nothing shows that more than 1,000 people lost their lives here on this peaceful hill with grass waving in the cool afternoon breeze.
Shouldn’t there be something to warn coming generations of just how bad man can be? Why isn’t there a granite wall with the names of the victims engraved there for posterity to read and remember the awful fate of people whose only crime was to believe? Why ... Why?...
It was a quiet and sombre group that tracked down hill back to the car.
Later that evening, as we left Kihihi for Mbarara, Kameo’s warning of ‘Kibwetere’s curse’ came back to us. First Aggrey’s four-wheel vehicle broke its suspension while travelling at top speed.
It was a bit of luck that the suspension on the MTN’s ‘resident Chipper’ broke before he started those crazy hairpins of Kanungu, otherwise we’d have had to go back the next week to pick him and his passengers, Sheila and Tina, up from some deep valley.
We left the car there, and they piled into Phillip’s car, a brand new four-wheel Nissan, and we proceeded on towards Mbarara. Just after Rukungiri, however, the grill on the front of Phillip’s car broke off, and they almost went off the road.
After tying the grill back onto Phillip’s car with ropes, we drove without further incidence to Mbarara. It was a very relieved group of people that checked into the Lake View Hotel in Mbarara, so we understood when nobody wanted to go out dancing, expect this writer and two others.
But the question still remains: Where is Kibwetere, whose warrant of arrest is still valid?
On a final note Aggrey said, “He could be the old man polishing shoes in some small Congolese town. He could really be anywhere.â€
There is nothing left but empty, rotting buildings, overgrown bush, and deep holes that seem to go on forever. There is no plaque commemorating their passage, or even a list of their names.
On that most infamous hill in Kanungu, nothing is left to show that hundreds of people lost their lives in the mistaken belief they were going to heaven.
On March 17, 2000, at least 500 members of the Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God cult were burnt to death in what was first suspected to be a suicide pact. But it turned out to be the worst case of mass murder this country has ever seen.
Later, mass graves were found under the church and nearby premises that made up the camp of the cult led by Joseph Kibwetere and Credonia Mwerinde. By the end of March the death toll had risen to well over 1,000 people, killed and secretly buried by cult leaders.
The whole world came to this remote south-eastern corner of Uganda, and tried to come to terms with the tragedy, and work out how it could happen.
But that was almost three years go.
We were in Kanungu last November to cover the launch of MTN Uganda’s latest telephone network.
There were quiet a few Bakiga in our group of journalists and MTN employees, but none of them had been to the ‘Kibwetere’s hill,’ they did not even know where it was, and did not seem inclined to find out.
There was no way I was going to leave this area without visiting the scene of Uganda worst crime, however, and eventually my persistence paid off and MTN’s Aggrey Kagonyera agreed to take me there.
The rest of the group insisted they also wanted to go, although Elizabeth Kameo often warned of the ‘Kibwetere curse.’
We asked directions from the town centre, but bystanders seemed to disagree where the place actually was. Eventually they pointed out the right road and off we went. It is easy to miss the place, and we passed it before a woman tilling her garden put us right.
The cult’s premises were on a very high hills of many high hills, and no car can get there, so we walked. Children who followed us later told us that where our car stopped is where the cult members would stop talking as they approached the camp.
That is where they said their last word before perishing in the fire or being bludgeoned to death by the cult leaders. Even the most talkative of our group, Kameo, quietened up a bit after that.
We did not know what exactly it is we expected to find. There were no grinning skulls lying on the ground, as used to be found in Luweero. There was no ash of any sort, even the lingering smell of death seemed to have passed on.
There was nothing.
The children took us around the remaining buildings, pointing out the holes in the ground where victims were supposed to have been buried in secrecy.
Where was the church that was burnt down? Where are the mass graves? Nothing, just bush almost two meters high. That was all. Nothing shows that more than 1,000 people lost their lives here on this peaceful hill with grass waving in the cool afternoon breeze.
Shouldn’t there be something to warn coming generations of just how bad man can be? Why isn’t there a granite wall with the names of the victims engraved there for posterity to read and remember the awful fate of people whose only crime was to believe? Why ... Why?...
It was a quiet and sombre group that tracked down hill back to the car.
Later that evening, as we left Kihihi for Mbarara, Kameo’s warning of ‘Kibwetere’s curse’ came back to us. First Aggrey’s four-wheel vehicle broke its suspension while travelling at top speed.
It was a bit of luck that the suspension on the MTN’s ‘resident Chipper’ broke before he started those crazy hairpins of Kanungu, otherwise we’d have had to go back the next week to pick him and his passengers, Sheila and Tina, up from some deep valley.
We left the car there, and they piled into Phillip’s car, a brand new four-wheel Nissan, and we proceeded on towards Mbarara. Just after Rukungiri, however, the grill on the front of Phillip’s car broke off, and they almost went off the road.
After tying the grill back onto Phillip’s car with ropes, we drove without further incidence to Mbarara. It was a very relieved group of people that checked into the Lake View Hotel in Mbarara, so we understood when nobody wanted to go out dancing, expect this writer and two others.
But the question still remains: Where is Kibwetere, whose warrant of arrest is still valid?
On a final note Aggrey said, “He could be the old man polishing shoes in some small Congolese town. He could really be anywhere.â€