Uganda faces deepening fear as Rev. Fr. Deusdedit Ssekabira and others are abducted. The rise in enforced disappearances highlights a crisis of lawlessness and impunity.
Uganda is once again plunged into mourning and anxiety as two more names are added to the ever-growing list of the disappeared. Rev. Fr. Deusdedit Ssekabira, a respected Youth Chaplain of Masaka Catholic Diocese, has reportedly been abducted by armed men travelling in a drone vehicle, registration number UBE 199F. Days later, his whereabouts remain unknown. No official explanation. No reassurance. Only silence.
As the country was still struggling to absorb this painful news, another chilling incident unfolded in the heart of Kampala. Sarah Nambogo, a professional going about her daily work at Kampala Club, was abducted in broad daylight by armed operatives travelling in a Toyota Noah, registration number UBP 791G. Like Father Ssekabira, she vanished without a trace. Her family, friends, and colleagues are now left in a tormenting limbo—hoping, praying, and fearing all at once.
These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a disturbing pattern that has slowly but steadily crept into the fabric of Ugandan society. What makes these stories particularly heartbreaking is not only the loss of freedom and dignity suffered by the victims, but also the haunting uncertainty that follows. In enforced disappearances, there is no closure—only endless waiting.
For years, voices have warned that lawlessness, once tolerated, grows bold. First, they came for Muslim clerics. Then opposition leaders and their supporters. Soon, members of academia, civil society activists, and even foreign nationals found themselves targeted. Today, Catholic priests and professionals are no longer spared. The message is chillingly clear: no one is untouchable.
Rev. Fr. Ssekabira was not a politician. He was a shepherd of young people, a spiritual guide, and a symbol of hope within his community. Sarah Nambogo was not a protester or a public agitator. She was a working professional, contributing quietly to society. Their abductions signal a dangerous shift—one where ordinary life itself becomes a risk.
There can be no heroes in a sinking boat. When fear silences society, injustice thrives. Every Ugandan, regardless of faith, political belief, or profession, is duty bound to speak out against this growing culture of impunity. Silence may feel safe in the moment, but history shows it only deepens the wound.
The rule of law is not a favor granted by those in power; it is a right owed to every citizen. When people disappear without explanation, when families are denied answers, and when accountability is absent, the nation itself begins to fracture.
Tonight, countless families across Uganda will go to bed with heavy hearts. Somewhere, a parish waits for its priest. Somewhere, a family waits for a daughter. Their absence is a loud, painful reminder that the struggle for justice is far from over.
Our thoughts remain with all victims of this brutal reality. But thoughts alone are not enough. Uganda must act—before the list grows longer, before fear becomes normal, and before the silence consumes us all.
