Monday, June 24, 2019 began on a happy note for Phoebe Oprah Kiddu but took on a bitter edge later. Little did she know that Monday would be the last thrill day she was spending with family and friends before she was plucked off the street by men in dark-tinted glasses and spent 25 days in captivity.
On the fateful day, Kiddu and her colleagues allied to NRM for Justice, a youthful political pressure group, converged at Mulago playground to participate in a marathon dubbed: “Run from captivity.”
Plan was, the run would be capped with a presentation of a document to the British High Commission in Kitante, petitioning it to intervene and help reverse the “mismanagement” of the country.
Kiddu’s group also firmly opposes the endorsement of President Museveni as the party’s sole candidate in the 2021 polls. As the chairperson of the pressure group and the ruling NRM publicity secretary for Kawempe South B, Kiddu was one of the early birds at the venue.
“When we reached Mulago, police had heavily deployed and ready to arrest us,” Kiddu, 33, says in a low tone. Kiddu was abducted in broad daylight on June 24 in Mengo and resurfaced on July 19, 2019.
She adds: “My friends later called informing me that they succeeded in submitting our document four days ago [Friday, June 21] and the marathon wasn’t necessary. We decided to continue hoodwinking police that we were set to run as some of us slowly left the venue.”
Kiddu, with about five other members, proceeded to Mengo for a brief meeting and lunch before they went separate ways.
KIDNAPPED ON THE STREET
She doesn’t recall seeing anyone follow them from Mulago to Mengo but her abductors seem to have been on her trail. To return home, she walked from their meeting point to Balintuma road where she hoped to get a boda boda ride through Nakulabye to Makerere. As soon as she approached Ndejje University, a saloon car pulled up beside her. She first ignored the car occupants’ call-outs twice until the driver called her by name.
“I got shocked! When I got close to the vehicle, the driver jokingly said we are cowards who failed to run due to police deployment. Later, a lady seated in the co-driver seat held my hand tight as another man opened the back door and led me inside,” she says.
“There was a boda boda man around [who could have helped] but he didn’t seem to care because I wasn’t fighting them. Inside, one of the men showed me a pistol and I believed these were mere security people.”
All the four car occupants were dressed in plain clothes with dark shades. They immediately interrogated her about her group’s motives. Later, one of the men in the back seat ordered the driver to make a U-turn and drive towards Nateete. Kiddu’s fears became heightened when the driver went past Nateete police station. As they approached Busega roundabout, she reached for her phone in the bag to make a phone call.
“I had not yet even dialed the number and one of the men grabbed my phone, removed the line and battery.
“He said; ‘It’s here [in Busega] that anyone will know where you last had a phone.’ Another man got something like a small bag and placed it over my head. I didn’t know our next route,” she says, adding that her abductors switched to Swahili to communicate the next destination. Finally, Kiddu was led into a dark room and the door was hurriedly slammed.
She says she eavesdropped on the last instructions given to her caretaker: “Don’t give her anything to eat or drink until we return in three days!”
A tearful Kiddu says her room remained closed until a bucket was pushed inside. The male voice on the other side of the door said: “Whatever you want to do, use that bucket!”
On the second day in darkness, her tied hands and feet tied onto a chair, “I was asked what we want. Who’s our funder? Where my friends stay? But, I remained silent. They told me if I don’t talk, I will die from this room. They also brought very cold water in a bucket and poured it on me,” Kiddu recalls.
She adds that after a while, the men returned asking similar questions but got no response. They kept her tied.
“One time, they [captors] were too angry and tied me facing upside down and poured cold water on me. In one instance, one of the men gave me a hot slap on my right cheek. It was so hot that I felt the hotness from the other cheek,” she says.
When the abductors noticed that she was weakening, they gave her bread and water – this was her first meal since the kidnap.
WORST EXPERIENCE
Things took a turn for the worse. The captors pressed her hard around the waist, triggering her monthly periods. “They [periods] came earlier than expected probably due to torture. I couldn’t tell the days of the week or time because I was kept in darkness throughout. I lost track of my days but I expected periods any time,” she says.
With her naturally big stomach, her captors thought she was pregnant and concluded that the bleeding was due to a miscarriage. This erroneous conclusion was a blessing in disguise. A person with a masked face sauntered into her room and switched on the light.
“This man gave me very little water to clean up and a tiny piece of soap to wash my knicker. He told me to sit on the bucket until I stop bleeding. He moved out and returned with toilet paper, which I would roll and pad myself without a knicker because the only one I had was not clean enough,” a teary Kiddu said.
She added that after some intervals, they would come and take her discharge and return a clean bucket. Having spent the previous nights on the bare floor, a small sleeping bag was also given to her. On this day, they ordered her to face the wall so she could talk to someone. The unknown person asked similar questions; what are the motives of NRM for Justice?
In a few minutes, they ordered her caretakers to untie her hands and feet. She could practically hear the blood rushing back into her swollen feet and ankles. She had bruises and deep rope marks. To quench her thirst, splash juice, a big mineral water bottle and Ribena were given to her. Kiddu doesn’t recall other incidents beyond this narrative but found herself in a medical facility with her father, brother and friends.
RESURFACES
Three days after she went missing, her father Steven Kiddu reported a case of missing person at Wandegeya police station; SDREF: 45/26/06/2019. Weeks later, the desperate search for her daughter didn’t yield any result until she was found dumped near the staff quarters of Makerere University primary school on July 19. She was dumped on an incline behind a unipot next to a public water pump. Her brother, Moses Banalekaki, told The Observer that he rushed to the scene about 20 meters from their home at around 6:40am.
“I found Phoebe with swollen arms and clots of blood around her wrist and feet. Her body was too cold and stiff. The arms and fingers really scared me; the handcuffs were either so tight or she was injected with something,” Banalekaki recalls.
He rushed her to Getwell general clinic in Masanafu to their family doctor where she is still receiving treatment as an outpatient. The family cannot figure out who kidnapped Kiddu for 25 days without asking for a ransom. Her handbag, phone and shoes were retained by her captors.
SUSPECTS
According to Kiddu, she cannot pinpoint any of her captors but she points an accusing finger at one Edris Sempa, a senior director with the Internal Security Organisation (ISO) in charge of Kampala metropolitan area.
“When we started opposing the president’s sole candidature, the only person who has ever threatened me is Hajji Sempa. He called me and said they are capable of kidnapping or doing anything to me. He also warned me against our activities,” Kiddu says.
“When I was abducted, my friends say he [Sempa] contacted them but they refused to meet him because I had gone missing.” She adds that on June 23, she also received a call from an unknown person with a hidden caller identity, who said: “We are watching your moves as you prepare for the marathon.”
Interviewed for a comment last Friday, Sempa said he has never interacted with Kiddu. “Now, who’s this?” he asked, bursting into laughter. “In my life, I have never heard of the name you’re talking about. Secondly, that’s not even my role. Why should I kidnap people? Those people are just looking for their own things and there’s nothing they know about me.”
Asked whether he has never contacted Kiddu, Sempa said: “I am being sincere with you from the bottom of my heart that I even don’t know that name in my interactions with the community. Some people might want to tarnish people’s names when they don’t know that we have worked for them [reputation] for years.”
He added: “I honestly don’t know anything. I am being open with you, that this name [Kiddu] has never come into my mind. I have never interacted with such a person you are telling me.”
Kampala Metropolitan Police spokesman, Luke Owoyesigire, says police detectives have already recorded Kiddu’s statement and given her medical examination forms.
“We have so far observed that she was tied with ropes and there are visible marks on her hands and feet. She alleges that she entered a saloon car but she doesn’t remember the make and number plate,” Owoyesigire says.
“We want her to take us to the point where she was picked to start investigations and failure to do that, the case will not go anywhere. You never know CCTV cameras around can help us, too.” For now, Kiddu says the pain in the chest, wrists and feet is clearing but continues to get headaches and dizziness.
nangonzi@observer.ug