By Musa Mulimira
KAMPALA, UGANDA | The afternoon is eerily quiet when I meet Nakabugo Shamim. Her voice remains steady, but her eyes—heavy with exhaustion and fear—tell a different story. She is not a politician, not an activist. Yet, she lives like a fugitive in her own country, hunted not for her actions but for the political choices of her husband, Mulumba Ssemakula.
Mulumba was a mobilizer for Uganda’s National Unity Platform (NUP) until he was forced to flee to Canada in March 2023, escaping a tightening noose of persecution. But while he found safety, Shamim and their children were left behind to bear the brunt of a system that punishes even the families of those who dare to challenge it.
“We Were Just a Normal Family”
“I never imagined politics could turn my life into this,” Shamim says, sitting in a dimly lit room, hands clasped tightly together. “My husband believed in change, but I never thought that alone would make us targets.”
At first, the harassment was subtle—unfamiliar cars lingering near her home, strangers asking questions, and old friends suddenly avoiding her. Then, it escalated.
“One night, there was a loud banging at my door. It was past midnight. My children were asleep. When I opened, three men stood there. No uniforms, but I knew who they were. ‘Where is he?’ one of them demanded. When I told them I didn’t know, one grabbed my arm and whispered, ‘If you don’t bring him back, you’ll suffer for him.’”
Her six-year-old son had woken up, standing frozen in the hallway, watching in horror. “He started crying. They laughed.”
A Life Lived in Shadows
From that night on, Shamim’s life became a nightmare. Strange phone calls. Anonymous threats. Men following her when she went to the market. The unshakable feeling that her every move was being watched.
In February 2024, the threats turned physical.
“Two men on a boda boda stopped in front of me. One of them smirked and said, ‘Tell your husband we’re waiting for him.’ Then he shoved me so hard that I fell onto the road.”
Her groceries lay scattered as the men sped off. Since then, she no longer walks alone.
The pressure reached her family, too. In January 2024, unknown men intercepted her younger brother, demanding to know where she was.
“They told him to tell me to ‘cooperate’ or else. He was so scared he disappeared for days.”
Even her parents, once her strongest pillar, have begun to waver.
“They want me to leave. They know what happens to families of opposition members.”
Trapped in a Silent War
Uganda has long been accused of using state machinery to intimidate, abduct, and silence opposition supporters. But it is not just activists who suffer—it is their wives, children, and families who become collateral damage.
Shamim’s story is just one of many. Yet, she refuses to let fear define her.
“I don’t know what will happen next, but my children deserve a life where they can sleep without fear. Where they don’t have to hide under tables when they hear a knock at the door.”
As I prepare to leave, she glances at the door before whispering,
“They will come again. I just don’t know when.”
For now, Shamim remains trapped in a battle she never chose to fight, a symbol of resilience in a country where speaking out—or simply being related to someone who does—can cost you everything.
