For 38 days, Kenyan activists Bob Njagi and Nicholas Oyoo vanished into the shadows of Uganda’s notorious military detention system, surfacing only after a regional outcry and diplomatic intervention forced their release. Their ordeal, recounted in chilling detail at a Nairobi press conference on November 12, 2025, has ignited fresh debate about human rights abuses, cross-border activism, and the limits of East African solidarity.
Njagi, chairperson of the Free Kenya Movement (FKM), and Oyoo, the group’s secretary-general, say their journey began innocently enough. "We went to Uganda because we are East African Community citizens. My passport says so, not just Kenyan but East African," Oyoo told reporters, as quoted by Daily Nation. Their trip, he insisted, was a mix of friendship, business, and solidarity. They had attended a manifesto launch in Jinja by Robert Kyagulanyi’s National Unity Platform (NUP)—Kyagulanyi is better known as Bobi Wine, Uganda’s leading opposition figure.
After the event, the activists’ vehicle broke down at a Stabex Petrol Station in Matuga, a site owned by a prominent Kenyan politician. It was there, the following morning, that their nightmare began. "About seven heavily armed men confronted us," Oyoo recalled. He tried to discreetly alert contacts in Kenya by throwing his phone out the window, but a soldier stopped him. From there, events escalated rapidly. The pair were blindfolded, beaten, and shoved into military vehicles. "We thought that in two or three days we would be taken to the border and told to go home. But we were wrong," Oyoo said.
Instead, they were transported to a military base in Kisenyi, home to Uganda’s elite Special Forces Command (SFC)—a unit loyal only to President Yoweri Museveni’s son, General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, according to The Monitor. For 23 days, Njagi and Oyoo endured a relentless cycle of psychological and physical torment. "At Kisenyi, we were often woken up by the sound of gunfire, explosions and shouting between 3:30am and 4am. It’s a military training site. At times, we heard bombs and rocket-propelled grenades (RPG). It was my first time hearing a RPG exploding. It was great psychological torture," Njagi said.
The two men were not alone. More than 150 detainees—Ugandans, Nigerians, and others—were held in the same facility, many for months without trial or contact with their families. "None of the detainees had access to justice, legal representation, or contact with their families," Oyoo told KTN TV. Among the detainees were Amos Rwangomani, a National Resistance Movement cadre; Moses Kasiba, a former Flying Squad operative; and six Nigerians, including Ifeanyi Chukwu Nogwodo Joseph and John Alexander. "Some were seriously tortured," Njagi said, describing injuries inflicted with pliers and other forms of abuse. "For 38 days, handcuffs were our pillow. Eating meant using our hands to handle food."
Conditions were grim. The activists described being handcuffed day and night, chained to chairs, and forced to use paint tins as toilets. "We were denied basic hygiene," Njagi said. "They gave us painkillers, paracetamols. That’s all we got so that we could heal quietly," he told Capital FM. Oyoo added, "It was lock-in—no seeing out, no sun, no fresh air. It was a mess." Food was meager: a cup of porridge in the morning, ugali and beans for lunch and supper. "That was our menu for 38 days. I decided to fast and pray. I knew prayers worked. I did not touch my lunch for all those days," Njagi said.
After 23 days at Kisenyi, the pair were transferred to a secret safe house in Ronyo, Entebbe, a building surrounded by banana plantations and high walls. "Inside, there was only darkness and silence. We would be locked in there throughout the day. There was no sunshine and no fresh air. We could not see each other. But each of us tried to find ways to know if the other was still alive. We stayed there for 14 days," Oyoo recounted.
The interrogations were brutal. "I was tortured on the second day during interrogation," Njagi said. "They removed me from the cell, blindfolded me, and chained me to a chair. One officer would hit me with blows while the other asked questions—about who was funding our movement and what we had come to Uganda to do." Oyoo faced similar abuse. "I was whipped after being tied to a chair. They wanted to know about our groups and connections. They kept asking why we were in Uganda and accused us of trying to bring the Gen Zs of Kenya to Uganda. That was insulting. Ugandans don’t need outsiders to teach them how to fight for their rights."
As the days dragged on, psychological torture replaced physical pain. The only way to mark time was by the sound of boots in the corridor or a tray being pushed under the door. Oyoo recalled breaking the news of former Prime Minister Raila Odinga’s death to Njagi, who was receiving treatment in India when he passed away on October 15, 2025. "He had to break some rules just to get to me to confirm if it was true. That was how we stayed human in there," Oyoo said.
After 38 days, the activists were finally moved under guard to the Busia border, where they were processed and released to their families following a media briefing. Their release came after sustained diplomatic pressure from the Kenyan government and regional human rights organizations, including VOCAL Africa, the Law Society of Kenya, and Amnesty International Kenya. In a joint statement, these groups condemned the activists’ torture and demanded a transparent investigation: "Enforced disappearances and torture have no place in our region. We demand accountability from Ugandan authorities."
President Museveni, in a rare admission, confirmed the activists’ detention, saying on Uganda’s state broadcaster UBC, "We have good intelligence and we arrested the two Kenyans because they are experts in riots." He described their detention as putting them "in the fridge for some days." The Ugandan government had initially denied holding the men, only to reverse course following legal action and mounting scrutiny.
Now back in Kenya, Njagi and Oyoo are determined to seek justice. The Free Kenya Movement plans to file a petition at the East African Court of Justice, suing the Ugandan government for crimes against humanity. "We are working with the civil society to file a petition. We want to sue the Government of Uganda for crimes against humanity," Njagi said. Oyoo added, "The torture and abduction will not derail us. We lost our freedom, our dignity, our right to association, but we will continue."
The activists also called for the release of all political prisoners still languishing in Ugandan detention centers. "I plead with them to release all the political prisoners who are still in those camps," Njagi said. Their focus now extends beyond Uganda, as they look to organize peaceful protests in Kenya over what they describe as the "current crisis in Tanzania."
Despite the scars of their ordeal, Njagi and Oyoo remain resolute. "The torture will not silence us. We will continue fighting for justice, democracy and dignity, not just for ourselves but for all those still trapped in Ugandan cells. We are the people, and power belongs to the people," Oyoo declared. Their story, harrowing as it is, shines a light on the dark realities faced by political detainees across the region—and the enduring will of those who refuse to be silenced.
