Healing wounds: Uganda’s struggle with the aftermath of Kyadondo’s bombing

In July 2010, the heart of Uganda was shattered when coordinated bombings struck the capital, claiming the lives of at least seventy-four people.

As football fans gathered to watch the World Cup final at Kyadondo Rugby club and Ethiopian Village restaurant, the attacks reverberated far beyond the immediate devastation, embedding trauma deep within the nation’s psyche. Fast forward eleven years, and the scars of violence have resurfaced.

In 2021, a wave of bombings across central Kampala, including a suicide attack on a bus to Lungala, reig- nited old wounds, killing at least seven and injuring dozens more. The grim Komamboga restaurant explosion just weeks prior had already left the city grappling with a pervasive sense of fear.

The situation escalated in 2023 with the Kasese school massacre, where more than 40 people, predominantly students, lost their lives in a brutal assault. For survivors of these atrocities, the journey has been fraught with pain and hardship.

Many are left with physical disabilities and haunting memories that refuse to fade. Despite government and NGO efforts to provide emergency aid, survivors advocate for a more comprehensive, dignified response to their ongoing struggles. At a recent multi-stakeholder meeting in Kampala, survivors joined government officials, Red Cross representatives, and civil society groups to share their urgent message: Uganda must evolve from mere sympathy to meaningful action.

A Personal Tale of Survival

Zura Ramathan, a Congolese refugee and former tea and porridge vendor, embodies the plight of many survivors. On the night of the 2010 bombings, Zura was knocked unconscious by the blast after delivering porridge to a bank. When she regained consciousness, she found herself surrounded by chaos, bleeding and disoriented.

“I thought it was a boda accident,” she recounted, her voice heavy with memory.

“When I woke up, I was in a pool of blood.” Zura’s recovery journey was fraught with challenges, including financial barriers that delayed her surgery and led to severe complications.

At Kampala hospital, she faced a demand for Shs 800,000 for first aid and an additional Shs 250,000 to proceed to the operating theater. She waited with a piece of metal lodged in her body as her coworkers scrambled to collect the funds. After three days, her condition worsened, and she noticed a foul smell emanating from her injury.

“I had nothing,” she said. “So I stayed there for three days with just a bandage on my head. It started to rot and smell.” Eventually, help came from a CBS journalist who mobilized funds from listeners, but by the time the money arrived, the window for early surgery had passed.

When Zura was finally operated on, her eye could not be saved. A month later, doctors diagnosed a rotting eye and prescribed medicines costing no less than Shs 50,000 per dose, available only at First Pharmacy.

“I begged from friends and borrowed money,” she said. “I promised I would pay once I recovered, but I was sinking into debt.”

Months later, Zura and other victims were summoned to police headquarters in Naguru, where a State House representative distributed Shs 10 million to each survivor from the president.

For Zura, most of that money vanished instantly, clearing hospital bills, debts owned to friends, and medicine expenses, leaving her with just Shs 2 million.

“I lost my business, my health and my dignity,” she reflected.

Today, Zura wears glasses provided by Hassan, director of the Prospect Initiative, yet she finds it impossible to return to the vibrant life she once led.

“I survived the bomb, but every day is a struggle.”

The Silent Majority

Zura’s story is not unique. The 2010 bombings left hundreds with lasting scars, both visible and hidden. Civil society organizations estimate that hundreds of Ugandans live with untreated injuries and post-traumatic stress from these attacks.

Many survivors include amputees and those still carrying shrapnel lodged in their bodies. In Komamboga, victims of the 2021 restaurant attack still speak of hearing the explosion in their nightmares.

Parents who lost children in the Kasese school massacre now live with unrelenting grief, compounded by the trauma of survivors who escaped with burns or broken bones.

“We are alive, but forgotten,” one victim lamented. “The bombs did not kill us, but poverty and neglect are killing us slowly.” Stigma compounds these challenges, with survivors often facing societal discrimination.

Some are labelled as “cursed,” and many women find themselves abandoned by their partners. The psychological wounds inflicted by both the attacks and societal rejection are deep and enduring.

A Call for Comprehensive Support

At the forefront of the advocacy efforts is the call for a Witness and Victims Protection Act, which would mandate medical and psychosocial support while safeguarding victims from stigma. Survivors emphasized the importance of long-term care over temporary assistance.

Red Cross officials echoed this sentiment, insisting that the focus must shift from emergency response to sustained rehabilitation for survivors. Without ongoing support, many victims remain trapped in a cycle of dependency and despair.

Integrating Survivors into Society

Participants in an advocacy meeting argued that integrating victims into national development plans is crucial. Survivors, once entrepreneurs and professionals, can contribute significantly to the economy if given the necessary support.

“Investing in survivors is not charity; it’s human capital development,” one speaker asserted. “We must restore these citizens to productivity.”

The meeting allowed survivors to share their harrowing experiences, reminding attendees that statistics often obscure the human stories behind the numbers. Their testimonies evoked powerful emotions, highlighting the need for empathy and action.

“Every survivor here carries scars, some visible, some invisible,” one victim stated. “We don’t want pity. We want dignity.” Moving Forward While Uganda has made strides in supporting terrorism victims, significant gaps remain.

Survivors still face inadequate medical care, persistent stigma, and insufficient financial rehabilitation. The call for a dedicated victims’ rehabilitation fund is stronger than ever, aiming to address the long-term needs of those affected.

As the meeting drew to a close, participants held a moment of silence for those who never had the chance to tell their stories. Then, a collective call to action resonated: Uganda must transition from sympathy to tangible support.

“I survived the bomb, but every day is a struggle,” Zura concluded, her voice steady. “Survival alone is not enough. We need to live with dignity.”

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