Dear Col (Rtd) Dr. Kizza Besigye,
Life may never present me with the opportunity to stand before you, shake your hand, and tell you what an inspiration you are, a moment I would dearly treasure. Yet, I find solace in the belief that your eyes, though they have endured gallons of tear gas in the relentless battle for Uganda’s freedom, can still read my letter.
They may have thrown you into the cold confines of Luzira, but they cannot dim the blazing fire of hope you’ve ignited across this nation. In a cell, they see you as contained but to us, you are a living testament that no wall, no gate, no chain can ever confine the spirit of justice. You are not just a man; you are an idea, a symbol of unyielding courage that puts fear into the hearts of those who mask oppression as liberation. How do they expect to silence the roar of a lion whose voice echoes in every corner of Uganda, challenging tyranny and inspiring generations to dream of freedom?
You are no ordinary man, Dr. Besigye. You are a revolutionary, a patriot who traded the comfort of a doctor’s coat for the uncertainty of the battlefield, not to destroy, but to heal a nation wounded by tyranny. You stood side by side with the very man who now calls you an enemy. Back then, you carried his hope in your hands as his physician, never imagining that one day, you’d have to carry the torch of resistance against him. What irony! What tragedy!
For decades, you have borne the scars of Uganda’s struggle on your back. Rigged elections, trumped-up charges, tear gas, beatings, exile, imprisonment, what haven’t they thrown at you? But with every blow they deliver, you rise stronger, leaving them terrified of what you represent: courage, resilience, and the audacity to tell the emperor he has no clothes. You, Dr. Besigye, are the mirror in which their greed and corruption are reflected, and that’s why they fear you.
Doctor, we have not forgotten. We have not forgotten how the oppressor has taken away your friends, isolated you, and most recently bought out those entrusted with managing the party you so dearly loved and cherished, the FDC. We show the betrayal, the greed, and the shamelessness of those who sold the party’s soul for a handful of millions. Yet you have refused to forgive them, and rightly so. History will not remember them kindly, it will etch their names as thieves, betrayers, and conmen and women who abandoned a nation’s hope for personal gain. But you, Dr. Besigye, will stand apart, enshrined in history as a true patriot, a fearless hero who chose integrity over compromise and inspired a people to believe in the power of resilience and justice.
Dr. Besigye, your resilience embarrasses the regime. They build highways to nowhere, erect monuments to their own egos, and parade their stolen wealth, yet they cannot match the legacy you’ve built through sacrifice. They sit on thrones of corruption while you stand tall in the hearts of the oppressed. They spend billions on repression, yet your courage costs them their peace of mind. Who is truly imprisoned? Those behind bars or those living in fear of the truth you speak?
As you sit in Luzira, know this: we see you. We honor you. We stand with you. They may take your freedom, but they cannot take the movement you’ve built, the fire you’ve sparked, or the hope you’ve given us. You are the conscience of this nation, and no prison walls can contain that. The opposition you’ve fought so tirelessly to build has not fought for you with the same vigor. While you have endured tear gas, prison cells, and endless sacrifice, some amongst us have doubted you. Like the thief on the cross who mocked Christ, they question your struggle, dismissing your suffering as diversion or games with the oppressor. But know this, Dr. Besigye, there are those of us who stand as the grateful thief on the other side, recognizing your sacrifice for what it truly is: a selfless quest to liberate this nation.
We remember the 28th of April, 2011, when you were arrested during the “walk-to-work” protest. They pepper-sprayed you, dragged you from your car, and sought to stifle the voices of the many Ugandans crying out against the rising cost of living. But even as they tore at your flesh, they ignited a fire across the streets of Kampala, where riots broke out in anger. In the face of brutal violence, at least two lives were lost, but they could not extinguish the flame of protest. And let’s not forget the 360 arrests that followed, the names of those you fought for are etched into history, alongside the powerful message that no oppression, however deep, will keep the people silent.
We have not forgotten October 1, 2012, when the police, with heavy deployment outside your home, tried to prevent you from holding a rally at Kiseka Market. Your escape was a testament to your resilience, but the fact that they eventually caught you reminds us of the lengths they’ll go to stop you. But Colonel, no matter how many times they lock you up, no matter how many rallies they block, your spirit remains unbroken. It is not their jails or their forces that can defeat you. It is the truth you carry within you that will forever be invincible.
In 2016, when the election was stolen right before our eyes, you did what any true leader would do, you refused to be silent. Even when the votes were falsified, the intimidation was clear, and the rigging was blatant, you stood tall. You swore yourself in as president, refusing to accept the theft of your victory. They locked you up, but what they didn’t understand that by doing so, they only made your message louder. You founded “The People’s Government,” and in doing so, reminded us all that the power lies with the people, not with those who seek to keep it in the hands of a few.
And now, as your life faces uncertainty in the kangaroo court, we remember that it is not just your freedom they seek to destroy, but the hope you represent. When Winnie Byanyima announced your abduction in November 2024, the world heard it loud and clear. You were taken from Kenya, and brought back to Uganda, to stand trial for crimes they invented because they could not silence your voice. But even as you stand before their military court, you are not alone. The entire nation stands with you.
As I show you appear with a frail face before the courts of the oppressor, I could hear you without waiting to see your lips open. Your face speaks volumes, not just to us but to the world. The lines on your face and the weight in your expression are a profound testament to a lifetime of sacrifice, resilience, and courage in the face of oppression. That frail, tired, and seemingly broken appearance is not a sign of defeat but the face of a warrior who has borne the weight of an entire nation’s aspirations for justice and freedom.
Your weary eyes reflect the battles fought, the injustices endured, and the pain of witnessing a dream for a liberated Uganda deferred by the forces of tyranny. Yet, within them, there remains an ember of hope, a steadfast refusal to bow or surrender. This face is not a sign of weakness but of fortitude, carrying scars that symbolize the struggle of millions who stand behind you. It reminds us that even when weighed down by oppression, the human spirit can rise above, refusing to be silenced or subdued. This face is not merely yours, it is ours, a mirror of our shared pain and our relentless hope for a better tomorrow. You are a living testament that one man’s fight can inspire a continent to dream, to resist, and to rise.
We will not forget, Colonel. Your name will forever be associated with the courage to speak truth to power, the courage to stand up when others cower, and the courage to fight for a better Uganda, no matter the cost. No matter how many times they arrest you, no matter how many trials they put you through, we know this: they will never break you.
Dr. Besigye, you may be like a farmer who has planted and tirelessly watered a fruit tree. You’ve nurtured it with sacrifice, resilience, and unyielding love for this nation. While life may deny you the privilege of enjoying its fruits, rest assured that the tree will bear fruit, and those who come after you will reap its sweetness. Even as the oppressor scoffs, thinking we are weak and cowardly, let them not be deceived, our strength lies in the seeds of hope you’ve sown. One day, we will rise, reclaim this country, and mold it into the nation of your dreams, a Uganda where justice prevails, and freedom reigns supreme. Your efforts will never be in vain, for the tree you’ve planted will stand tall for generations to come.
Stay strong, Colonel. The road is long, but victory is certain. One day, Uganda will remember not the cowards who oppressed you but the hero who stood tall against them.
With unwavering solidarity,
Justine EJIKU
