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| Former president Idi Amin (L) with former Church of Uganda Archbishop Janani Luwum in the 1970s |
In Summary
Raid on Luwum home. On the night of February 5, 1977
a one Ben Ongom, suffering from torture wounds and in the company of a
group of armed men of the Uganda Army, the national army then, dug a
hole in the fence of the official residence of the archbishop of the
Church of Uganda at Namirembe Hill in Kampala to gain access. Using
their tortured victim, who called out to the archbishop to open for him,
they accessed his house to search for guns. In this week’s issue of our
series Witness, Ms Julie Luwum Adriko, a daughter of the late
archbishop, takes us back to the events of that night
I was not very young at the time when soldiers raided our home. I was about 22 years then and working. The day started like any normal day for us at home. Father went to office very early as he usually did and I also went to my work place. That evening was equally normal with nothing seeming to be out of the ordinary. When father came back, he went to his private study room at home to do his work as he usually did. At supper time, we all gathered as a family, had our meal and said our prayers. We prayed as a family before going to our respective bedrooms.
The attack
At around 2pm, our dog, Koma, started barking hysterically. As head of the family, father got up to see what was happening. He walked to the door and asked who was out. Someone outside responded: “Archbishop, it is me, Ben Ongom. Please open the door.”
Because of the prevailing situation at the time, he knew someone coming to him at that hour of the night needed help and he opened the door. Lo and behold! He was immediately assaulted by the soldiers, who used their gun butts to push him about 10 metres inside the house, demanding to be shown where the guns were.
From our bedrooms, we heard the commotion downstairs. We all gathered in a corner in one of the bedrooms, with mother. I was the eldest child in the house at that time. The house helps in their staff quarters stayed put as events in the main house evolved.
The soldiers rummaged through the house, from the kitchen to the bedrooms, turning everything upside down. They asked father to show them the guns he was reportedly keeping. He asked them: “What guns are you talking about? For me, my gun is the Bible.”
After what seemed to be like eternity, going through every corner of the house and throwing everything about, including turning everything upside down in the compound and finding nothing, Ongom asked my father to direct him to homes of some Langis and Acholis within Namirembe so that they could go and check if they are the ones with the guns. I recall my father responding: “I am not here for any Langi or Acholi. I am here for all human races.”
When they were satisfied what they were looking for was neither in the house nor the compound, they asked to have the gate opened for them to leave. Mother could not hear of it and demanded that they go the way they came. Father insisted that as Christians, we should treat people with kindness, however much they would have wronged us and decided to open the gate for them to go. During the search, they never took anything from the house and they never injured any person. The only physical attack was when they pushed father with a gun butt when he opened the door.
At around 2pm, our dog, Koma, started barking hysterically. As head of the family, father got up to see what was happening. He walked to the door and asked who was out. Someone outside responded: “Archbishop, it is me, Ben Ongom. Please open the door.”
Because of the prevailing situation at the time, he knew someone coming to him at that hour of the night needed help and he opened the door. Lo and behold! He was immediately assaulted by the soldiers, who used their gun butts to push him about 10 metres inside the house, demanding to be shown where the guns were.
From our bedrooms, we heard the commotion downstairs. We all gathered in a corner in one of the bedrooms, with mother. I was the eldest child in the house at that time. The house helps in their staff quarters stayed put as events in the main house evolved.
The soldiers rummaged through the house, from the kitchen to the bedrooms, turning everything upside down. They asked father to show them the guns he was reportedly keeping. He asked them: “What guns are you talking about? For me, my gun is the Bible.”
After what seemed to be like eternity, going through every corner of the house and throwing everything about, including turning everything upside down in the compound and finding nothing, Ongom asked my father to direct him to homes of some Langis and Acholis within Namirembe so that they could go and check if they are the ones with the guns. I recall my father responding: “I am not here for any Langi or Acholi. I am here for all human races.”
When they were satisfied what they were looking for was neither in the house nor the compound, they asked to have the gate opened for them to leave. Mother could not hear of it and demanded that they go the way they came. Father insisted that as Christians, we should treat people with kindness, however much they would have wronged us and decided to open the gate for them to go. During the search, they never took anything from the house and they never injured any person. The only physical attack was when they pushed father with a gun butt when he opened the door.
After they left, we could not go back to our beds,
instead we all curdled on the sofa in the sitting room. The young ones
who could not stay awake slept down on the carpet. We just wanted to be
together at that moment
When day broke, I went to work. Father had already left for office. He went earlier than usual, I think to share the previous night’s experience with his colleagues at office. As a family, the day after the attack was normal. We only had to convince father not to spend the night at home. He spent the night at Namirembe Guest House as a security precaution. Thereafter, he returned home but my mother still feared for his safety, advising him to leave the country but he refused to go, saying: “I cannot leave my flock.”
When day broke, I went to work. Father had already left for office. He went earlier than usual, I think to share the previous night’s experience with his colleagues at office. As a family, the day after the attack was normal. We only had to convince father not to spend the night at home. He spent the night at Namirembe Guest House as a security precaution. Thereafter, he returned home but my mother still feared for his safety, advising him to leave the country but he refused to go, saying: “I cannot leave my flock.”
lubegah@ug.nationmedia.com
