Can the World Cup help save Qatar migrant workers from being starved for relationships of love, romance and intimacy?

By Yasin Kakande

In my first home in Dubai, when I worked as a journalist, I shared accommodations in an apartment building, which had several brothels on the top floors, serving largely migrant workers who were trying to make ends meet on their low wages. In fact, many buildings in the neighborhood had apartments, which were rented as brothels. Every night, it seemed like a loud party with frequent brawls breaking out in the corridors. For those of us trying to sleep without interruptions, it was often impossible.

I shared the unit with ten other single men. Some of my roommates visited the brothels but they rarely spoke about it. One roommate in his fifties was the only one who bragged about his visits and he regularly threatened to publish the names of everyone he met at the “top flats,” as the brothels were called.

He developed a scheme where he would steal one shoe from any person he found at the brothel, as a signal that he knew they had lied in denying that they ever visited the “top floors.” He showed the shoe to everyone and soon others in the building picked up on his scheme. Any man who noticed that one of his shoes was missing knew that his secret had been disclosed.

It was not a surprise that once I landed my first job as a reporter for a local newspaper, my first piece would be about pimps and brothels, which included details about the walls of mosque toilets being covered with phone numbers connected to pimps.

I invited a photographer on a Friday evening, a time when nearly every worker flocked to Dubai from their labor camps, filling up buildings where female sex workers have flats. It was a pilgrimage to ease their sex-starved urges. There were dozens of queues leading to a specific door. As one worker left, another entered quickly. A friend tried to explain that he and the others were in line for women, and soon I noticed a woman coming out to pick the three workers and lead them inside. Most men coming out of the rooms looked down like guilty children who had been caught in some misdeed.

For background research, my editor specifically wanted me to visit Khalid bin Al Waled Street, the neighborhood location for many of the emirate’s nightclubs. It is a lively scene going until early morning, as there are many sex workers and escorts from all nationalities, races, and ethnicities turning up to enter the clubs or stand along the side of the road. Punters also roam the street in cars or as pedestrians, looking to make a bargain for a single-time sex stand. There are also oglers, who are single poor men who can’t afford even a bargain-priced encounter but nevertheless are grateful to be watching the women moving in and out of the club or the process of negotiating a deal.

The street is named after the Islamic warrior who fought and won many battles during the early Islamic days of Prophet Mohammed’s work. Today, it has all of the amenities of a red-light district similar to anywhere else in the world where sex is available for sale legally or illegally. It gets busier as the night progresses, with cars in long queues similar to those in morning rush hours. What slows vehicles on the road mostly are the punters who stop on the roadside to surf for women at the entrances of nightclubs and other locales to negotiate a bargain.

Taxis regularly picked up and dropped off young women with their clients, which also slowed and backed up street traffic. Police patrolled the street back and forth continuously and honked to alert cars to keep moving.

Ten years after being expelled from Dubai for my book The Ambitious Struggle, I moved to Doha in Qatar, where I noticed differences between the open display of sex workers in Dubai and secretive operations in Doha. The pimps in Qatar were mostly secluded in their brothels, which combined prostitution with the alcohol trade. Nearly every illegal alcohol dealer in old villa houses or apartments also had several women either at the house or on call for sexual activities.

The country’s policies on alcohol trading, which require a license to drink, have pushed the spirits business into the shadows, which then merged with prostitution. Despite these restrictions, alcohol is widely available in Doha and many drinkers easily find means of avoiding the law’s heavy arm. The law requires that anyone licensed to drink alcohol must be a non-Muslim and must be earning a sizable income, which, of course, immediately disqualifies many expatriate migrant workers.

Most brothels find eligible patrons, who act as intermediaries in selling crates of spirits, which are then sold in the brothels. Qatar brothels frequently held private parties with music and alcohol, drawing many single men away from the nightclubs, which always have been expensive and usually have restrictions on dress codes and other types of behavior and activities. Hotels operate on stricter standards than those in Dubai, demanding marriage certificates from their clients who turn up at the reception desk as a couple. Some residences also ban single women from entering residences to visit a male companion.

Even though most hotels ask for marriage certificates from couples, there are a few hotels that have circumvented the rule, but they also charge much higher room rates. Most prostitutes in the nightclubs and bars provide their clients with a list of hotels, which do not ask for a marriage certificate or where receptionists gladly accept bribes to bypass the rule.

The region is more dangerous to migrant women as punters automatically assumed every woman walking on the street is a prostitute and would approach propositioning them with the question of “how much?”

Ever since Qatar won the bid to host the World Cup, human rights organizations have criticized the country and Qatar’s neighbors for the systemic exploitation and abuses of migrant workers. All kinds of suffering for migrant workers have been mentioned but not the deliberate starvation of their opportunities to find romance and sexual intimacy. Migrant workers are starved for affection and love because they are prohibited from bringing their families or are not allowed to marry someone and start a family of their own in Qatar.

The region’s top airlines have even been pressured to fire employees who found romance and were married while they were employed by the airline. These tense scenes are common among Gulf region immigrants, where governments have denied them the rights to have a partner, spouse and family but meanwhile have unwittingly (or intentionally) opened their doors for sex workers. It is a profound social hypocrisy considering that the government has based its legal code and social mores on the restrictions and obligations of the Islamic faith. As the world turns its attention to Qatar and the forthcoming World Cup, more light will be shined on these circumstances. And, groups will be energized to pressure the emirate to loosen and ease such restrictions because of how migrant workers are relegated to a status even lower than second class.

This sort of deprivation which affects many Gulf region migrant workers is a truly torturous practice. It deprives them of any meaningful, productive concentration in life and makes their living painful — socially, culturally, spiritually, economically and emotionally. They work so hard to provide a living to send to their spouses thousands of miles away, without the returns of intimacy and pleasures other partners are able to enjoy.

Common sense would dictate that a relationship with a spouse is more special and comforting than any involving casual, anonymous relations. Even in enlightened Western societies where sex outside of long-term relationships is accepted and tolerated, individuals still cherish the freedom and the right to be able to have a long-term relationship with an individual without having to risk or worry about their livelihood.

But this is not only a torture for men working in Qatar or Dubai but also a torture to the wives they have left behind and the children who might never know the love of their father. The only connection comes from the money wired back home. For men who come to the Gulf region to work, they might have only a month or two at most out of every two years to see their families. There always is the possibility of disappointment in any long-distance relationship but the pain seems to be more acute here. If a couple relies on trust to keep going, one or both partners in the relationship may no longer be able to withstand the weight of absence or loneliness and one or both will be tempted to break this trust.

It would be next to impossible to get any official in any Gulf country to admit that in the process of restricting the freedom of most migrant workers to marry, the government policies in these Muslim holy lands essentially opened the doors to prostitution. They have indirectly supported the influx of young women of barely legal age into their countries to meet the spiraling sexual demands of their workers. Though some tourists would appreciate this venture, not a single worker in any of the labor camps or bachelor-designated accommodations would ever think the government’s actions were being kind and considerate to their needs. Those who have once had families and had lived with their wives in their poverty-stricken home countries would tell how their encounters with prostitutes simply exacerbated their emotional distress.

But even a few roommates who freely talked about their encounters with prostitutes mentioned how it did not bring comfort to their lives but instead simply increased tension and stress. Roommates frowned upon abiding by the rules of “first pay, don’t touch here or there” and “hurry up to get over with it.” One roommate once described that from between the curtains separating the beds in the brothels, one could easily hear the familiar line: “Have you finished, my friend; another customer waiting.”

This reinforced the sense of isolation for the migrant worker who sought out some form of intimate release. It’s just human nature for someone to make the encounter as gratifying and meaningful as possible but even the idea of foreplay was impossible because that was not part of the negotiated transaction. And, the purpose was to keep the queue moving so longer sessions were out of the question.

And, there were many stories of men being thrown out of the brothels for not consummating the deal quickly enough. The biggest embarrassment for brothel visitors occurred when they left the room, too shy or ashamed to look into the eyes of other men still in the queue waiting to carry on from where they had finished or didn’t finish. The guilt of what he had just done would be so intense to lock one’s gaze onto another, not because of jealousy that the next man would have more success while he had experienced a nightmare but instead because he was embarrassed to be amongst them, sharing a woman. And, despite how widespread the practice was, the stigma of being found at it was self-defeating and demoralizing.

I once queried a roommate about what it felt like seeing a friend or acquaintance at the brothel. His answer intrigued me. “I just stop hiding and reach out to shake his hand and ask him to be discreet with my secret in return for my being discreet with his secret as well.” Still this secret would not be the basis for two men to become closer friends or even acquaintances who would hang out together, just as they had visited the same prostitute. What it actually did was aggravate the intensity of their guilt and shame, enough to make both of them too embarrassed to pursue a friendship. At a certain point one could blackmail the other and leak the secret to a friend or a group and once the other one learned of the betrayal, he would get his revenge likewise.

All of this seems especially incongruous for a Gulf emirate like Qatar who has merited the opportunity to host a global event on the scale of the World Cup. Or, Dubai, often recognized for its humanitarian efforts to aid starving communities in Asia and Africa or locations struck by disasters including earthquakes, storms and tornadoes, even in developed countries such as the U.S. But the fact that the majority of its residents living in the outskirts of its shining cities or even its own citizens who call themselves “locals” endure starvation of another kind is disturbing on many levels.

Should there be other communities willing to help? But help for sexual or emotional starvation is much more complicated than the shipment of food-related items the emirate has offered its less fortunate friends. It is complicated – certainly from every sense of moral and ethical propriety– and no community is going to send thousands of its people, women or men, as a rescue package to Qatar or Dubai. The rich emirates with all their abundant resources cannot start distributing to each bachelor-worker a woman or to each local woman a man.

However, still there is something the government of Qatar and its neighboring Gulf states can do to ease the situation. The governments could remove the restrictions in Kafala law so that immigrants can bring their wives and families. Otherwise, the Kafala system is no different than slavery, as it has been manifested throughout history, where the greed of the employer is paramount. On the surface, the government wears its humanitarian face for the global media and public. But, to their own workers who have come from afar because of the promise of prosperity and stable economic livelihood, they are hardly humanitarian but instead stone-faced cruel overlords.

Yasin Kakande is a Ugandan Journalist and Author of Slave States: The Practice of Kafala in Gulf Arab Region

The deaths that haunt me a decade on

In this exclusive piece published by the Migrant Rights, a journalist deported from the UAE for reporting on migrant deaths grapples with memories of untold stories.

My complicated journey to Boston began when, as a reporter working in the United Arab Emirates, I was assigned to cover a major fire at the National Paints factory in the city of Sharjah in 2010. The day after my article was published, I received a tip that a firefighter on company payroll had perished in the blaze. The company owners and police officials had not disclosed any casualties.

I went to the site and met Tabreer Ahmed, who told me that his brother, Khurshid, had died while trying to contain the blaze. He presented me with a photo of his deceased brother, and we exchanged phone numbers.

He was rebuffed by company officials, who denied that any of its employees had died during the fire. The company told Ahmed they had accounted for everyone, that all of them were safe, and suggested he file a missing person report.

The company told me the same. Similarly, the police and civil defence authorities denied there were any fatalities. Meanwhile, Ahmed passed along my phone number to two other families who claimed their sons had also died in the blaze.

I discussed the story of these victims with my editors, who said there was nothing to be published if officials had denied the deaths. I was dismayed that my editors believed the supposed credibility of officials more than family members who knew that their loved ones were gone. In my heart and mind, I kept returning to the tragedy. I could not comprehend how anyone could casually dismiss the existence of three victims who fought to contain the fire. I felt I owed it to them to get their story out there.

I pitched the story to a couple of European media outlets that had also reported on the blaze and offered to cover it, without using my byline. But none of the outlets accepted, emphasizing that they could not take any article about the blaze anonymously.

I was dismayed that my editors believed the supposed credibility of officials more than family members who knew that their loved ones were gone.

One editor followed up on my query, asking me to assist their reporter who was in the Emirates at the time by sharing some sources for a court case. In return, their reporter would meet the families of the deceased and interview them for a follow-up. I agreed. After the reporter returned to Europe, he emailed me apologising that he could not proceed because his editors were only interested in stories from the Emirates with a tangible European angle. The deceased were all Indians.

The families of the victims had hoped that this reporter would follow through and write the story. When I informed them that he had backed out, and of the reasons why he could not proceed, the two families stopped talking to me.

Two months after the fire, workers cleaning the site discovered human bones. The source who had tipped me off earlier called to let me know that police were removing the remains. It was not just one body. There were bodies of three firefighters. Despite the clear evidence, officials still refused to confirm the fatalities.

One of my editors was angry when I updated him.“We’ve been there before, Yasin,” he said. “Police say nothing; we write nothing. What’s so difficult for you to understand?”

I was perplexed by my editor’s insistence on never rocking the boat, essentially disavowing our journalistic mission as watchdogs and speaking truth to power. I tried to convince my editors to change their minds, reminding them that our media competitors were pursuing the story.

Oddly enough, that was the only reason they relented. They feared facing a corporate superior about our sagging readership more than they cared about the fundamental needs of a free press.

The editor responded, “OK, go for it.” But still, only a fraction of my submitted copy was actually published.

My colleagues who knew how much I had invested emotionally in covering the story called to congratulate me, but it did not alleviate my anger. Had company owners, police, and editors not dismissed the story, the remains of those victims would not have stayed hidden for months in the rubble of that horrible blaze.

After that, I obsessed over every potential story about a fatality that our editors refused to publish. There were numerous stories of unexplained suicides, covered-up murders of domestic workers, and the deaths of workers who fell from high-rise buildings in Dubai and Sharjah. The expected line was that publishing these stories would tarnish the public image of the UAE and their leaders. The media is expected to exercise an independent watchdog role in their respective communities but in the UAE this role was co-opted, with disturbing frequency, to function as a protective screen for ruling elites and their businesses.

I sought an alternative. I compiled these ignored stories in my first book, The Ambitious Struggle. As soon as I published it, government officials were angered, and their revenge was swift. They forced my editors to terminate my employment and expelled me from the country I’d called home for over a decade.

I spent the next two years in Uganda before finally arriving in the United States, where I applied for asylum. As I’ve sought to set up my life here during the last five years, I’ve been unable to forget the victims whose stories were never told as they should have been, and whose dignity was denied.

Yasin Kakande, originally from Uganda, lives outside of Boston and is pursuing his MFA in creative writing at Emerson College.

Political Assassinations and Torture; A Legacy of Museveni’s 35 Year’s Rule


Those who stand up for Justice will always be on the

right side of history.” Barack Obama

On a busy street in Kampala one evening in April 2012 at around nine o’clock after Muslims had completed their last prayers and were joining the commuter melee of cars and cyclists to go home, two men on a motorcycle, known as Boda Boda in local dialect, approached Sheikh Abdul Karim Sentamu, a renowned Muslim cleric and leader of the William Street mosque. The two men said the traditional Islamic greetings to the Sheikh before shooting him dead and then disappearing into the traffic.

It was a start of a series of political assassinations by men on motorcycles in Kampala. Sentamu, like most of the other victims, was a Muslim who had once been a member of a rebel group called Allied Democratic Forces (ADF), before receiving amnesty from Museveni.

Among these victims was Sheikh Mustafa Bahiga, shot five times at Bwebajja Mosque on Entebbe Road. Sheikh Ibrahim Hassan Kirya also was shot multiple times when he arrived at his home in Bweyogerere, Wakiso District. Sheikh Kirya had earlier informed police that he feared for his life after his colleagues were killed in related incidents by unknown assailants on motorcycles. Major Mohammed Kiggundu, one of the former commanders of the ADF rebel group who had joined the Ugandan Peoples Defense Forces (UPDF) after being pardoned, was also shot dead, along with his bodyguard Sergeant Steven Mukasa, one morning at Masanafu, a Kampala suburb. The two were driving to the city in a UPDF pickup truck. Kiggundu had turned into a strong advocate of the Museveni regime on radio stations after his amnesty and recruitment into the army. One time a caller during his radio talk show warned him in plain language that Museveni never forgives former rebels or anyone who has ever tried overthrowing his regime. Other Muslim clerics murdered by motorcycle assailants included Abdul Kadir Muwaya and Abubaker Kiwewa.

Most of the victims were those who had previously rebelled

against the government of Museveni or were deemed politically inconvenient to the regime. Every time a politician was assassinated the police assembled a group of mostly Muslim men on television it had arrested as suspects. Most of those arrested were other Muslim clerics of a rival faction. As they appeared on television some were limping with all the signs of torture. Most disturbing was that even after these arrests, the assassinations continued with other targets killed in a similar way that implied the real assassins were still at large. The police attempted to reassure the citizens and authorities reportedly conducted comprehensive investigations but not a single report was ever published.

There is no concrete evidence for the claim, but it seems at least reasonable to assume that the phenomenon of the assassination by motorcycle-borne gunmen was a weapon being used by the state. The collusion at all levels of official apparatus that was required for these crimes to be committed with total impunity makes it so.

Ugandans attack govt officials at funeral of slain police chief | Africanews
Muhammad Kirumira, was gunned down in the Kampala suburb of Bulenga.

Clearly the weapon was considered to be effective as its scope was broadened considerably to include high-profile political figures. Joan Kagezi, the Senior Principal State Attorney, was the first Non-Muslim target, shot dead in her car while shopping in Kiwatule, a Kampala suburb. Kagezi, who was a prosecutor in a July 2010 twin bombing trial, was shot twice at close range by the assailants while she was seated in her official car. She was known as an ethical independent prosecutor, more inclined not to take orders on what to investigate or ignore because of political sensitivities regarding the Museveni regime.

The peak of these political assassinations occurred when Andrew Felix Kaweesi, a police spokesperson, along with his driver and bodyguard were gunned down about 100 meters from Kaweesi’s home in Kulambiro, Nakawa Division in Kampala. Then, Ibrahim Abiriga, the Arua municipality member of parliament, and his bodyguard were shot dead, near the MP’s home in Matugga, Wakiso District. An audio of an eyewitness account circulated on social media urged all Muslims in Matugga to flee the area to avoid being rounded up as purported suspects as far as they can after the shooting because the government likely would arrest any of them to parade on television. The audio reflected a general feeling among the population that the government was not interested in arresting the real killers but instead announced after every shooting the arrests of apparently innocent citizens on the streets, mostly Muslims as a coverup for the killers.

Andrew Felix Kaweesi, a police spokesperson, gunned down along with his driver and bodyguard

It seemed as if the motorcycle assassins could not and would not be stopped; and killings became more frequent. Muhammad Kirumira, an outspoken critic and a Ugandan police officer, was gunned down along with a female companion in the Kampala suburb of Bulenga. Kirumira, who was a key witness in a case against General Kale Kayihura, the sacked police boss, had repeatedly told the media that he had become a target for assassination after having revealed that there were bandits of criminals in high posts of the Uganda police. “Expose the mafia to save the state. When you speak, you die. When you keep quiet, you die. Better speak and die when the message has reached the people,” Kirumira said in a short video clip that went viral on social media after his assassination.

Kirumira’s death had a profound effect on the people of Uganda as he had foretold his own death and even that was not enough to protect him. Clearly the assassins were working with no concern for conscience or law. Each killing would put gruesome pictures on social media and illicit a huge reaction from Ugandans.

Kirumira’s assassination happened a few weeks after the army had shot and killed Yasin Kawuma, Bobi Wine’s driver, and reports about the politician’s torture had been circulated publicly. The international media focused intensely on the repressive nature of the Museveni regime for the first time. Museveni responded with acts of apparent concern: attending the scene where Kirumira had been gunned down and addressing parliament, blaming the assassination on elements in the police colluding with the criminals. Museveni also outlined new measures in his address to lawmakers that included setting up a modern forensic laboratory, installing CCTV cameras, shooting down unregistered drones, and banning hoodies.

It is true to say that in Uganda at least, the phenomenon of political assassinations carried out by gunmen on motorcycles was new, but only as a delivery system starting in 2012. Political assassination was familiar: politicians that had proved inconvenient to Museveni had been assassinated throughout the 1980s and 1990s. Gunmen would visit victims’ homes and shoot them dead in sight of their family members. One of these victims was Dr. Lutakome Andrew Kayiira who had a rebel group also fighting Obote alongside Museveni’s bush war. Museveni says in his book The Mustard Seed that during those times, his rebel group confiscated a consignment of guns that were supposed to go to Kayiira’s rebel group. But Museveni and Kayiira had reconciled after Museveni came to power, and, in fact, Kayiira served as an energy minister in the Museveni government in the late 1980s, before his assassination.

Also, Major General James Kazini, former UPDF commander, challenged his government bosses. First, he was accused of disobeying the president, when he moved battalions of the Ugandan army under his command in West Nile without Museveni’s approval. He then was accused of sending money to rebels of the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) in Southern Sudan and later Ugandans were told he had been beaten to death by his girlfriend in a brawl.

Political assassinations in Uganda during the Museveni rule have not only occurred by putting a bullet in the victim’s head. There have been an implausibly large number of unexplained deaths among the political classes and in some the suspected cause was poisoning. One such case is that of Brigadier Noble Mayombo, who was the Permanent Secretary for the Ministry of Defense and Chairman of the Board of Vision Group. In April 2007, Mayombo felt unwell and was admitted to Kololo hospital where he was diagnosed with acute pancreatitis. The next day, his condition having worsened, he was transferred to the intensive care unit at International Hospital in Kampala. His condition deteriorated further and on April 29, 2007, comatose, on life-support systems, he was flown to Agha Khan Hospital in Nairobi Kenya. He was airlifted to Nairobi in the Presidential Gulfstream plane, on Museveni’s orders, a courtesy because of what was supposed to be a relationship as mentor and trusted comrade. However, Mayombo died at the age of 42. Speculation that there might have been foul play prompted the government to launch an investigation. The team concluded its investigation and handed a report to Museveni in November 2007. As of today, the detailed findings of that probe have never been released to the public.

Another suspected case of murder by poisoning was that of Cerina Nebanda, who at 24 was the youngest woman MP, serving in the Butaleja district. Nebanda criticized the president on his handling of corruption and unemployment. When she died of suspected poisoning, her parliamentary colleague Mohammed Nsereko was arrested for suggesting that the President was responsible for her death. Also, General Aronda Nyakairima, an MP who served as minister for internal affairs, died on a flight from South Korea while he was traveling through Dubai, a sudden death that followed the same investigative path as Nebanda’s death.

The evidence that poisoning is being used by the regime as a political weapon is further strengthened by the fact that some politicians have survived having been poisoned. One such is Hussein Kyanjo, former MP for the Makindye East District. Kyanjo, one of the most eloquent legislators in Uganda, was instrumental in fighting government-proposed bills to make the government the sole land owner in Uganda. He called the proposal a land grab. But it was his investigations of suspected bribery in oil deals in 2011 as a chairman of a parliamentary committee that likely triggered the attempt to poison him, which he relayed to me personally. Kyanjo, who received treatment in Dubai and London, said he had been diagnosed with dystonia, a disorder that affects the control of body movements, but his doctors suspected he also had been poisoned. He has lost the eloquence that once moved crowds and has trouble speaking at all, but he is grateful to be alive.

The list of assassination victims in Uganda is as long as the years Museveni has ruled the country. Political assassinations are so common in dictatorships where dictators attempt to rule for eternity, but in Africa, Uganda during Museveni’s tenure has experienced more political assassination than its neighbors. Every time someone was assassinated the Government promised to leave no stone unturned and to get to the bottom of the matter but each investigation eventually faded and what findings there were will never be made public, even when the victim was a public figure. This became the crucial yardstick for comparison, to distinguish assassinations carried out by dissidents and those likely perpetuated by the government.

Assassination became an understandably sensitive issue. People who demanded investigations or asked that results be made public soon became targets themselves. Ugandans understood that if the Government was not forthcoming with information about a given death then it was better to pretend that the victim had never lived. In some cases the President would give money to the families of the victims and showcase them as they publicly expressed their gratitude as when he gave 20 million shillings (U.S. $5,000) to the families of Yasin Kawuma and Muhammad Kirumira.

Neighboring countries have shared Uganda’s troubles with political assassinations, and some have had their leaders who were killed when they departed from Uganda. One was Dr. John Garang of South Sudan who died in a plane crash, after attending peace talks in Uganda. Journalist Andrew Mwenda was arrested for suggesting the Ugandan government was behind Garang’s death.

Political assassinations is not the Government’s only tool of oppression. In September 2009, the Ugandan government sought to prevent King (Kabaka) Muwenda Mutebi, a cultural leader of the Buganda ethnic group from traveling to Kayunga, a town near Kampala where National Youth Day festivities were planned. His supporters took to the streets, and, in some instances, threw stones and set fires. The military and police beat demonstrators and quickly resorted to live ammunition, killing unarmed protesters and bystanders.

The government maintained that 27 people lost their lives, largely as a result of security forces’ stray bullets. Human Rights Watch (HRW) investigations of hospital records and local organizational accounts put the death toll at more than 40. Sources at Mulago hospital told HRW that they treated 88 victims, the vast majority of them for gunshot wounds. And more victims were taken to other hospitals. The government never investigated or charged any security force members for the deaths.

In another violent incident, the Ugandan army and police raided the compound of the Rwenzururu King in the western town of Kasese. More than 100 people were killed, the bloodiest incident in the country for more than a decade. The king, Charles Wesley Mumbere, and nearly 200 people were arrested; they still await trial, on charges including murder, terrorism, and treason. The Bakonzo people, the main ethnic group in Kasese, straddle the borders between Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo, in the Rwenzori mountains. It is here, the Ugandan government alleges, that Bakonzo radicals want to carve out an independent kingdom. The King denies this, but people in these parts have long felt marginalized by the state. In Kasese there has been no investigation into the massacre. Peter Elwelu, the commander in charge that day, has been promoted. Maria Burnett, an HRW representative, said the killings illustrate the “entrenched impunity” of Museveni’s regime. That sense of impunity persistently degrades the quality of life for Ugandans and most people have decided to move to countries they think they would be safe.

Why We Are Coming by Yasin Kakande is out now, priced £15.43 in paperback and £4.64 as an eBook (£4.64). Visit Amazon [LINK TO]. For more information, visit [LINK TO]

Africa’s Most Reliable Imperialist Agent, The West, Will Not Let Go


Ugandans will be heading to the polls early next year to elect the country’s new president. According to international journalist, migrant activist and TED Fellow Yasin Kakande, present incumbent and candidate, President Yoweri Museveni, is already taunting the main opponent, Bobi Wine, as being a stooge of foreign donors.

These, however, were the same cries that Museveni’s predecessor, Apollo Milton Obote, made about Museveni in the ‘80s. True to Africa, Kakande says, there seems to be no other way to power without Western imperialist help.

In this exclusive excerpt from his new book, ‘Why We Are Coming’, Kakande discusses how Museveni remained loyal to his imperialist mentors by expanding Western imperialism to all neighbouring African countries.

Under Museveni, Uganda had placed more troops abroad than any other country in the world barring the U.S. And Ugandan troops were significant in determining the outcomes from conflicts in Somalia, South Sudan, Democratic Republic of Congo, Rwanda, Burundi, and even Kenya, after election-related violence erupted in 2007.

In 1991, after Somalia’s dictator Mohammed Siad Barre was overthrown, the country went into a vicious civil war. The U.S. sent 100,000 troops to restore order in an operation they called “Operation Restore Hope,” which began as an effort to underwrite the delivery of UN Aid by guaranteeing security in Mogadishu but ended as an unsuccessful manhunt targeting the Somali faction leader, General Mohammed Farah Aidid. On October 3, 1993, one of the bloodiest days of the conflicts and one immortalized in the annals of U.S. military legend, General Aidid’s militia killed 18 Americans and wounded more than 70 others. More than 300 Somalis were killed. The battle proved to have been the bloody dénouement of the American obsession with Aidid: the U.S. stopped pursuing him, unwilling to risk further casualties. The American troops pulled back into their encampments and compounds, dispatching few patrols until the politicians in Washington formally aborted the expedition. Thus bloodied the U.S. looked around and asked who in Africa was willing to take on the Somali war, and Museveni was the first to raise his hand. The Uganda People’s Defense Forces (UPDF) provided about 6,000 troops leading the African Union Mission in Somalia (Amisom). Uganda’s involvement drew the ire of the Somali Islamist militants “Al Shabab”: in July 2010, a double suicide bombing in Kampala killed 76 people who were watching the World Cup soccer final on television.

As in Somalis so in South Sudan where Uganda acted as the intermediary of the American support to the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) in its war to separate South Sudan from North Sudan in the 1990s. Two years after South Sudan declared its independence, President Salva Kiir fired his vice-president, Riek Machar, and the political power contest snowballed into military clashes fought along the Dinka-Nuer ethnic lines representing Kiir and Machar, respectively. Museveni immediately deployed Ugandan troops, telling journalists the troops had been sent at the request of the South Sudan government, just in time to save Kiir from being toppled as the country’s leader.

Uganda was instrumental in regime changes involving its immediate neighbors. On his return from undergoing military training in the U.S., Paul Kagame—formerly a senior officer in the Ugandan Army—joined with other Rwandese exiled in Uganda, to form the Rwanda Patriotic Front (RPF). The RPF, supported by the Ugandan government, waged a war against the Rwandan government of President Habyarimana that would culminate in the Rwandan Genocide, which decimated the Tutsi population of the country. Kagame successfully overthrew Habyarimana’s government, and has been the president of Rwanda since 2000.

But not all of Museveni’s adventures have been welcomed by all sections of opinion in the West. One such is, their invasion of the Democratic Republic of Congo a resource-rich black hole into which the region was pulled for a decade. The conflict was triggered when the armies of Uganda and Rwanda, both key security allies for Western interests, turned against each other in the Congo. A 2001 United Nations report noted that Museveni and Kagame were “on the verge of becoming godfathers of the illegal exploitation of natural resources and the continuation of the conflict.” The report identified, as The New York Times article highlighted, “three dozen businesses, based in Belgium, Germany, Malaysia, Canada, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Britain, India, Pakistan, and Russia . . . as having imported minerals from Congo through Uganda and Rwanda.”

The allegations were substantiated. Following the war, the Government of the DRC Congo sued that of Uganda and Rwanda for plundering its resources and committing war atrocities. The International Court of Justice found Uganda guilty in December 2005, and the country was ordered to pay Congo $10 billion in damages. Museveni’s closest relatives, including his son Major Muhozi Kainerugaba and brother Lieutenant General Caleb Akandwanaho with the alias of Salim Saleh, were implicated in overseeing the plundering operations.

In Burundi, citizens attempted a coup in 2015 after their late president Laurent Nkuruziza, Museveni’s friend and another strong ally of the U.S., announced he was standing for a third term. Jubilant citizens thronged the streets after the coup announcement and news that the deposed president Nkurunziza fled the country, but that joy was soon darkened by the shadow of regional enforcer Museveni. Ugandan troops entered Burundi to overturn the coup and reinstate President Nkuruziza.

Museveni has been careful to keep his relationship with the U.S. Secure by helping even in its wars in Middle East. During the Invasion of Iraq in 2003, 20,000 Ugandans worked in American military bases.

Somewhat counterintuitively, while it would be reasonable to surmise that when Uganda sent troops to neighboring countries and to the Middle East, the West was bankrolling the costs, the situation is not as simple as that. Certainly, the U.S. and some European countries contributed to the peace missions that were spearheaded by the Ugandan President, but much of the money for Uganda’s adventures, comes from Uganda itself.

Indeed, soaring defense budgets and costs that dwarf government spending on health care and agriculture must be seen as a significant component of Museveni’s legacy. With a population of approximately 42 million, Uganda often ranks at or near the top of the league table for defense spending among nations in East Africa. In 2011, it was first state in the region with an annual military expenditure that topped $642 million, more than $1 billion in the values current at the time of writing.

Why We Are Coming by Yasin Kakande is out now, priced £15.43 in paperback and £4.64 as an eBook (£4.64). Visit Amazon For more information, visit

When are we going to have an honest conversation on African migration?

In this exclusive article, International journalist, migrant activist and TED Fellow Yasin Kakande, author of a new book on the historical and contemporary reasons for African immigration, ‘Why We Are Coming’, traces the intersection between Black Lives Matter and African Migrations in the Covid-19 Pandemic.

From the video images of a Minneapolis police killing of George Floyd to the images of African immigrants sleeping on the streets of Guangzhou in China, after being evicted during a racist fallout in which they were accused of spreading the COVID-19 virus, all these images have unleashed an intense way of emotions for black people all around the world.

As Black Lives Matter protests have mushroomed across all over U.S. states and at least 18 countries, the gatherings have emphasized that black lives from all perspectives must be included in the dialogue, including those of African immigrants. It was more than 20 years ago, for example, when Amadou Diallo, 22, from Guinea was shot and killed by four New York City police officers, who later claimed the victim was mistaken as a suspect in a rape case. Diallo, who had no criminal record, was unarmed. The officers, who later were found not guilty, fired 41 shots and 19 struck the young immigrant in the February 1999 incident. In 2004, Diallo’s family received a $3 million settlement under New York’s wrongful death statute.

Black people of African ancestry continue to be viewed suspiciously throughout the world. In China, photos showing printed signs banning black people from entering shops to buy food have been shared widely across social media. Meanwhile, the Chinese government has denied any racist sentiments were behind the actions.

The attacks on black people are not new, nor limited to China. African migrants have been murdered in the Middle East. Europeans have done little to save African migrants from drowning in makeshift boats as they seek refuge in their countries. And, in the U.S., innocent black citizens continue to be gunned down indiscriminately by the police or self-proclaimed white nationalists or vigilantes. The abuse and torture of black people occur everywhere.

There is no moral obligation for any country hosting black people to protect them and consider their standing as recipients of human rights. In the court of many host countries, unfortunately, more than a few African migrants are deemed guilty before charged and, therefore, are urged to stay in their countries. The current pandemic has intensified these sentiments. Instead of addressing the continuing plunder of African resources that has continued to starve Africans of opportunities for decades in the post-colonial era, and which has left them little choice but to migrate elsewhere for a modicum of economic justice, the world still manages to heap blame onto Africans. COVID-19 has not changed the circumstances.

International journalist & migrant activist Yasin Kakande

Today, Africans are not welcome anywhere but the resources from their lands remain a fair game for the world’s most developed countries and those aspiring to join this powerful elite. Africa is still the richest continent in terms of available resources on the planet, yet its people are the poorest. In Africa, European and American foreigners own the land, mines, banks, factories, fuel stations and airlines, with the wealth transferred expeditiously to the West. Should anyone note this in the global immigration debate, they are immediately dismissed as a whining, trivial distraction.

We have leaders in Africa whose main role is to oversee the ongoing massive plunder of their countries by foreign corporations. They are funded and armed to restrain African efforts to disrupt the status quo. These leaders issue decrees that ensure thousands of Africans can be forced from their lands to pave way for corporations to pursue lucrative projects without domestic consequences.


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So, what does the future hold for ordinary black people? What does it mean to be black in a world where hate is on the rise? What will happen to our children and grandchildren? These questions ring more acutely now as the Covid-19 pandemic’s most serious effects are being felt everywhere.

This is a crisis not only for poor black people but also for the slight numbers of successful African elites who have managed to squeeze themselves through the narrow escape hatches toward economic freedom and prosperity. However, they cannot guarantee the same success for their children or grandchildren. Reality catches up after spending a fortune to enroll children in the best schools of the country, only to realize after graduation that the only substantial opportunities are to send them to Saudi Arabia or Dubai to become servants to Arab families. These are painful truths.

Other black elites who have managed to settle in the west struggle to bring over their families. The rules which are always changing in the west only allow one to bring along their closest family members: children, spouse and parents. However, African families always have been larger than what the West considers typical. African culture acknowledges that one’s immediate family encompasses not only brothers and sisters but also cousins and nieces,  whom we wish to rescue from permanent poverty in their homeland.

But, even for those rescued children there are new challenges. Children risk being subjected to hostility in their new communities in the west, where their black neighbors might be gunned down while jogging or playing in their grandmother’s backyard or for just holding binoculars. One hopes that the despair being suffered on their home continent does not find new sources or expressions in their new home. These risks and dangers continue now, even as the world’s attention is absorbed with the pandemic. In fact, this present moment is absolutely the right time to deal with the issues, especially as the public health crisis has exposed so many disparities and inequalities in historically disadvantaged communities.

Sadly, it is not only Europeans or Americans citizens who not yet ready for a honest debate about the reasons behind African migrations. Even my fellow Africans are unprepared, afraid or paralyzed to address the metaphorical elephant in the room.

As a journalist, I was among the first Africans in my field to raise the issue of abused African migrants in the Middle East and though the response of the Gulf Arab rulers to deport me back to Africa shocked me, even more shocking was the number of fellow Africans who told me to stay quiet. Many of those who urged that I remain silent benefited from deals with foreign recruitment companies but, surprisingly, there were others—especially African migrants much like myself who thought my reporting and writing served no other purposed but to expose their secret games of survival in their host countries.

These misfortunes on black people are not going to exhaust themselves on their own and disappear. We cannot afford to bury these injustices and go on because the risks of having our children and grandchildren living on this planet as second-class citizens pleading desperately with Europeans, Americans, or the Chinese to just take them on, even if it means being subservient to the point of slavery, have become inexcusable and unacceptable. The pandemic has revealed a crisis of human dignity on many dimensions. The plight of Africans is just one of them.

The Black Lives Matter protests are unlike previous events. The anger against police is being fused with the frustrations of economic inequities which only have been exacerbated by the corporate practices of global capitalism.

As we struggle and eventually find our way to a new normal, there is the political will to rectify many long-standing injustices. One should involve a thorough, honest discussion about the future of ‘Blackness’ on this planet. We should not expect to find answers in summits led and orchestrated mainly by Americans and Europeans. After all, we should never trust the arsonists to be firefighters.

Why We Are Coming by Yasin Kakande is out now, priced £15.43 in paperback and £4.64 as an eBook (£4.64). Visit Amazon For more information, visit

Has president Museveni turned $491.5m IMF loan into pandemic heist?

Ugandan-born international journalist Yasin Kakande is concerned that the current coronavirus pandemic may be being exploited by Uganda’s government to syphon funds and wrest further control from its beleaguered citizens. He writes exclusively for The Voice about his fears.

CONCERNED: International journalist, migrant activist and TED Fellow Yasin Kakande

RECENTLY, I asked a couple of friends on WhatsApp about how they would title a movie where Yoweri K. Museveni, the president of Uganda for more than 35 years, received an International Monetary Fund (IMF) loan worth $491.5 million to stop the spread of the novel coronavirus. One called it a “COVID-19 heist”.

Money Heist, a Netflix series, is among the most popular shows being watched in Uganda during a strict lockdown with curfew rules thoroughly and unconditionally enforced. ‘Heist’ is the most appropriate word to characterize the millions of dollars that the Ugandan president regards as his personal prize purse.

Ugandans, who know all too well their government’s animosity toward any shred of public accountability and transparency, are anxious and unsettled even more than usual during the pandemic. Ugandans readily comprehend the guidelines attached to an IMF loan but they also are being kept from the details of how the government has promised the international lender it will use the monies during the pandemic. Reasonably, Ugandans believe that such a loan would mean expanding the existing hospital beds capacity in their country and building hospitals in areas of the country where nearby access to urgent medical care is limited. Also, would the monies go toward acquiring masks, ventilators, and PPE?

Ugandans want to believe that the IMF considered these requests as conditions for making the loans, and that if their government is not being forthright about the intended uses of the money then they hope that IMF officials would rectify the matter and clarify publicly what the loan was specifically made to do. Then, local citizens can trace the accountability to see if, indeed, medical facilities are being expanded to handle the potential caseload as well as making more trained healthcare professionals available.

One of the worst side effects of the pandemic in Uganda is lack of critical information. The government certainly is not addressing the issue. On May 19, Dr. Stella Nyanzi, the convener of the Women’s Protest Working Group, was arrested, along with numerous protestors who were detained after a leading a protest in Kampala to end the “hunger pandemic”. The group has petitioned the government to revise the containment measures being enforced. The petition indicates that while no deaths have yet been registered in the country due to the pandemic, “high handed enforcement” has claimed more than 890 women and their infants “who either died in labor after failing to access transport to health facilities”, or after being shot by security forces for ‘violating’ these measures. The petition cites hunger and anger are sweeping the country, “causing frightening levels of domestic violence and suicide, whereby women are the major victims”.

The anger is not new. Ugandans regularly hear news of loans being made to their government, only to discover that they are the ones burdened with repaying the funds through increased taxation while never hearing of how the loans were used for the intended purposes of improving services or infrastructure in their country. Many believe that the money often goes directly into the pockets of the big shots in government.

Every year, the Ugandan government introduces new forms of taxation, squeezing even larger sums from Ugandans who are starved chronically in terms of the economic means. This year, the government announced a new property tax that will burden owners of homes and similar small properties. These taxes are enacted to pay back loans such as the one just made by the IMF.

OUT NOW: Yasin Kakande’s book Why We Are Coming

There also are other burdens affecting Ugandans. For example, in Africa, the IMF demands that governments relinquish control over key economic institutions in their countries to the private sector. Unfortunately, the private sector has become the proxy for the former colonially-owned corporate enterprises to continue their old ways. In Uganda, this means handing over the country’s economy to large western corporations and to cronies loyal to Museveni. During the Museveni era, the country lost publicly-owned entities including Uganda-owned airlines and financial institutions such as Uganda Commercial Banks to the private sector and foreign investors. The Uganda Electricity Board was dismantled and replaced by foreign investors under the corporate name of ‘Umeme’. Lint Marketing Board, Nyanza Textile Industries (Nytil), Uganda Grain Milling and Mulco Textiles—which once employed thousands of Ugandans—were all sold and mismanaged by private buyers who either were foreigners or family members and close friends of the Ugandan president.

These arrangements that Museveni has made with international money lenders have made him a darling of the West, earning him status as a reformer. However, for Ugandans, the regime has been devastating, as the country’s wealth has been transferred outside of the borders and has left Ugandans little to pursue in real economic opportunities. Today’s Ugandans have absolutely no chance of economic independence, which is why they migrate to every other country from Europe to the Middle East and to the U.S. They take up occupations such as housekeepers and home health aides even though many are well educated with some holding advanced college degrees. As someone with a postgraduate degree who has moved, the only shot I have to a job now in the U.S. is to be a home health aide.

The IMF must enact stricter accountability measures in dealing with African dictators such as Museveni who do not derive the mandate to rule their countries from their people but rather from western funding sources including corporations as well as the IMF and the World Bank. So long as there are outstanding agreements with these organizations, the elections and public opinion of the African citizens in respective countries do not matter. The continent is plagued by politicians who have long overstayed their effectiveness as governing autocrats who increasingly resort to violence and suppression, especially in apolitical crises such as the current pandemic.

If there was a normally functioning government in Uganda, the country’s citizens would welcome the news of the IMF loan during such a crisis. However, Ugandans know all too well the pain that the most recent IMF loans will cause. Only in the eyes of the West is Museveni still viewed as a legitimate head of state. That gesture of legitimacy matters to the octogenarian autocrat as Uganda prepares for its next elections.

Already, with news of the most recent IMF loan, Museveni has suggested in a TV interview that he might postpone the 2021 elections. To the Ugandans’ dismay, this means that the IMF will not press the issue and blindly accept the government’s assurances that the loan proceeds were disbursed for the public health interests of the citizens.

International journalist, migrant activist and TED Fellow Yasin Kakande is the author of Why We Are Coming, which explores the historical and contemporary reasons why African migrants leave their own countries for Western nations. It is available now on Amazon in paperback and eBook formats, priced £15.43 and £4.64 respectively. For more information, visit

You can read an exclusive extract from Why We Are Coming, about how President Museveni’s rise to power in Uganda was backed by Western nations, here

How the present day land-grabbing in Africa is forcing thousands to migrate to Europe

IN THIS exclusive excerpt from his new book Why We Are Coming, author Yasin Kakande—an international journalist, migrant activist and TED Fellow—lays bare the shocking truth about the Western exploitation of Africa that is the root cause of Africans choosing to leave their homelands for the UK, US and other developed nations. 

Across Africa many Western investors, including Wall Street bankers and wealthy individuals, are rushing in to acquire agricultural land and are displacing hundreds of thousands of Africans.  This shift places the food system in Africa in the hands of a few Western corporations whose interests are, first and foremost, economic gain.

The list of these recent acquisitions is long and still many of these shady deals are going unreported. Here are a few reported cases which are as graphic; The American investor Philippe Heilberg signed a farmland deal with Paulino Matip, a Sudanese warlord, to lease 400,000 hectares of land (an area the size of Dubai ) in South Sudan in July 2008. South Korean conglomorate Daewoo announced it was leasing 1.3 million hectares (3.2 million acres) of Madagascar for 99 years for about $12 an acre in 2008. In Southern Uganda about the 14,000 villagers who were evicted from their land when the Ugandan government leased 8,000 hectares of land to a Norwegian timber company (Green Resources) in the forest area of Bukaleba. British’s Tullow acquired 102,500 hectares in Lake Albert Rift basin to explore oil.

“The west’s acquisition of continental land is a threat to African economies and livelihoods”

In 2017, the Ugandan government tabled a land bill amendment proposal on compulsory acquisition of land for public use, and that it may deposit in court a befitting sum for the land it wants to acquire from the owner. President Yoweri Museveni, a western corporate puppet went on broadcast outlets to explain to the citizens that the amendments are framed for the country’s better interests, and that the government taking over land from owners they deem not suitable for agriculture and giving it to investors ultimately will bring in more revenue to Uganda. Designating some parcels as public land has been the easiest way African leaders have facilitated the land grab in their countries and then they would hand over that land to foreign investors with not so much of a fair compensation to the previous African land owners.

The African leaders who are handing over fertile African land with easy access to water to Western corporations are doing the same thing that colonialists did in earlier times when they designated millions of acres as public land. In Kenya after the highlands were declared “crown land” the British colonialists handed over to Lord Delamere 100,000 acres at a cost of a penny per acre. Lord Francis Scott purchased 350,000 acres and the East African Syndicate Ltd. took 100,000 acres, all at give-away prices. In Liberia in 1926, the Firestone Rubber Company acquired a million acres of forest land at a cost of six cents per acre. And in The Congo King Leopold II issued decrees that designated all free parcels as government land — in effect as his own property, sole proprietorship. He amassed all parcels that natives had not cultivated but instead set aside as hunting grounds or as a plentiful source of wood for building, or for mining iron ore to be used in tools and weapons. The 21st century has seen that practice continue, albeit in a different form.

“The future is much darker than what even analysts have predicted”

Even though it is important to invest in the African agricultural sector, the West’s acquisition of continental land is a threat to African economies and livelihoods. Evidence shows that these land deals often lack transparency and are frequently mismanaged by governments. Smallholder farmers who are the majority in Africa are being displaced in the process. These farmers are starting to realize what the foreign investors are doing to their livelihoods, and with nothing much to do many are resorting to migration to these countries.

In Africa the European and American foreigners own the land, mines, banks, factories, fuel stations, airlines, and all the wealth coming from these sources are shipped or transferred to the West and what is left in Africa for Africans? What do the citizens of African countries have in their countries to keep them home not to emigrate – nothing or too little to sustain their families even on the most modest expectations. This is worsened by the fact that even prospective means like employment that would give them the opportunity to own their titles and deeds to land are nonexistent. At least they can see prospects of employment even in menial jobs in the West or in Middle East countries, much less than the potential to collaborate and start their own enterprises.

African resources are fast becoming depleted and its population is growing at a faster corresponding pace. By 2050, it is predicted the population in most African countries will have doubled and the continent will have almost depleted all of its resources. The future is much darker than what even analysts have predicted and, for sure, more African migrants will continue trying to get to Europe or the U.S. where their resources have built stable economies. Europe and America are already definitely concerned about these demographics and more worried because even family planning strategies that have been promoted in the continent for a long time have not had any yields. Europe and the U.S. stand alone to address honestly the exploitation of Africa and demand from their corporations honest and decent trade practices with the continent.

Why We Are Coming by Yasin Kakande is out now, priced £15.43 in paperback and £4.64 as an eBook (£4.64). Visit Amazon. For more information, visit

Museveni’s ascent to power on a tide of covert western influence

In this exclusive excerpt from his new book ‘Why We Are Coming’, international journalist, migrant activist and TED Fellow Yasin Kakande examines how the British Government was complicit in bringing Yoweri Museveni to power in Uganda.

PICTURED: President Museveni (Photo: Russell Watkins/Department for International Development)

HE OVERTURNED Uganda’s Independence and expanded his master’s imperialist rule across Africa

Every time the Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni talks about his ascendancy to power, he paints an image akin to a Hollywood movie in which he jumps and dodges all the bullets aimed at him in a war and finally he turns around and takes over all his enemies. This tale creates an image of an invincible man and his overstay to power amidst running a repressive and corrupt government adds confusion. That desperate Ugandans are giving up all hopes of ever changing the fate of their country and instead the migrate into servitude in the Middle East, Europe and USA.

To understand Museveni’s overstay. one needs to first study the European role in his rise a few years after Africans received independence and how he is paying back with surrendering almost all the country’s natural resources and businesses to western corporations.

While chatting his road to power in his autobiographical novel ‘Sowing the Mustard Seed’, Museveni revealed how the western world, especially the United Kingdom, assisted him to rise to power. He recounts how important it was for him in his earlier days of his rebellion to establish contacts with British politicians such as Lord Carrington and Richard Luce, then Minister of State for Overseas Development in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. Luce had reluctantly advised Museveni to accept the 1980 Ugandan election results, but Museveni insisted his strategy of challenging the results with an armed conflict was worthwhile. Luce reversed his initial recommendation and a partnership of sorts was born.

The relationship was embarrassing and potentially destructive not only to Museveni but also to the British. Museveni recalls visits to London in which the British Government insisted that his presence in the country should remain discreet, concealing him in hotels away from public attention. But despite this reticence Museveni had won the undeclared support of the British Government and soon he was in a position to speak to radio interviewers at the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), announcing that the U.S. as well as Britain, would support his insurgent bush operation against President Milton Obote’s Marxist-leaning regime. Indeed, Britain was among the first to allow Museveni’s rebel group—the National Resistance Movement (NRM)—to establish an office of operations in their country. Soon after, the U.S. and Sweden also officially cut off ties with Obote’s government and allowed Museveni’s rebel group to establish offices in their countries that later would become embassies for Uganda. Museveni’s path to power, though winding, was now clear.

OUT NOW: Yasin Kakande’s book Why We Are Coming

Obote understood that Museveni’s strength was generated by the massive support he received from foreign governments. Britain’s patronage was as discreet as possible. This was, after all, interference in the internal politics of a sovereign nation that had only recently been her colony. And this in an era where the architecture of the post-world war order—based as it was on the principle of sovereignty—remained largely intact, at least in theory. Proxy wards were common, especially in Africa, but the plausible deniability remained de rigueur. African nations, by contrast observed no limits in professing their support for Museveni’s rebel campaign, although the African leaders that supported Museveni were, of course, those with warm relationships with the UK: Kenya’s Arap Moi, Libya’s Moammar Gadhafi, and Tanzania’s Mwalimu Julius Nyerere.

Obote was careful not to attack Britain openly but rather targeted his political rhetoric toward surrounding African governments, accusing them of advancing the West’s imperialist agenda on the continent. Never diplomatic, Moi responded to the accusations during the 18th Kenyan National Day celebrations that he could if he chose topple Obote’s teetering regime, in just minutes. In an even more personal provocation, Moi addressed the absent Obote with advice that he should meet Museveni’s rebels as they were only 10 miles from his Kampala residence.

Museveni was indeed busy as Moi and Obote jousted. He travelled to Libya via Nairobi after crossing Lake Victoria by boat and when in Tripoli he met Gadhafi, who was then still in good standing with the European powers. The two were once bitter rivals, as Gadhafi has been a principal supporter of Idi Amin, Uganda’s notorious dictator whom Museveni had fought and helped to oust. Despite being divided by personal experience they were united not only in a political goal—the ousting of Obote—but in their roles as actual and aspirant client dictators. To cement this relationship Gadhafi assured the rebels that he would support them with money and weapons to oust the Obote government in Kampala. And he was true to his word, giving them 800 rifles, 45 RPG launchers, 100 antitank landmines, as well as machine guns and mortars. The consignment of weapons entered Uganda through Burundi.

The cost of removing Obote had been high. The death toll for Museveni’s bush war was estimated to be 300,000 by his Western funders and predictably enough the blame for those casualties was leveled exclusively at the defeated figure of Obote. But power rarely pauses to mourn and Museveni was proclaimed not only the new leader of Uganda, but the representative of a new type of leader: someone the West could do business with; one of a new generation of Africa leaders to replace the “Big Men.”

On assuming power, Museveni’s preeminent objective was to prove Uganda’s reliability as a security partner to the West in East and Central Africa. As a consequence, the Ugandan President became directly involved in regional conflicts, acting as the political equivalent of a brokerage firm for rebels, insurgencies, and peace missions. Wherever there was a conflict in the region the West did not have to enter directly, Museveni was available to send in Uganda troops to support the side most amenable to Western interests, and acted as a principal negotiator on behalf of the U.S. or European nation involved.

Why We Are Coming by Yasin Kakande is out now, priced £15.43 in paperback and £4.64 as an eBook (£4.64). Visit Amazon. For more information, visit

The Telegraph: African jobseekers changing their names to overcome ‘racist’ recruiters

African jobseekers changing their names to overcome ‘racist’ recruiters, author claims in new book

Yasin Kakande reveals that applicants are also swapping traditional African names with anglicised versions to improve recruitment chances

African jobseekers are “whitening” their CVs by Photoshopping their skin and changing their names to overcome “racist” recruiters, an author has claimed in a new book.

Yasin Kakande, a Ugandan born migration expert and Reuters journalist, said some black applicants are digitally modifying their profile images to give the appearance of lighter skin to avoid a “colour cull” from discriminatory employers in the UK.

Mr Kakande, 39, also revealed that traditional African names are being replaced with anglicised versions, including Dafari for David and Salama for Sarah, as jobseekers suggest they are of dual-heritage to try and improve their recruitment prospects.

For his latest book ‘Why We Are Coming’, he interviewed 1006 academically qualified African job applicants aged between 21 and 50 over three years and found that 90 percent changed their resumes to conceal ethnic features….

[Read the full article on the Telegraph website.]

Allow the Migrants to Speak Up Against Hate

By Yasin Kakande

Last Friday night, my younger brother Wahab insisted we should lock the doors to our single bedroom apartment we share in Acton, Massachusetts. For almost two years we have stayed in the same apartment; we always closed the doors but only locked them once in a while. But, after the mosque terrorist attack that killed 50 migrant Muslim worshipers in Christchurch, New Zealand by Brenton Harrison Tarrant, 28, a self-proclaimed white nationalist, closing and locking our doors before going to sleep will be our new routine.

“You never know who might attack. White nationalists are taking their hatred to another level,” he said. “Whoever would want to attack, let’s not give them an easy entrance.”

The Christchurch terrorist act, albeit thousands of miles away, has reinforced legitimate fears among migrants and non-white citizens. The rising volume of white nationalist ideology and rhetoric from politicians and media platforms around the world always have concerned migrants and non-white citizens of the growing risks of discrimination in all sectors of life. Compounding them is the reality-based fear of recurring violence and murder, where even the sanctity of a place for prayer and meditation can no longer be guaranteed.

Many will have to eye and observe carefully, whomever approaches them. Some will avoid altogether the opportunities for congregation at prayer calls or parties, where the majority are people of color and migrants. Parents also must worry about yet another dimension of the children’s safety at schools.

Violent groups that espouse ideology of white nationalists are rising not just in Europe but also the U.S. and virtually everywhere in the world. These concerns and fears do not discriminate, as victims are both migrants and citizens and are Muslims, Jews, Christians, Blacks, Latinos, Arabs, Africans, women and school children. Others are targeted for enlightened political views that confound the advancement of the white nationalist movement.

These angry white men draw their strength from elected politicians, academics and media executives and personalities who join in condemning violent attacks but do so in general platitudes that avoid calling out the ideology that has propelled these attacks. The restraint and silence are telling and, inevitably, these same politicians return as predicted to espousing their anger about immigration, reassuring their base they need not worry about them straying from the movement. It is similar to an individual saying Hitler had a point but was wrong to use systematic mass genocide. Or, one would claims to agree with the ideology of Osama bin Laden’s followers but not the way he sought to achieve it.

They describe immigration as an ‘invasion’, couched in hateful words that resonated with white nationalists who rewarded like-minded politicians by electing them to office. While elected officials have attempted strenuously to use legal means of travel and migrant bans as well as deportations, others have resorted to their own actions – mass murder.

As an African, black, Muslim and immigrant in the U.S., I am disturbed but the worst part is how the whole narrative of immigration is shaped and owned by people who believe it to be an immense problem. The white far-right conservatives seek a complete ban on immigration through building of walls, incarcerations and deportation of immigrants versus the white left and moderate liberals who believe border patrols and stricter immigration rules can suffice in restricting immigrants. However, there virtually is no voice for immigrants in this global debate.

If immigrants were given a chance to speak, they could explain in humane, convincing, reasonable language about their value and roles in their host countries, which inevitably touch many, many lives – ironically, including those of white nationalists. These include the value of their jobs in developing their economies and the social bonds they build with families as they always are on hand as nannies for infants and children or their presence as caregivers for the elderly and terminally ill.

Immigrants should not have to wait on sympathizers to respond on their behalf against this bigotry. It would be a small yet significant step if editors and gatekeepers of media platforms gave immigrants the opportunity to amplify their voices and stories.

Yasin Kakande is a 2018 TED Fellow and author of an upcoming book ‘Why Are We Coming,’ exploring the long history and current developments of global migration patterns as they apply to Africans.