The Independent Uganda: You get the Truth we Pay the Price
Kampala, Uganda | THE INDEPENDENT | The heavy wooden doors of St. Mary’s Cathedral, Lubaga, had barely closed after the 1 p.m. Mass when a fresh wave of worshippers began to stream in. They arrived first in small groups, then in clusters, their footsteps steady on the stone floor. A special Mass intended to pray for detained opposition figure Kizza Besigye had been officially postponed—but the congregation came regardless.
Church authorities had earlier announced that the prayer would not proceed as scheduled, a decision reportedly influenced by direct engagement from the government. By early afternoon, however, the cathedral was filling again. Supporters moved with coordination. Some acted as informal ushers. Salam Musumba and Dr. Lulume Bayiga, both leaders in the People’s Front for Freedom, guided attendees into pews, row by row.
The choir loft remained empty. The organ stayed silent. Yet the rest of the cathedral approached full capacity, charged with anticipation. Musumba walked near the sanctuary and raised her hand to call the congregation to order. Without microphones or instruments, she struck the opening lines of “Ekitibwa kya Maria.” The Marian hymn rose from hundreds of voices. The absence of a choir made little difference; the congregation sang in full voice.
After the hymn, Winnie Byanyima, the wife of Dr. Kizza Besigye, stepped forward. She stood before the altar steps, her voice barely carrying across the cathedral’s vast interior. Byanyima urged the congregation to remain prayerful and to respect the sanctity of the cathedral, reminding them of the reason for their gathering. “We have come to a holy place to pray for a man in prison and others who are suffering,” she said. “We bring petitions for those detained and those whose whereabouts remain unknown.”
She told the congregation that on Sunday, she had received communication from Archbishop Paul Ssemogerere, who informed her that President Museveni personally requested that the prayers be halted, citing ongoing investigations. The Archbishop had agreed to postpone the Mass pending the conclusion of those inquiries. The disclosure drew murmurs from parts of the congregation. Some shook their heads; others bowed. Byanyima reflected on Uganda’s political history, noting that she had never witnessed a president intervene to prevent citizens from praying for someone. The country had endured conflict, coups, and contested elections, yet places of worship had always remained spaces of comfort. She described the reported directive to halt the prayers as an abuse of authority. Preventing citizens from gathering in a church to pray for detainees, she said, crossed the line between state power and religious freedom.
“Prayer is neither a crime nor an act of insurrection,” she said, “but an appeal to conscience and faith.” Byanyima then asked whether any priest present would lead the congregation in prayer. None stepped forward. Several priests, in clerical collars, observed silently from the back of the church. Invoking Catholic teaching on the shared priesthood of the baptized, she said she would lead the prayers herself.
“I am a Catholic. I have received the sacraments. If there is no priest to lead us, I will lead the prayer,” she stated. She led intercessions for prisoners, families of the disappeared, and the nation. The prayers were concise and deliberate, without sermon or homily. When the prayers concluded, she instructed the congregation to leave peacefully. As attendees rose and filed out, a new hymn took shape: “We Shall Overcome.” One line resonated above the rest: “One day the Church will be free.” The singing continued down the wide steps of Lubaga Hill and spilled into the cathedral compound. Outside, priests stood in small clusters, silently observing the departing crowd. Among the supporters, one phrase repeatedly emerged: “Never surrender.”
Earlier in the day, quiet consultations had taken place behind closed doors. Our reporter observed Byanyima and several PFF leaders meeting officials at the Kampala Archdiocesan offices, including Chancellor Rev. Fr. Pius Male Ssentumbwe. The discussion lasted several minutes, and though the details were not audible, both sides appeared calm upon exiting. Handshakes, smiles, and nods suggested an understanding had been reached. Sources later indicated that following the cancellation of the planned 2 p.m. special Mass, the group had been advised to attend the routine 1 p.m. weekday service, which would have drawn no unusual attention. “If they had organized well, they could have prayed during the daily Mass without raising questions,” a source familiar with the discussions said. “But I think they wanted to make a bigger statement—and they have made it.”
Outside the cathedral, the mood was solemn. Some congregants stood silently, rosaries clasped; others folded their arms, gazing back at the church doors. One attendee remarked to his neighbor that he had not expected such a scene within the Catholic Church, a sentiment echoed in small clusters across the compound. On the cathedral steps, opposition leaders gathered, appearing poised to address the media. Cameras were positioned; reporters edged closer. For a moment, it seemed a statement would be delivered from the church entrance. The leaders conferred briefly, then changed course, announcing that they would instead address the press from Pope Paul VI Memorial Hotel, a short distance from the cathedral grounds.
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