by In Uganda, it is now forty years since President Yoweri Museveni captured power, and he has ruled ever since. When his National Resistance Army (NRA) fought its way into power in January 1986, unease swept through Namokora — a remote community 500 kilometres north of Kampala and the birthplace of the ousted president, Tito Okello Lutwa. Seven months later, that unease turned to horror. A brutal massacre unfolded, claiming 68 lives. Bodies lay unburied for weeks as scavengers tore at the remains. Nearly four decades later, the cries for justice still echo unanswered.
Researchers at Gulu University are now revisiting the incident, documenting testimonies from survivors, witnesses and victims’ families as part of efforts to preserve the historical record and inform ongoing discussions about recognition, justice and reparations.
Testimonies
Seated outside the house where he lived as a young man in Guruguru village, Atanansio Oyet, now 61, recalls the experience vividly.
“On the morning of August 19, one soldier whispered that we were going to be killed. Soon after, the soldiers formed two lines from our detention room to a parked lorry, beating us with clubs, gun butts, and kicks as we ran and climbed aboard. You had to grab a hanging rope while those already inside pulled you up. As we left Namokora Centre, a woman at the back held her head in her hands. Suddenly, she jumped off and ran into the bush. Another man jumped too, but he fell badly and couldn’t move. Then a few others and I jumped. The soldiers in the escort car behind us opened fire, killing people — those running and those still in the lorry,” narrates Oyet.
Oyet was rounded up from his home on August 15 in what appeared to be a random operation. He was taken to a small church room in Namokora trading centre, where others from Namokora and neighbouring sub-counties were being detained. They were subjected to torture during interrogations about guns and soldiers from the toppled regime. When he eventually returned to his village, it was deserted. His family and neighbours were hiding on a hill known as Akara. They remained in hiding for three months, venturing cautiously back to their homes only to harvest food.
Uthant Okot was only 16 and a boarding student at Kitgum High School when the massacre occurred. His father, Yonah Yesalom Okot, was among those killed — despite being an NRA collaborator and the Resistance Council III (RCIII) chairman for Namokora Subcounty under the new regime.
Yonah had fled Uganda’s capital Kampala after the overthrow of Lutwa. Having lived in the city for many years, he spoke both Luganda and Swahili. This made him the first point of contact between the NRA — reportedly commanded by Captain Matovu, whose name suggests he is a Muganda — and the Acholi-speaking community of northern Uganda.
“The NRA soldiers arrived around April or May 1986,” recalls Okot. “Our people feared there would be retaliation. Many had fled — some to Southern Sudan — but the soldiers came with a friendly approach. They would even play football with the kids here.”
For months, the soldiers seemed friendly, and people returned from hiding. But in July, an ambush on NRA troops by remnants of Tito Okello’s Uganda National Liberation Army (UNLA) reportedly took place at a centre called Akilok in Namokora sub county. It shattered that fragile calm.
The massacre
“Once some NRA soldiers were killed in the ambush, everything changed. Between August 10 and 15, they began rounding up villagers from Namokora and nearby sub-counties. Whoever they saw was now considered a rebel. They went on a rampage — killing people, raping women, and destroying granaries. Those they arrested were packed into a small church room at Namokora Mission — men and women alike,” said Okot.
August 19 was a Tuesday, a market day in Namokora. People had come from surrounding sub-counties, including Orom, Omiya Anyima, Kitgum Matidi, Wol, Omiya Pachar, and Lagoro. Around 100 people were forced onto the lorry. This included those already detained in the church, as well as others who had just been rounded up. The massacre unfolded about 1 km from Namokora Centre, at a place called Wii Gweng, when some captives began jumping from the truck.
Twenty-eight people were killed at this spot. Among them was Okot’s father. Okot’s uncle, James Akena, who had been arrested with his brother, survived the massacre despite major injuries. After his escape, he lived in an abandoned house for two weeks before being rescued and taken to Kalongo Hospital in Agago District.
The smell of death hung over Namokora for weeks, until an Italian missionary priest, Fr. Tarsicio Pazzaglia, mobilised some people in the neighbourhood, collecting and burying the decomposing bodies in a mass grave, today marked with a monument. Other killings occurred away from this site, with some who had escaped the truck being pursued.
The long silence
What followed the massacre was even greater chaos, fuelled by the subsequent rebellions of Alice Lakwena’s Holy Spirit Movement and Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). For two decades, northern Uganda was engulfed in violence — marked by more massacres, kidnappings, and the mass displacement of almost the entire Acholi population into internally displaced people’s camps. The memories of Namokora were buried under years of hardship, where mere survival became an achievement.
The quest for justice
But those memories resurfaced during the 2011 general elections, when one of the survivors aspiring for LCIII chairperson of Namokora Subcounty placed the massacre at the centre of his manifesto. Charles Onen was a boy when the killings happened. His uncle, Ben Nyeko, was killed, and his parents fled with him to Kalenga (then a subcounty, now a district).
“When I went into politics in 2011, the Namokora massacre was the main item on my agenda. I told people that if you elect me, I will make sure our people who were massacred get justice. They elected me,” said Onen.
Under Onen’s leadership, the survivors and relatives of the victims formed the Namokora United Relatives of the Massacred and Survivors Association (NURMSA), officially launching it in 2012. They unanimously elected Onen as their chairperson. Their main aim was to honour the dead and seek justice for what had happened — justice they primarily hoped would come in the form of compensation.
They drafted a constitution, compiled lists of victims and survivors, and set out to lobby and agitate for justice. They also began holding annual memorial prayers, the first on August 19, 2013, reportedly attended by more than 1,000 people.
Politics
What Onen had hoped would be a turning point instead deepened local political tensions. The massacre issue was swallowed by local political feuds, which Onen believes helped keep it invisible. In 2016, he chose not to seek re-election for the Namokora LC3 seat and also stepped down as NURMSA chair.
“That [NURMSA] was the beginning of real threats to my life. I met a lot of resistance from the district chair, Luka Nyeko, and the area Member of Parliament, Henry Okello Oryem. The only person who supported me was Beatrice Anyar, then Woman MP for Kitgum. During the memorial service, I told people: ‘I am making my will today. No one should take my body to my father’s home. Let my body be buried close to the victims.’”
Ironically, one of the people he accuses — Oryem — is the son of the late President Tito Okello, has ancestral roots in Namokora, and has served in the Museveni’s government since 2001. He currently holds the position of Minister of State for Foreign Affairs (International Cooperation).
“They intimidated me. They would use anonymous numbers to send threatening messages: ‘You are fighting the government. We shall deal with you.’ They organised to remove me from power. Even leaders from my own subcounty opposed me. Government programmes were withheld from me. Even Northern Uganda Social Action Fund 2 (NUSAF 2) support did not reach us. I had to take another step. I became very tired — every day was a fight. After I was removed [from the NURMSA Chair], the LC5 chair took over but died. His vice took over, and that one dropped the initiative.”
Efforts to reach Oryem were unsuccessful, as he did not respond to requests for an interview on the matter sent through his known telephone number.
The current push
The NURMSA mantle is now carried by Uthant Okot, who lost his father in the massacre but worked his way up to become the District Agriculture Officer for Kitgum. He was elected chairperson in 2023 during the annual memorial prayers, to serve a three-year term.
“We verified and updated the lists. We have 28 who died at the Wei Gweng site, 40 killed within the subcounties, and 31 survivors. We are now spreading our tentacles. We have taken the issue to the Chief Justice, Owiny-Dollo, whom we met in June 2024; to Lillian Aber [the current Woman MP for Kitgum and State Minister for Relief, Disaster Preparedness and Refugees]; and to the DISO and the RDC — they all know our issue. Even Nobert Mao [Minister of Justice and Constitutional Affairs] is now in the know,” says Okot.
Expert perspectives
Dr. Stella Laloyo Apecu, Chief of the Institute of Peace and Strategic Studies (IPSS) at Gulu University and Head of the Centre of Excellence in Transitional Justice and Refugee Studies, says the government’s failure to provide reparations for the Namokora massacre reflects a culture of impunity.
“This is one of the neglected transitional justice sites in the Acholi sub-region, just like Atiak and Mucwini. It was the NRA that caused their pain, and that same institution remains in power. It is also clear that what happened was payback because this was Tito Okello’s home area. Whatever happened was intentional — not a mistake. It was a clear act of revenge.
“Because it involved the ruling government, people even fear to tell their stories. The survivors are now elderly, and some have already died. The government needs to provide reparations. It has taken far too long,” she says.
Dr. Agatha Alidri, a Senior Lecturer in the Department of History at Gulu University, and one of the researchers documenting the testimonies, says the Namokora massacre reflects the broader challenges that have shaped Uganda’s post-colonial governments and their armies.
“At the centre of this is ethnicity. The massacre reflects Uganda’s deep-rooted north–south political divide. It highlights how ethnicity continues to shape both the armed forces and the state.
“The fact that it happened in the home of a former president speaks volumes. Innocent people were killed, and the government must remain accountable. The reality is that the NRM government, whose army committed the massacre, is still in power. It carries the responsibility to ensure healing,” she says.
Will justice come?
Onen, the man who initiated the push for accountability and compensation for Namokora victims and survivors, remains hopeful that the momentum built under NURMSA will eventually yield results.
“I have invested a lot in this cause at a personal level. We prepared a position paper on the victims, and I have made sure the documentation reaches all the relevant places. I am confident that one day this will bear fruit,” he says.
While Onen remains hopeful, whether justice will come may ultimately depend on the willingness of the Ugandan state to confront unresolved chapters of its own history. For the survivors of Namokora, the passage of time has not erased the memory of what happened — only the urgency of addressing it.
William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda, and the Chairman of Uganda Science Journalists’ Association (USJA).
