Terror victim mistaken for terrorist

Michael Katagaya’s face is a contrast of emotions as we sit in the serene gardens of Forest Cottages, Bukoto – joy, sobriety, laughter, and then, melancholy. Streaks of sunlight stream through the leafy canopy. At midday, it is 28°C. Not once does he lose the animation with which he tells his captivating story – his eyes glowing behind his spectacles.
“My surname means I’m a man of honour, who does not despise himself,” says the 31-year-old. The belief is that African names foretell character. As Katagaya’s story unfolds, it is clear his parents named him with some kind of premonition in mind.
In September 2010, Katagaya, then working with The Judicial Commission of Inquiry into the Mismanagement of Funds under UPE and USE, met a Kenyan businessman, David Njuguna, in Lira District. “There was a (trade) show and jua kali artisans were showcasing their products. I bought four pairs of sandals at Shs20,000 each from David. My colleagues admired the sandals and bought them at Shs40,000 each. I went into business mode.”
They struck a deal. Instead of Njuguna coming to Uganda, Katagaya would pick the shoes from Kenya. “I told him I should visit his factory in Kenya and if his business was legitimate, we could start a partnership.”
In December 2010, Katagaya travelled to Thika, Kenya and inspected Njuguna’s shoe factory. “I planned to travel back to Kampala on December 20, 2010.” It was a Monday.

Caught in a bomb blast
The Kampala Coach Bus terminal, then was on River Road, a busy area in downtown Nairobi. “I was early, so I entered a restaurant and ordered for a cup of tea. Many buses were loading and offloading people. At about 7.15pm, a boarding call was made for Kampala Coach.”
With a bag in one hand and documents in the other, he joined the queue at the bright red bus, but as he neared the doorway, there was commotion. “Three people in front of me were delaying the check-in process. One was resisting the security check. The guy behind him was calling to the security guards not to check him. There was a bit of a scuffle.”
Suddenly, a loud blast went off and Katagaya was thrown to the ground. He lost consciousness. According to news reports, four men had unsuccessfully attempted to board the bus and instead threw a bag of grenades at its entrance. The blast shuttered the windows of the bus but left the passengers inside unharmed.
“I do not know how long I was out,” Katagaya says, continuing, “When I regained consciousness, people were shouting that a tyre had burst. I sat up. A journalist asked what had happened. I did not know, so he walked off. You know how you people behave. A Red Cross worker said he wanted to take me to the ambulance. I insisted I was not injured. He insisted I was injured.”
The businessman, in his corduroys and oversized white linen shirt, was not in pain.

Crazy aftermath
He asked the Red Cross worker to let him look for his passport first. The request was denied. “There were five of us in the ambulance as it raced to Kenyatta International Hospital. A woman lay motionless on the floor and she was pronounced dead on arrival.”
Katagaya noticed a glass shard in his neighbour’s head that had scooped out his eye. The man was bleeding profusely. “I wondered why I had been brought to such a place. Then, I felt my left leg growing heavy. Confused, I tried to move it but it squelched. I looked down and realised my shoe was filled with blood. I noticed blood on my shirt. Shrapnel had entered my upper body. It dawned on me that something deadly had happened.”
Panicking, he called a family friend, Rev Canon Grace Kaiso, and sent messages to his entire contact list before passing the phone to his neighbour. “Only one friend, Irene Thuo, a Kenyan replied. We had met in high school. She was in South Sudan but sent her family. Reverend Kaiso also visited me and gave me money.”

Arrested for terrorism
Towards morning, Katagaya was discharged to Thuo’s family. He lived with them for two days. “I worried about my family, especially my mother. I told my hosts I wanted to return home. They pointed out that I did not have travel documents but when I insisted, they drove me to the bus terminal.”
The crime scene had been cordoned off. With bandaged legs, he slowly walked to the makeshift police station and told an officer he had lost his passport. “He took me to a room above a restaurant which had three officers. They said they had my passport. I was excited. I recorded a statement but instead of releasing me, they took me to another officer.”
As they held a whispered conference, Katagaya stood apart. In the heat, the strong medication made him dizzy. When he asked what was going on, the police assured him of help. “They brought a police truck and instructed me to board it. I was surrounded by 10 policemen. An escort car followed us. I began panicking but I convinced myself that these policemen were just hitching a ride to headquarters, where my passport was.”
At police headquarters, he was paraded before high level officers. One of them signed on some documents and the prisoner was hustled into a private Toyota Corona by plain clothed operatives. An escort car followed. “They had pistols. When they did not answer my questions, I sent an SMS to Thuo’s sister, Sarah, who is a lawyer. I told her I was a suspect and was being transferred to Kilimani Police Station. She replied immediately, telling me to resist; only dangerous criminals were detained in Kilimani. ”
One operative noticed Katagaya’s phone and grabbed it. They stopped the car and searched the beleaguered detainee, telling him he was a terror suspect. “They sandwiched me in the car, locking the doors, and sped. At Kilimani, they told the officers I had bombed Kampala Coach. The officers were excited; some said I looked innocent. They wrote a statement indicating I was being detained for the murder of 10 and attempted murder of 37. They told me to sign it and then, took my clothes.”
An innocent among criminals
Inside the small cell were 15 men and as Katagaya sat down, he was bombarded. “Ho! You bombed!” “This guy iko supasta!” “Mtoto wa Uganda, you’re terrorist kabisa! That is good!”
“I started crying. I could not eat the posho and the beans swimming in water. I climbed onto the thick window ledge and tried to sleep, but I could not. I was in pain and trauma. Whenever someone banged the door, I heard the bomb blast again …”
He pauses, mid sentence, and then, continues “Oh my God! Sometimes I think it was a joke.”
In the morning, the men discussed their crimes. There were sophisticated fraudsters and Somalis.
One Somali approached Katagaya. “He was tall and light skinned. He asked where I was from and told me to wake up because this was Kenya. He laughed when I asked how long it would take me to be released, saying it could take days, weeks, months, or years. I started crying again. I struggle to slaughter chicken and here I was, being accused of murder.”
The Somali offered to help, but at a fee. “He said he was going to get me a phone, saying it was easier if I had someone fighting for me on the outside. I called my girlfriend and instructed her to call Njuguna.”
An hour later, Njuguna and his wife stood at the police counter. “He asked if I was praising and worshipping (as Apostle Paul did in Acts 16:25). I thought he was insulting me. I turned to walk back but the officer forced me to talk to them. Njuguna told me not to cry because God was sorting out my situation. My faith was tested.”
Njuguna was working with Sarah Thuo to have him in court before 48 hours elapsed. They gave him a pack of food but his cell mates grabbed it and distributed the food amongst themselves, leaving him hungry. “I was weak, dirty, and my bandages were filthy. The wounds were rotting.”
Free at last
At 4pm, Katagaya was called out again. His companions called out, “Mtoto wa Uganda, are you going? You will come back again. Next time, bomb more people!”
Besides Njuguna, high ranking officers were standing outside. At the counter, he was given a release form. “One of the officers said they had spoken to Kenyan ministry of foreign affairs, the government of Uganda, border personnel and the Ugandan ministry of internal affairs. All had cleared me. On behalf of the government of Kenya and the Kenyan people, he apologised for holding me and returned my travel documents.”
Katagaya gave the policemen KShs2,000 (Shs70,000) to pay the Somali man. Njuguna urged him to recuperate, but he insisted on travelling to Kampala immediately. “I had a return ticket so I boarded Kampala Coach. Can you imagine? The same bus? The woman next to me was wearing a hijab and I kept staring at her. It was an uncomfortable journey.”
He travelled to his parents’ home in Iganga District. “I needed a quiet place. Kampala was too noisy. Car hoots or a bird walking on the roof made me want to run. I was going mad. A friend told me about free operations for bomb victims at Nakasero Hospital. Shrapnel was beginning to pop out of my skin. My left leg was operated upon.”
His life today
Given a new lease on life, Katagaya enrolled for a postgraduate in Social Sector Planning and Management at Makerere University, got married, co-leads the Marketplace Ministry at Watoto Church North, and has authored a book, Forearmed: Insights on Sex, Love and Relationships. “Life could have been worse. I could have died, but now, I’m living in my bonus years.”
He continued his partnership with Njuguna for a while; the latter brought the cargo to Uganda. Now, he runs Makanika Dot Com, a tech-based company that connects mechanics to car owners. “I never thought of friends who did not respond to my SMS. I only think of those who came through – Rev Kaiso and Irene.
Nowadays, I try to be there for my friends. And I decided to love Kenya.”
At the time of Katagaya’s arrest, Muslim groups had criticised Kenyan authorities for indiscriminate arrests and rendition of suspects to Uganda to answer for the July 2010 bombings. “Sometimes I wonder; government has swung the bomb suspects between Luzira and court for six years. Some could be innocent; I was arrested by an overzealous policeman but God made a way – the anti-terror police forgot to search me and then, the helpful Somali man.”
Katagaya’s passion is education, and as we drive to town – he to honour a lunch date and me to browse through Aristoc’s collection – we talk about the quandary that is UPE.

Friend says
“We were hanging out at Nandos. A car was parking and it stepped on a plastic bottle. The loud sound made Michael jump. He wanted to run. He kept watching the door and when the guards did not check someone, he would alert us, saying Ugandans are not serious. We were uncomfortable with his sensitivity and the outing soon ended.” Esther Namayanja, friend

Did you know?
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is the most common disorder attributable to those directly affected by a terrorist attack, followed by depression, although other sequel include traumatic grief, panic, phobias, and anxiety disorder. At least 20 per cent are likely still to be experiencing symptoms two years later.
The British Journal of Psychiatry