Luciano Baguma's tragic ending: How Bushenyi men suffer in silence under violent wives

“She hit me so hard with a herding stick that I could barely move. I was lying on the ground, paralysed. Then, she poured local brew on me as if to celebrate her victory,” Luciano Baguma narrates, his voice trembling as he describes one of the many violent encounters with his wife, Grace Kyomutima.

When Monitorconducted this interview, in a safe environment far from his home in Swazi III village, Kyamuhunga sub-county, in Bushenyi District, the 54-year-old opened up about his ordeal, showing the scars on his body.

The scars are a testament to years of physical abuse. However, the emotional toll runs even deeper. He speaks with a mix of relief and fear, knowing that this is one of the rare moments he can share his story without the risk of reprimand or retaliation from his wife.

Baguma’s ordeal began decades earlier in what was supposed to be a happy marriage. He married Kyomutima in 1992, and over the years, they raised six children. The eldest is now 29 while the youngest is 18.

For a while, their marriage seemed stable, even as challenges came their way. However, in 1998, six years after their wedding, disagreements started brewing over a piece of land that Baguma’s late father had gifted him.

“My father gave me five acres of land before he passed away. I wanted us to establish a banana and coffee plantation on it, but my wife refused to help,” he recounts.

Baguma established the plantation on his own, and within a few years, it was thriving. He says his wife started claiming co-ownership of the land and the harvest.

“She said the land and everything on it belonged to the family, not just to me, and denied me access to the plantation. She said she was in charge. As the tensions grew, the thriving plantation fell into neglect. The bananas and coffee dried up. We had to start buying food, which – to me – was devastating,” he laments.

The disputes over land and property escalated, with Kyomutima exerting more control. According to Baguma, she began harvesting the remaining crops and using the proceeds without consulting him. When he confronted her, she turned a deaf ear.  Increasingly, he felt powerless.

In February 2021, their disagreements took a darker turn. Kyomutima, suspicious that Baguma was having an affair with a female worker he had hired to help rejuvenate the farm, confronted him one evening at their bar.

“She accused me of being unfaithful, but it was not true. I was just trying to get the farm back on its feet. That night, the argument spiraled out of control when she picked up a herding stick and hit me on the head. I thought I was going to die,” he recalls.

As he lay helpless and in pain, the mother of his children poured local brew all over him, an act he describes as humiliating and degrading.

“I ran to my mother’s house that night. She took me to a health center, where I spent two days recovering. I fled to Kakumiro district, where I remained for over a year. But eventually, I returned, hoping that my wife had changed her ways,” Baguma says.

His hopes were quickly dashed, though, when his wife hit him again, injuring his head twice and breaking his fingers during another fight.

Denial of conjugal rights

Despite the abuse, the hapless man tried to rebuild his life, establishing a liquor business in a small room in Rubirizi district. However, Kyomutima’s suspicions followed him there.

“She thought I had a woman in Rubirizi so she called my landlord and instructed him to lock the shop, claiming I was hiding another woman there,” Baguma explains.

When he returned home after losing access to his shop, Kyomutima confronted him. “I wanted to take my motorcycle and leave, but she descended on it with a panga (machete) and slashed open the tyres. She was determined to keep me trapped,” he says.

The violence extended beyond physical abuse. The wife also denied her husband his conjugal rights for months at a time. To access her body, he had to bribe her with gifts or money.

“I have to seduce her like she is not my wife just to be allowed to fulfill my duties as a man. Right now, I have gone more than six months without intimacy. This situation is frustrating and makes me feel like I am not even a man,” he laments.

Attempts to seek help from family and local leaders have yielded little. All the couple’s children refuse to intervene, fearing they will be seen to take sides.

“They told me to sort out my issues because she was my wife. They agree that their mother is not someone to joke with, because she has a lot of power in the home. They have witnessed her slashing down the bananas in our plantation because she was angry at something,” the father says.

Local council leaders, including the LCI chairperson, Aggrey Masumbuko, tried mediating the couple’s disputes but were unsuccessful.

“She always cried during those meetings, especially when there was a police officer around, and people would feel sorry for her. When the local leaders left the home, she would beat him. Even when she beats him in public, nothing happens to her,” Masumbuko says.

According to him, Kyomutima is the women’s representative on the LCI council and uses her position to avoid accountability.

“That is not a woman. She has taught our wives bad manners. None of them cooks for us. Instead, they spend the evenings in discos at the trading centre. They even beat husbands who demand for supper,” Masumbuko adds.

Even as Monitor conducted this interview, Kyomutima threatened to beat up the community development officer who had come to urge her to treat her husband humanely.

The psychological torment

Baguma’s plight made him a target of ridicule in the community, with people laughing at him and calling him a weak man who cannot control his wife.

“Sometimes, a friend would take me to a bar and buy me a drink, as a way of consoling me. But somehow, my wife would find out where we were and she would come in and pour the alcohol. She does not want me to talk to any man, saying they will teach me how to commit adultery,” he says.

As a precaution, he spends the night at his mother’s home or at his son’s home. Whenever he spends the night with his wife, he makes sure to prepare his own meals.

“I fear that she can poison me. I expect this situation to get worse so since we were wedded in church, I want the authorities to help me get a divorce and share our property. I am scared that she will kill me. At first, I was scared of the shame that would come from my opening up about this situation, but I do not want to die in silence,” Baguma laments.

Baguma’s story is not unique to Swazi III village. Another resident, Livingstone Musinguzi, shares his own experience of physical abuse.

“My wife cut me on the head with a machete and bit my nose during an argument over money. I cannot report her to the police because no one will believe me. Police officers always side with women in such cases,” he says.

The 38-year-old, who has been married for 14 years, says he has learned to endure the abuse in silence.

“She once told me that she will kill me, so I run away whenever she gets violent. I cannot fight back because the police will arrest me. I just want peace, but I do not know how to get it. I am scared for my life,” he explains.

Faith Amanya Betega, the senior probation and social welfare officer for Bushenyi district, acknowledges that domestic violence against men is a growing but underreported issue.

“In our society, men tend to have egos that make them keep quiet even when they are suffering. They are not socialised to report. Even those who find the courage to report their ordeal are pulled down by society, which asks, ‘Are you man enough? How can you be battered?’” she explains.

By the time men like Baguma speak out, they are emotionally exhausted by the abuse and are depressed. Some are even pushed to the wall to retaliate by killing their wives.

“When you look at Baguma you can see that he is resigned, withdrawn. The community has labeled him. People even fear to go to visit him in his home because they know his wife is capable of violence,” Batega says.

On average, Batega handles three cases of male victims of domestic violence in a week but being a referral point, she believes the numbers are much higher at the local authority levels in the sub-counties.

“When some men report to the local council, the chairman tells them to bring witnesses and members of the community. How many men want society to witness their shame? Some chairmen do not even have the confidence or capacity to support such men,” she laments.

Batega’s office is now sensitising men on radio talk shows, urging them to talk about their problems and not remain silent or take the law into their own hands.

Sad ending

Baguma’s story has a tragic end. Two weeks ago, as this story was being edited, he was involved in a fatal road accident on his way from Ishaka town.

His death shocked the community, with many attributing it to the stress and trauma he endured in his marriage.

“He was always on the run, never settled. The violence wore him down,” Masumbuko says.

Baguma’s story is a stark reminder of the human cost of domestic violence. It highlights the urgent need for society to address this issue without bias or judgment. In Swazi III village and beyond, the message is clear: domestic violence affects everyone, and it is time to stand up for all victims, regardless of gender.

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