A soldier pursues Mr Henry Sekanjako near UN rights office in 2021. PHOTO | COURTESY OF HENRY SEKANJAKO’S X HANDLE
Mr Henry Sekanjako is a senior multimedia journalist. In 2021, he was a writer at the New Vision newspaper. He narrates his experience. In 2021, I experienced one of the most harrowing moments of my career as a journalist, an assault while carrying out my professional duties.
That day, I wasn’t just reporting; I was fulfilling a democratic responsibility, giving voice to the public and documenting the realities that shape our nation. Yet, instead of receiving the protection afforded to journalists under both national and international laws, I became a target. The incident unfolded quickly, but the memory is vivid. Alongside fellow journalists, I was identified—press badge visible, notebook at the ready.
There was no mistaking who we were or why we were there. Still, we were subjected to physical force, intimidation, and degrading treatment by individuals who should have safeguarded our presence. In that moment, the message was loud and clear: the press is not welcome—even when we stand in peace, truth, and duty.
That experience was not only painful physically but deeply unsettling emotionally and professionally. It shook my belief in the systems designed to uphold justice and protect rights. I questioned how a democratic society could allow its watchdogs to be treated as enemies. Worse still, this was not an isolated case. Across the country and the world, too many of my colleagues have been harassed, injured, detained, or worse—all for doing their job.
As journalists, we don’t ask for special treatment, but we do deserve safety. We are not combatants, agitators, or threats. We are storytellers, investigators, and conduits of public truth. Without a free and protected press, transparency dies, and democracy falters. I am speaking today not just to share my story, but to make a direct appeal to security operatives across the country: Protect us—don’t target us. When security personnel treat journalists with hostility, they endanger not only individuals but the broader values of accountability and civic freedom.
Press freedom is not a privilege granted by those in power—it is a right enshrined in our constitutions, our legal systems, and our collective human conscience. Violating that right weakens our nation and deepens mistrust between the public and institutions. I urge security agencies to train and sensitize officers on the role of the media, especially during tense situations. Recognise that our cameras and pens are not weapons—they are tools of democracy. Creating an environment where journalists can operate without fear strengthens the country, not destabilises it. To my fellow journalists who’ve endured similar experiences: your courage matters. Keep pressing on, keep telling the truth, and know that you are not alone. The work we do is not easy, but it is essential. Let us all—journalists, security operatives, and citizens alike—commit to building a society where information flows freely, where truth is not punished, and where the press can do its job without fear.
Murungi’s experience
Mr Timothy Murungi, Mr Sekanjako’s colleague at the New Vision newspaper, was also beaten that day. He shares what transpired. There were two separate attacks on journalists at the UN offices. The first involved fewer people and fewer journalists, though it was just outside the UN office gate. That assault would have not been reported in the news if another brazen one hadn’t been executed about 20 minutes later. In the reports, the two were not differentiated/separated, with a focus put on the second bloody attack. Journalists and National Unity Platform (NUP) officials arrived at the UN offices at about 12:45pm. The commander ordered that only NUP presidential candidate Robert Kyagulanyi, alias Bobi Wine, stays behind and the beating started instantaneously. (Stories of processions, overcrowding, bodaboda scuffles with a captain, 40 bodabodas ferrying journalists or stone-throwing goons are shameless lies). The second savage attack followed the same script.
The victims of the first ambush were narrating their ordeal only to be pounced on again, and those interviewing them. Is it possible that the two beatings combined were unsanctioned, even when after the first, there was time for heads to cool and sober up? Was the first assault bound not to make an impact, just as the journalists would have just kept it under wraps (Many such incidences happen, but foot soldiers just take it to the chin), hence the second? What was behind the open violence against UN human rights office guests, following a human rights story (which was consequently dropped)? Journalists know no story is worth their life, and also do everything not to be the story. They fled, but the military hunted them down. The mission seemed to be: to do anything to kill the story being followed, even if it meant risking lives. It is little wonder that some of the ‘perpetrators’ charge was only a misdemeanor in a disciplinary committee. The military didn’t just go rogue. Commander Napoleon Namanya’s order to strike was unmistakable: “BEAT THEM!”
Beaten on the job.
There were two separate attacks on journalists at the UN offices. The first involved fewer people and fewer journalists, though it was just outside the UN office gate. That assault would have not been reported in the news if another brazen one hadn’t been executed about 20 minutes later... Journalists know no story is worth their life, and also do everything not to be the story. They fled, but the military hunted them down. The mission seemed to be: to do anything to kill the story being followed, even if it meant risking lives– Timothy Murungi
