Reported by: Ijeoma G | Edited by: Oravbiere Osayomore Promise.
For 62 Nigerian Christian volunteers who left home with a mission of mercy, their humanitarian calling has become a stomach‑churning nightmare. Arrested by Ugandan immigration authorities on April 27, 2026, in a dawn raid on their lodge in the Adjumani District, the members of the “Life Mission” group now find themselves trapped behind the high fence of a detention facility in Namawme, on the outskirts of Kampala. In the two weeks since, their ordeal has spiralled from a bureaucratic dispute over immigration paperwork into a full‑blown health crisis, with at least 20 detainees suffering from respiratory distress linked to toxic industrial emissions, and a five‑month‑old infant being rushed to hospital twice after it took Ugandan authorities four days to dispatch an ambulance.
The arrests were announced by the Ugandan Directorate of Citizenship and Immigration Control in a statement on its official X handle, claiming the group was operating “a church” and living in the country without valid work permits. “Following a tip‑off, our enforcement team has arrested 62 Nigerian nationals operating illegally in Adjumani (without work permits),” the agency said, adding that the suspects had been “posing as gospel preachers” while engaging in unspecified irregular activities. However, the leadership of Life Mission has vigorously denied the allegations, insisting that the detained individuals are not pastors or church planters but university‑educated humanitarian volunteers engaged in a long‑running cross‑cultural outreach programme.
In an exclusive interview with PUNCH Metro, the Executive Director of Life Mission, Michael ChristisKing, explained that the mission to Northern Uganda began in 2022 following a severe humanitarian crisis among South Sudanese refugees. He emphasised that the organisation followed due process to the letter, securing invitations and approvals from the Office of the Prime Minister, the Commissioner for Refugees, and the Born Again Fellowship of Uganda before any volunteer set foot in the country. “We are not undocumented outsiders. Our entry into Uganda was the result of seven months of rigorous administrative work,” ChristisKing told PUNCH. He disclosed that the volunteers arrived in August 2025 with valid visas, which were still current at the time of the arrests, with an expiration date of May 15. “Our focus has been on recruiting university graduates. We managed every detail: passports, flight tickets, and a curriculum focused on education, healthcare, and agricultural empowerment.”
The group’s troubles began to escalate on April 24 when Ugandan authorities suddenly declared their documents invalid. Three days later, heavily armed immigration officers stormed their lodge in Adjumani while residents were observing their morning prayers, forcing them onto a prison bus for a brutal 10‑hour journey to Kampala. “They were stripped of their dignity, and their belongings were left behind in the north,” ChristisKing said, his voice heavy with distress. The Nigerian High Commission in Uganda, led by Ambassador John Shama Shaga, has been the group’s sole advocate, with ChristisKing noting that the Ambassador “has stood by us at midnight and midday, witnessing the spiteful treatment we have received.”
Once locked inside the detention facility, the missionaries’ situation deteriorated rapidly. In interviews conducted via a brief window of phone access, several detainees described severe overcrowding and alarming health conditions. Innocent Onyedikachi, one of the detainees, told PUNCH Metro that the facility is located in an industrial area, and that toxic smoke from nearby factories regularly blows into their sleeping quarters. “There are several industries around this place, and sometimes smoke enters the rooms. We are exposed to unknown gases in the air. Many of us are experiencing nasal congestion; at least 20 out of the 62 people here have symptoms,” he said. While authorities have provided basic cough syrup and nose masks, he noted that new cases are still emerging, raising fears of a more serious outbreak among the vulnerable population. The situation is particularly dire for the women and children. Another detainee, Shedrach Saidu, described a scene of extreme congestion, with approximately 25 women sharing a single room, while two nursing mothers with five‑month‑old babies and a pregnant woman are kept in a separate, albeit equally inadequate, space.
Perhaps the most distressing testimony came from a female detainee, Ruth Dauda, who recounted the terrifying illness of an infant being nursed behind bars. “One of the babies became seriously ill with persistent coughing and had to be taken to the hospital twice. It was very alarming,” she said. She added that when the baby first fell ill, it took Ugandan authorities a gruelling four days to arrange an ambulance. “Thankfully, the baby is improving now, but it was a very scary situation,” she added. Despite the nightmare, Dauda acknowledged that officials provide some minimal welfare, such as weekly diapers, but the psychological toll is incalculable.
The plight of the missionary group has been further compounded by an egregious denial of legal representation. A Ugandan lawyer, Israel Mivule, contracted by the mission group, rushed to the detention facility in Namawme as soon as he was hired, only to find the gate locked. “I arrived at the detention facility in Namawme, a large compound with a high fence and a locked gate. After introducing myself as a lawyer acting on instructions, I was refused access and directed to return to Kampala to obtain permission from senior officials,” Mivule told the press. He pleaded with the officer on duty to allow him even a “one‑on‑one interaction” with any of the detainees to assess their well‑being, but his request was denied, with the officer claiming that granting such access “could jeopardise his job.” The lawyer stressed that the move is a clear violation of Uganda’s own constitutional provisions, which guarantee detainees the right to legal counsel and a fair hearing at all times.
Beyond their freedom, the Nigerians are now facing a staggering financial ultimatum. According to multiple reports, Ugandan authorities are demanding $400 from every adult detainee as a condition for release. When flight rescheduling costs and administrative fees are factored in, the sum rises to approximately $500 per person. For those unable to pay, officials have threatened prosecution under immigration laws, which could lead to lengthy prison sentences. This demand has sparked fresh outrage, with critics describing it as a form of “legalised ransom” for humanitarian volunteers who were not engaged in any criminal activity. A source familiar with the matter told CrossRiverWatch, “They have asked them to provide $400 each within 30 days or face prosecution if they can’t get the Minister to allow them go scot free.” The deadline is rapidly approaching, and the families of the affected Nigerians are scrambling to raise the funds.
In the face of this multi‑layered crisis, the Nigerian government is under intense pressure to act on behalf of its stranded citizens. The Committee for the Defence of Human Rights (CDHR) has raised a red flag, condemning the “unlawful detention” and accusing Ugandan authorities of violating international laws and basic human rights. The group has called on President Bola Tinubu to prioritise the safety and dignity of Nigerians abroad, warning that failure to act decisively could further expose citizens to similar abuses. The Nigerian High Commission in Kampala has been actively involved, but so far, diplomatic talks have not yielded a breakthrough. Legal pressure is also mounting; the group’s lawyer, Israel Mivule, has given the embassy a final warning: if diplomatic efforts fail, he will immediately file for a court order to secure the immediate release of all 62 detainees.
For now, the 62 Nigerians remain behind the high fence in Namawme, cut off from the phones, their families, and their legal representation. A five‑month‑old baby is breathing better, but the spectre of illness still looms over the 20 suffering detainees. And in the cramped sleeping quarters, as the industrial smoke drifts through the vents, the volunteers who came to help refugees wait for a justice that is taking far too long to arrive.
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