Besigye's health crisis raises fresh questions over Kenya's involvement

When Dr Kizza Besigye arrived in Nairobi in November 2024, he was a veteran Ugandan opposition leader, physician and four-time presidential candidate.

He had come to Kenya for a book launch but little did he know he would leave as a prisoner.

Nearly two years later, the 70-year-old politician is still incarcerated while battling for his life because of ill health and Kenya is largely to blame for his predicament. He recently collapsed in court, was admitted to hospital and suddenly returned to prison.

Besigye collapsed on July 29 while appearing before Uganda's High Court in his treason case. He had been objecting to proceedings involving state-appointed lawyers when he became visibly weak and lost consciousness.

He was taken for treatment at Mulago National Referral Hospital, where he spent 10 days. But his hospitalization did not end the uncertainty surrounding his condition. Instead, it produced sharply different accounts from his family, political allies and the Ugandan authorities.

On August 7 morning, Health Minister Chris Baryomunsi said he had visited Besigye and found him "steadily recuperating". Hours later, Besigye's wife, Winnie Byanyima, offered a starkly different picture.

"I am shocked and deeply distressed," she said after learning that her husband had been transferred from Mulago to Luzira Prison.

Byanyima said that when she left him at about 4.30pm, "he still could not walk or talk".

"At lunch, I fed him soft food with a spoon because his arms and hands remain very weak. He cannot yet care for himself," she added.

People's Front for Freedom (PFF), the opposition party in Uganda, described the transfer as a "forcible evacuation", claiming that armed prison and military personnel had removed him despite his fragile condition.

The party said that, "ten days after his medical collapse in court, Dr Besigye has still not fully regained consciousness".

The Uganda Prisons Service disputes that description. On August 11, spokesperson Frank Baine said Besigye was under the care of prison doctors and that "his health condition is steadily improving". He added that his immediate family and personal doctors were being allowed access.

The contradiction is difficult to ignore. The government says he is improving. His wife says he cannot walk or speak. His party says he remains critically ill.

For the public, determining the truth becomes difficult when the medical condition of a prisoner is communicated largely through competing political and official statements.

That is why Besigye's health has become more than a medical story. It is now a test of transparency, accountability and the protection of prisoners' rights.

But to understand why his condition carries such weight, it is necessary to return to Nairobi.

Besigye arrived in Kenya ahead of a book launch associated with former Kenyan Justice Minister Martha Karua. On November 16, 2024, he reportedly attended a meeting on Riverside Drive after being invited by a British national who allegedly claimed to have business associates interested in supporting African political parties and mobilisation activities.

Besigye went with his colleague Haji Obeid Lutale. According to his wife Byanyima, the meeting soon took an unexpected turn. Men in civilian clothing reportedly arrived and announced that Besigye was under arrest. She said the British national who had invited him was carrying two guns and a box of money before disappearing.

"I don't know why this man came with two guns and a box of money," Byanyima recalled Besigye saying. 

Besigye and Lutale were then driven overnight towards Uganda. They crossed the border and ended up in Ugandan custody.

It was an extraordinary episode, a prominent Ugandan opposition leader allegedly seized in Kenya and transported into Uganda outside the normal extradition process.

Kenya denied involvement. Foreign Affairs Principal Secretary Korir Sing'oei said Kenya had no role in Besigye's arrest or deportation.

But that denial leaves a question hanging over Nairobi: if Kenyan authorities were not involved, how did such an operation happen in the capital? Who organised it? Who knew? What was investigated? And what protection does Kenya offer political figures who enter its territory?

Those questions have become more important because Besigye's case fits into a wider regional pattern.

In 2025, Kenyan activist Boniface Mwangi and Ugandan lawyer Agather Atuhaire were detained in Tanzania while in Dar es Salaam around the treason trial of opposition leader Tundu Lissu. They later alleged mistreatment in custody, allegations Tanzanian authorities rejected.

Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni also acknowledged that Kenyan activists Bob Njagi and Nicholas Oyoo had been detained in Uganda after they disappeared. He described them as "experts in riots" who had been put "in the fridge for some days".

The cases are not identical. But together they raise an uncomfortable question: is East Africa becoming better at pursuing political dissent across borders than protecting the rights of those being pursued?

Regional integration was supposed to make East Africa more connected. Citizens were meant to move more freely, trade more easily and interact across borders. But what happens when security operations also become effectively borderless?

Besigye's story offers an unsettling answer. His ordeal began in Kenya. His prosecution is taking place in Uganda. His health is now being managed within a Ugandan detention system.

A courtroom meant to determine whether Besigye was guilty or innocent instead became the place where his physical vulnerability was exposed before the public. His subsequent hospitalization should have provided clarity. Instead, it raised more questions.

Where exactly was he taken after collapsing? How serious was his condition? What treatment did he receive? Was he medically fit to return to prison? Why did his family believe he required continued hospital care while authorities announced his discharge?

A person in prison cannot freely choose a doctor, seek another opinion or decide where to receive treatment. That makes independent medical oversight especially important when the detainee is a prominent political opponent.

Besigye has spent decades challenging Museveni's government. He has contested elections, endured repeated arrests and remained one of Uganda's most recognizable opposition figures but his latest struggle is different. 

His body has become part of the story. The politician who once addressed crowds is now reported by his wife to be unable to speak. The man who spent years confronting the state is now dependent on others for basic care.

That should move the debate beyond politics. If the government says Besigye is recovering, independent doctors should be able to verify that assessment. If his family says he remains severely incapacitated, they should have unrestricted access to medical professionals. His health should not become another battlefield between the government and the opposition.

For Kenya, there is an unfinished responsibility. The alleged abduction happened in Nairobi. Even if the Kenyan state did not participate, the incident occurred on Kenyan soil.

A country committed to protecting liberty cannot simply deny involvement and move on. It must demonstrate that allegations of an extraordinary cross-border operation were properly investigated.

The issue extends beyond Besigye. If political figures can disappear from Nairobi and later surface in neighbouring countries' custody, then activists, lawyers, journalists and opposition leaders have reason to question the security of the region.

The international community has raised concerns. Human-rights organizations have condemned Besigye's detention. The Commonwealth has called for his release. Civil-society groups have demanded his freedom. Yet condemnation has not restored his liberty.

Now the concern is his health. That is perhaps the most disturbing evolution of the Besigye story. What began as a political detention has become a question of whether a sick elderly prisoner is receiving adequate care.

The danger is that East Africans become accustomed to extraordinary events: an opposition leader disappears, an activist is detained across a border, a lawyer is arrested, a prisoner becomes seriously ill and each incident is eventually absorbed into another news cycle.

Besigye's condition should not be allowed to become another normalized controversy. The central question is simple: is a 70-year-old man in state custody receiving the medical care his condition requires?

Beyond that lies the larger regional question. Can East Africa claim to be building integration while the pursuit of political opponents increasingly crosses borders?

Can governments cooperate on security without equally strong cooperation on accountability? And can Kenya maintain that it protects liberty while the circumstances surrounding Besigye's removal from Nairobi remain unresolved?

Besigye arrived in Kenya as a political guest, crossed into Uganda as a detainee and has spent nearly two years in custody. Now he is fighting for his health.

The region may disagree about his politics, his charges and his opponents. But the right of a sick prisoner to humane treatment, proper medical care and dignity should not be political.

The man they left behind in Nairobi has become more than a symbol of Uganda's opposition. He is now a measure of East Africa's commitment to liberty.

As Besigye's health becomes more fragile, the silence surrounding his ordeal becomes harder for the region to defend.