Dr Kizza Besigye was banging the table in the dock, shouting in protest as prison warders tried to restrain him.
Then, suddenly, he collapsed. The dramatic scenes at the High Court in Kampala on July 29, 2026, unfolded during a confrontation between the veteran opposition politician and Justice Emmanuel Baguma over the conduct of his treason trial.
To some, Besigye’s collapse seemed like another attempt to disrupt the proceedings. President Yoweri Museveni and some of his associates had previously accused him of deliberately delaying his trial, and some suggested the incident was “a show aimed at soliciting public sympathy.”
But what happened in the hours and days that followed would raise serious questions about the authorities’ initial assessment of his condition, the medical care available to him and, ultimately, who controls his treatment while he remains in state custody.
According to accounts obtained by The Observer, three doctors who were present in court were denied access to Besigye to administer first aid. They were Dr Olive Kobusingye, his sister; Dr Nicholas Kamara, a senior member of the People’s Front for Freedom (PFF); and Dr Lulume Bayiga, the party’s acting president.
Besigye was subsequently taken by ambulance to Luzira Prison rather than directly to hospital. The collapse abruptly ended a confrontation over Besigye’s right to be represented by lawyers of his choice.
He had repeatedly challenged the court’s decision to proceed with the trial, arguing that it violated his fundamental right to a fair hearing. When Justice Baguma insisted that proceedings continue, Besigye began banging the table and shouting from the dock.
Prison warders restrained him, but he continued protesting until he collapsed. It was only later, according to people familiar with the circumstances, that the authorities appreciated the seriousness of his condition.
“When he was taken to Luzira, they thought he was just pretending, but they realized that in fact the situation was serious. The head of prison health services advised that the situation Besigye was in was beyond what they could manage,” said a source who requested anonymity to speak candidly about the matter.
That night, Besigye was transferred to Mulago National Referral Hospital, where he was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit. According to the sources, he remained unconscious for three days.
When he regained consciousness, his condition had deteriorated to the point where even basic activities had become difficult. He struggled to speak, eat, hold objects and walk.
For a man who has spent much of his political career addressing crowds, confronting security personnel and challenging the government in court, the reported loss of these abilities marked a particularly distressing turn.
His medical difficulties also introduced a new question into an already contentious trial: how could Besigye meaningfully participate in proceedings or instruct his lawyers if he could barely communicate?
FROM MULAGO BACK TO LUZIRA
Despite the seriousness of his reported condition, authorities eventually returned Besigye to Luzira Prison Hospital rather than keeping him at Mulago.
The Uganda Prisons Service later confirmed that Besigye was discharged from Mulago on August 7 after a 10-day admission. In an August 11 statement, prisons spokesperson Frank Baine said the prison medical team remained responsible for his care and that he was steadily improving.
He also said immediate family members and personal doctors were being allowed access. But accounts from Besigye’s family and associates paint a more troubling picture of his recovery.
At Luzira, his personal doctors and relatives were allowed to help care for him, although visits remained restricted. His wife, Winnie Byanyima, said family members were taking turns looking after him. Yet, she expressed concern about the security arrangements surrounding his hospital room.
“I have visited him at Luzira where he is being treated. But he is surrounded by army men both inside and outside the room. There are also other prisoners putting on the yellow uniform surrounding him. But I think they are also military men disguising as prisoners,” Byanyima said.
Her suspicion that some of the prisoners were disguised soldiers has not been independently established. Byanyima, executive director of UNAIDS, has repeatedly demanded that her husband be granted bail to seek specialized treatment abroad.
“He is a sick man, he is a father, a brother, a spouse to me, a citizen of Uganda; he has a right to health and to recover. Release Dr Besigye and allow me to take him to Geneva for treatment. When he has recovered, he will return and face the case against him. Dr Besigye has never run away from anything,” she said.
Her appeal reflects a broader concern among Besigye’s family and political associates: that his continued detention could complicate his recovery. When The Observer reporters visited Luzira in August, they were denied access to him.
A close associate who had seen Besigye recently described a man still struggling with the consequences of his collapse.
“He has not yet recovered. He can’t comprehend simple things; a speech therapist is teaching him how to talk. Of course, he is not the Besigye we used to know, but I think now the worst has passed,” the associate said.
Doreen Nyanjura, a former Kampala deputy lord mayor, was more elaborate. She described the distressing condition in which she found Dr Kizza Besigye when she visited him, revealing that he was undergoing rehabilitation to regain his ability to walk and speak.
In a post on X on October 20, Nyanjura wrote: “Three months since he collapsed, I finally had the opportunity to see and meet my leader, @kizzabesigye1! Before meeting him, I had imagined so many things about his appearance and current condition. It broke my heart to see that he is now being taught how to walk and talk again.
“A speech therapist was using a word chart with simple words like ‘dog’ and ‘boy’, which KB is supposed to try his hardest to pronounce, though he hasn’t succeeded yet.
“KB uses an alphabetical letter chart where he taps out letters for you to write down and piece together what he is saying. “Sensing that I was shocked about his current state, he pointed out that ‘it could have been worse’.
These accounts suggest that although Besigye had survived the immediate medical emergency, his rehabilitation was far from complete. An August 16 medical assessment, subsequently reported in the media, indicated that Besigye still had difficulty speaking and writing but retained some important cognitive abilities, including understanding verbal questions.
That distinction matters when assessing his condition and ability to participate in court proceedings. One evening, two ambulances arrived at Luzira Prison Hospital. About an hour later, staff wheeled Besigye from his hospital bed and placed him in one of them.
The second ambulance carried Erias Lukwago, the former Kampala Lord Mayor, who had also been receiving treatment at the prison hospital. Lukwago had been charged in June with misprision of treason, an offence involving the alleged failure to report knowledge of treason.
Ambulances headed to Lubowa along Entebbe Road, where the two politicians were taken to the Joint Clinical Research Centre (JCRC). The Uganda Prisons Service confirmed the transfer on August 31, saying the two men had been moved for medical attention.
Prisons spokesperson Frank Baine dismissed reports that they were in critical condition, maintaining that both were stable. However, information obtained by The Observer raises questions about the arrangements at the facility. According to sources familiar with their detention, the two politicians were placed in separate sections of the compound and have not interacted, despite being held at the same institution.
Their next of kin were informed of the transfer. Although prison warders remain present, the sources say UPDF soldiers also guard the facility and exercise considerable influence over access to the detainees.
More significantly, one source claims that military channels, rather than the prison authorities legally responsible for their custody, make decisions about visits. Ordinarily, prisoners on remand remain under the authority of the Uganda Prisons Service and the courts.
The suggestion that an external military command determines who may visit them therefore demands an explanation from the responsible institutions. The source further disputed accounts suggesting that Besigye and Lukwago were receiving treatment from JCRC medical personnel.
“Besigye continues to receive treatment from his personal doctors. The JCRC is just another prison facility. In fact, the head of that institution has visited them just once for what he called a courtesy call,” the source said.
These claims remain unverified. Neither the presence of military guards nor the continued involvement of personal doctors, on its own, establishes that the politicians have been denied appropriate medical treatment.
Nevertheless, the allegations create a central question: is JCRC functioning primarily as a medical facility for the two detainees, or has it become an alternative place of detention? An authoritative answer would require clarification from JCRC management, the Uganda Prisons Service and the military.
WHO IS NEGOTIATING BESIGYE’S FREEDOM?
Even as questions persist about Besigye’s treatment, a separate controversy has emerged over claims that discussions are under way to secure his release. Gen Muhoozi Kainerugaba, the Chief of Defence Forces, recently said President Museveni had authorized Gen Salim Saleh to lead efforts towards Besigye’s release.
But Besigye’s family and the PFF leadership have denied knowledge of any such negotiations. Ibrahim Ssemujju Nganda, the party’s secretary general living in exile, dismissed the suggestion that the party was in talks with the government.
“I’m the Secretary General of PFF; even when I’m currently outside the country, I’m in touch every day with our colleagues who are running the party. There are no talks whatsoever between the government and us about Besigye’s freedom. If there are any talks, maybe they are between those who abducted him and charged him with fictitious crimes,” Ssemujju said.
The competing accounts leave it unclear whether the government is involved, who might be participating, and on what terms Besigye could be released. Other senior PFF figures have publicly maintained that Besigye himself is unwilling to negotiate his freedom.
Doreen Nyanjura and Ingrid Turinawe, both of whom have visited him, say he has communicated that position despite his difficulties with writing.
“They failed to get evidence against him! He has told us he can’t be part of any negotiations coz [because] he didn’t commit any offence,” Turinawe wrote on X.
That position places Besigye’s medical condition at the centre of a wider political and legal dispute. His supporters insist that the charges against him are politically motivated, while the state maintains that he has a case to answer.
Besigye and his political aide, Haji Obeid Lutale, were seized in Nairobi, Kenya, in November 2024, where Besigye had ravelled for the launch of a book by veteran Kenyan politician Martha Karua. They were later brought to Uganda, initially held at Makindye military barracks and later remanded to Luzira Prison on charges of treason. They deny wrongdoing
THE UNANSWERED QUESTION
Nearly three months after Besigye collapsed in court, his health, continued detention and treatment arrangements remain matters of public concern. What began as a confrontation over legal representation has developed into a wider examination of how the state treats people in its custody, particularly when they become seriously ill.
Besigye’s case now raises several questions that extend beyond his personal circumstances. Who determines when a prisoner requires specialized medical treatment? Who has the authority to restrict access by family members and personal doctors?
And what happens when a seriously ill accused person may no longer be able to participate meaningfully in his own defence? These questions matter because the state’s responsibility for a detainee does not end at the prison gate.
Once the government deprives someone of their liberty, it assumes responsibility for ensuring that the person’s health and fundamental rights are protected.