On Thursday 17th April 2026, police in Katwe answered that outcry with boots on the ground. Operations swept through Ndeeba and Muganzirwaza, ending in Mutebi Zone, Rubaga Division. By nightfall, 29 male suspects were in custody. Ten shops at Muganzirwaza were cordoned off, pending search. And the reason boda riders have been sleeping with one eye open was laid bare: 24 sets of motorcycle spare parts and a pile of old number plates.
Police spokesperson Luke Owoyesigyire confirmed the operation was a direct response to complaints from residents about rampant motorcycle theft in Katwe and surrounding areas.
What They Found in Muganzirwaza, Katwe
This was not a roundup of petty thieves. This was a raid on a supply chain.
Among the recovered items were six motorcycle number plates: UFY 763/A, UGG 874/E, UMA 304DR, UET 612/L, UMA 267GT, and others. Plates don’t get stolen for fun. They get peeled off to “clean” a stolen bike. The frame goes one way, the engine another, the plates into a sack for resale or disposal. The 24 sets of spare parts tell the rest. This is how a UGX 4 million boda becomes UGX 400,000 in quick cash.
The 10 shops cordoned off at Muganzirwaza are the key. Police are treating them as possible “chop shops” — places where stolen motorcycles are dismantled within hours of theft. For boda riders, Muganzirwaza has long carried rumors. Thursday gave those rumors handcuffs.
Why Katwe, Why Now
Katwe and Ndeeba riders have been bleeding bikes for months. The thefts follow a pattern. A rider is hired for a long trip at dusk. He is diverted into a side road. Panga men appear. The bike is gone in 60 seconds. The rider is lucky to walk away.
Police admit the public forced this operation. “We thank those members of public that brought this concern to our attention,” Owoyesigyire said. Translation: the noise got too loud to ignore. When boda chairmen, stage leaders, and widows of killed riders all start calling the same OC, stations move.
The timing matters too. We are deep into 2026. Stolen bikes become getaway vehicles. Stolen plates become untraceable transport. Cracking Muganzirwaza now is crime prevention before the calendar gets hotter.
29 Arrests — But What Happens Monday
Twenty-nine male suspects is a big number. It looks like action. The test is what happens after the cameras leave.
Katwe residents know the cycle. Raid, arrests, parade, silence, release. Suspects claim they were “buyers” not thieves. Shop owners claim they “didn’t know” the parts were stolen. Files go missing. Complainants get tired.
This operation only matters if three things follow:
1. The plates are traced — UFY 763/A belonged to someone. That person deserves a call. A returned frame is better than a court date.
2. The shops are prosecuted, not just closed — Cordon tape is not a conviction. If stolen parts are found inside, charges must follow.
3. The chain is broken — Arresting the man with the spanner is good. Arresting the man who pays him to strip bikes is better.
The Real Cost of a Stolen Boda
Most riders don’t own their bikes outright. They pay around UGX 8,000 to UGX 15,000 daily to loan companies. Miss three days and the bike is repossessed. So when thieves take it, the rider loses the bike and still owes the loan. He goes from breadwinner to debtor in one night. That is why stages in Katwe hold vigils when a member is killed. They are burying a man and an economy.
A motorcycle in Kampala is not transport. It is a salary, a school fee, a house. When UFY 763/A disappeared, a family stopped eating three meals. When UMA 304DR was stripped, a landlord missed rent. The 24 sets of parts in that police yard are 24 households in arrears.
That is why Muganzirwaza matters. It is not just a zone on a police report. It is where the city’s poor lose their only asset.
How a Stolen Bike Disappears in 3 Hours
Ask any Katwe rider and he’ll walk you through it.
Stage one: The snatch. Usually dusk, usually a “client” going to Entebbe Road or Masajja from Kampala road. The rider is diverted into a murram lane. Panga men step out. The bike is gone in under a minute.
Stage two: The handoff. The bike is ridden hard for 10 minutes, never more. It enters a gate in Ndeeba or Muganzirwaza. That gate closes. That’s the last time the original plate sees daylight.
Stage three: The surgery. By the time the owner reaches the police post, the tank is off. The engine number is being filed down. The frame is being cut. Within three hours, that UGX 4 million machine is five different products: an engine for a village bike, a tank for a spare parts dealer, wheels for another rider, and a frame sold as scrap. The plate? Thrown in a pit latrine or, as Thursday showed, kept for “paperwork” on the next stolen bike.
That speed is why riders rarely recover anything. Police recovered 24 sets of parts. That means 24 bikes vanished that fast.
Operations Continue
Police say the operations continue “in a bid to curb down on crime.” For Katwe riders, those words will mean something when they can park at night without hiring a guard. When a stage can go a week without a eulogy.
Thursday was a start. Muganzirwaza felt it. Ndeeba heard it. Mutebi Zone saw it.
Now the files must outlast the headlines.
