There is a price for leaving.
There is a bigger price for coming back.
Sam Mugumya has been paying both for 12 years.
On 31st July 2026, a video appeared online. A man, thin, tired, looking at the camera. That was him. 11 months after men reportedly walked into a hotel in Mbarara and took him.
No statement. No charge sheet. No court. Just a video.
That is the price so far.
2014: Paying To Leave
He left Uganda in 2014 amid treason charges. Treason is the government’s way of saying “you are the enemy of the state.”
By November that year, he was arrested in eastern DR Congo. Illegal entry. Alleged links to rebels.
Then came 8 years in Ndolo Military Prison in Kinshasa. 8 years of concrete, noise, and time.
People survive Ndolo by doing two things: forgetting and remembering. Mugumya chose remembering. He wrote poetry. In secret. On scraps. Because when your body is caged, your mind has to go somewhere.
2022–2025: Paying To Stay Away
21 October 2022, he walked out of Ndolo. Free, but not home.
For 3 years he lived in exile. Compiled the poems he wrote in jail. Watched Uganda from a distance.
Exile is a strange freedom. You can speak, but no one in your village hears you. You are safe, but you are a ghost in your own country.
Most people in exile stay in exile. It’s safer.
Mid-2025: Paying To Return
He came back. Mid-2025.
He said he was home to do politics. To contest for Rukungiri Municipality MP.
That is the part that matters. He didn’t sneak back. He came back to stand in front of people and ask for their vote.
To ordinary people in Rukungiri, that meant: “Our son has returned.”
To the political class in Kampala, that meant: “Here is a man with a story, a scar, and ambition.”
In Uganda, all three are dangerous.
26 August 2025: The Bill Arrives
Hotel in Mbarara. Men came. He was reportedly picked up.
After that, nothing.
27 August: Lawyers went to court. “Produce him.”
5 September: High Court issued habeas corpus. “Bring him.”
The law spoke. The state stayed silent. For 11 months.
31 July 2026: Payment In Full
The video.
No location. No explanation. Just proof that he is alive and that he is not well.
For his family, it was relief and new pain.
For his lawyers, it was evidence.
For government, it was a question it can no longer avoid.
For Ugandans watching on phones, it was familiar. “Oh. This again.”
What Is The Price, Really?
This story is not just about one man.
1. The price for the individual
Half his adult life in cells. First in Congo, now possibly here. The poems from Ndolo are now books. The body in the video is now evidence.
2. The price for the law
We have courts. We have a constitution. We have habeas corpus. If a court order can be ignored for 11 months, then the price is that the law becomes advice.
3. The price for politics
He came home to contest. That is what democracy asks of you. Leave exile, face the people. If the reward for that is disappearance, then the message to every other Ugandan in exile is clear: Don’t come back. Or if you do, don’t contest.
4. The price for us
In Rukungiri they ask: “Will he represent us?”
In Mbarara they ask: “Can they pick anyone from a hotel?”
In Kampala they ask: “Who gave the order?”
Fear is cheap to create. It’s expensive to remove.
The Elite Question
In Kampala boardrooms they will call this “a signal.”
A signal to other returnees. A signal that some people are too hot to touch, even with a court order.
Signals work. Until the video comes out.
That is the real price. When citizens start budgeting for silence.
Final Word
Sam Mugumya left to survive.
He returned to serve.
And now we are paying the price of not knowing where he is.
“The Price Of Coming Home” is not just his story.
It is Uganda’s story, repeated.
A country that wants the best of its children to come back must decide:
Do we want them to come home?
Or do we want them to pay for it?
Until he is produced in court, alive and well, we already know the answer.
