On August 12, 2024 in Kiteezi, a mountain of garbage collapsed and crushed homes, burying families and swallowing entire futures in a matter of seconds.
For the survivors, the tragedy didn’t end with the landslide. For some, it was only the beginning.
The Kampala Capital City Authority (KCCA) declared the disaster a “tragic landfill failure.” Within days, a survivors’ camp was set up. But not everyone made it in.
One of those left out was Isaac Tushabemukama, a young man who lost everything that day.
While many survivors were escorted to the camp, Isaac and a small group chose to stay behind not for themselves, but to try and pull out the bodies of their neighbours and loved ones.
“There was no one going in. No KCCA, no Red Cross. They brought excavators, but those can’t go deep. We went in ourselves and pulled our people out.”
They worked with bare hands, pulling the injured from under the waste, retrieving the trapped, and carrying out the dead while official responders stood at a distance.
“These were our friends, our neighbours, the people we hustled with every day. There’s no way we could just walk away,” Isaac says.
That courage came at a heavy cost.
Because they chose to stay behind and help, they missed camp registration for serving victims and were denied access to relief. Every donation food, sugar, water, even soap was given only to those on the official list.
“Even when others vouched for us, saying we had been digging all along, they wouldn’t let us in.”
Isaac says the registration process was chaotic and open to abuse.
He claims some people from nearby unaffected areas, who had come merely to watch, ended up being counted as survivors and received full access to the camp and the relief provided.
Four Months of Work, Not a Shilling Paid
Two weeks later, KCCA changed its tone. Impressed by the volunteers’ dedication, they issued job letters, hiring them for recovery operations.
The promise was clear: Shs30,000 per day for 120 days a total of Shs3.6 million each.
They never saw a coin.
“Every day, we signed in. Every day, we worked. We pulled out rotting bodies with our bare hands for months, believing we’d be paid. Nothing came.”
After a never-ending back and forth between the workers and KCCA, they finally confronted Engineer Paul Adude from KCCA.
He was reportedly shocked, as he didn’t even know they were still waiting clearly showing that their payment wasn’t a top priority.
By then, many had given up hope.
“We wanted to sue. But court is expensive. We can’t afford lawyers. So we’re just sent around in circles.”
A History of Loss
The Kiteezi tragedy wasn’t Isaac’s first run-in with KCCA.
In 2023, he ran two chapati stands and a second hand clothing stall in Kawempe, earning no less than Shs20,000 a day, which was enough to sustain his simple life.
One day, KCCA enforcement officers swept through without warning, confiscating everything.
When he and other vendors went to reclaim their property, he says they were told: “We know you boys support NUP. Go to Kyagulanyi and ask him to start you another business.”
With no livelihood, no compensation, and nowhere to sleep after the landfill collapse, Isaac resorted to roadside odd jobs just to survive.
Today, KCCA speaks of “victim compensation.” But Isaac and others like him, who were never officially registered, are still excluded and haven’t received their pay for the work they did.
Many have now given up the fight, but Isaac and a few others are still fighting tooth and nail to see to it that they are paid the wages for the work they did.