Night Sweeps and Daylight Silence: Inside Kampala’s New Era of Crime Crackdowns

Kampala, Uganda

When darkness settles over Kampala, the city becomes something else. The day’s heat loosens its grip. Street vendors fold up tarpaulins. The honking fades to a gentler hum. But in the alleys of Kisenyi, Bwaise, Katwe, Makerere Kikoni, and the crowded lanes behind the bus park, the night has a sharper edge.

It is in this darkness — between the taxi stages, the unfinished buildings, the drinking spots and the narrow corridors behind makeshift market sheds — that the latest police operations have unfolded.

More than 200 suspects were arrested in a sweep that stretched across several divisions of Kampala. Police described the operation as “intelligence-led”, aimed at breaking up theft rings, drug networks, gang formations, and what they called “habitual criminals who hide in slum corridors and terrorize city residents.”

But the city tells another story — one of fear, relief, resentment, and uncertainty — layered on top of each other like the city’s own traffic.

The Night the Trucks Came

“It started around 11,” says Hassan, a boda boda rider who works the late shift near Owino. He sits on the back of his motorcycle, leaning forward slightly, like someone who has spent his life speeding through narrow spaces.

“You could hear them before you saw them. The boots. The radios. The trucks. They blocked the roads one by one — no one in, no one out.”

He does not smile. He does not frown. He simply watches the dust rising in the sunlight.

“I’m not saying it was bad,” he says carefully. “But things like this don’t come without pain.”

Residents say officers entered corridors in groups, using torches to check corners, demanding IDs, searching pockets, questioning anyone who tried to walk away.

Some were caught sleeping.
Some were drinking.
Some were simply there.

The city, at night, is filled with people who have nowhere else to be.

The Official Line

At a press briefing the next morning, Kampala Metropolitan Police spokespersons called the operation a necessary action to restore safety.

They listed items recovered:

stolen phones

pangas (machetes)

cannabis

fuel siphoning equipment

housebreaking tools

To the cameras, the message was simple and confident:

“We are reclaiming the city from criminals.”

Many citizens applauded.
Others withdrew into quiet discomfort.

Some losses are easy to measure — stolen property, broken windows, bruised ribs.

Others are not.

Voices on the Ground

The deeper you walk into the informal settlements, the more complicated the story becomes.

Mary, market vendor:

“I have been robbed twice. If this operation stops that, good. But I need to know my son will not be arrested just because he was outside at the wrong time.”

Brian, 19, arrested and released without charges:

He speaks in short fragments, words heavy like wet sand.

“I was coming from work.
They didn’t ask.
They didn’t look.
They just said, get in the truck.”

He was held for two days.
No food until the second evening.
Released with no explanation.

He looks down at his hands, the way someone does when they’re not sure what they’re allowed to feel.

Fear Cuts Both Ways

Crime in Kampala is not imaginary.

Phones are snatched daily.
Bodaboda accidents mask quick robberies.
Break-ins rise and fall like weather.

For many, the sweeps bring relief.

But fear does not disappear — it just relocates.
From the streets to the cells.
From the criminals to the innocent bystanders caught in the wide net.

Who gets caught depends on who the city believes is already guilty.

And in Kampala, poverty itself can look like guilt.

The Police View from Inside

A senior officer, speaking on condition of anonymity, described the challenge this way:

“The same communities that say ‘protect us’ also say ‘don’t arrest our boys.’ But sometimes the boys are the ones doing the terrorizing.”

He rubbed his eyes while saying it, as though the answer was buried somewhere behind his eyelids.

“But yes. Sometimes mistakes happen. We know. The city moves fast.”

He paused.

“We are not trying to rule with fear. We are trying to stop chaos before it becomes normal.”

It is an explanation.
Not a justification.
Not an apology.

Just a truth that is not simple.

The Deeper Problem

Crime does not grow in a vacuum.

It grows where:

jobs are scarce

education is unaffordable

families are fractured

drugs are cheap

rent is one missed payment away from homelessness

Kampala is a city of hustlers.
A city of survivors.
A city where the line between legality and desperation is narrow and very, very flexible.

Crackdowns can remove criminals.
But they cannot remove the reasons crime exists.

The Aftermath

Days after the sweeps, life looks normal again.

Taxi conductors shout.
Vendors negotiate.
Bodabodas weave through impossible spaces.

But there is a new alertness.

People move a little faster.
Look over shoulders a little more.
Go home slightly earlier.

The city remembers.
Cities always do.

Where This Goes

If the sweeps are followed by:

transparent court processing

community-police dialogue

rehabilitation programs

employment pathways

Then crime may fall in ways that last.

But if they are followed by:

silence

overcrowded remand cells

unresolved cases

resentment in the slums

Then the city will return to the same cycle — only angrier.

The real question is not whether Kampala can be made safe.

The question is whether safety can be created without sacrificing dignity.

“We are not trying to rule with fear. We are trying to stop chaos before it becomes normal.” — Senior Kampala Police Official

Kampala police arrested over 200 people in citywide sweeps targeting criminal networks. Residents express both relief and concern, revealing complex tensions between safety and rights.