(Gulu) – Former Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) commander, Thomas Kwoyelo, has once again taken the spotlight, but not for making amends. In an October 14 court session that had all the drama of a Ugandan TV soap opera, Kwoyelo stunned the International Crimes Division (ICD) judges when he rejected the traditional Acholi reconciliation ritual known as mato-oput. To put it plainly, Kwoyelo said, “It wasn’t my fault. I was just following orders!”
The mato-oput ritual is as Acholi as a boda boda chase through Kampala’s traffic—it’s a central part of their justice system. It involves offenders admitting guilt, asking for forgiveness, and reconciling with their victims. In other words, it’s the cultural version of saying “sorry, my bad” and shaking hands. But apparently, for Kwoyelo, apologizing just wasn’t on his to-do list.
Appearing before the Gulu High Court circuit, Kwoyelo faced a panel of four judges, including Justice Michael Elubu, who asked him whether he’d consider taking part in the ritual. Kwoyelo, ever the rebel (no pun intended), politely declined. He explained to the court that his crimes—44 charges ranging from murder to kidnapping—weren’t entirely his fault because he was just following the commands of his superiors in the LRA. In Uganda, this is the equivalent of claiming you were late to work because a herd of cows blocked your way—it may be partly true, but no one’s buying it.
Table: Kwoyelo’s Legal Situation at a Glance
| Charges Faced | Number of Charges |
|---|---|
| Convicted | 44 out of 78 |
| Crimes | Murder, aggravated robbery, kidnapping with intent to murder, crimes against humanity |
| Rejected Reconciliation | Mato-oput, traditional Acholi justice system |
| Sentence Hearing | Scheduled for October 25, 2024 |
For a man convicted on 44 counts, you’d think Kwoyelo would be ready to embrace any path to redemption, especially one so deeply rooted in his own culture. But instead, he argued that the ritual wasn’t for him. “I didn’t do all these things intentionally,” he told the court, adding that the orders came from above, from the LRA’s infamous leadership. If you listen closely, you can almost hear the Acholi elders shaking their heads, asking, “Kwoyelo, have you forgotten the ways of your ancestors?”
In Acholi tradition, mato-oput is not just about forgiveness—it’s about restoring balance and mending broken relationships. Kwoyelo’s rejection of the ritual is like refusing to pay a bride price after an introduction ceremony—culturally, it just doesn’t make sense. But in his defense, Kwoyelo argued that he, too, was a victim, having been abducted as a child. To him, his time in the LRA was not by choice, but by force.
As if rejecting mato-oput wasn’t enough, Kwoyelo went a step further, asking the court to hand him a lighter sentence. Why? Because according to him, the years he spent in captivity with the LRA were punishment enough. He appealed to the court’s mercy, requesting a chance to enjoy the peace and freedom that Ugandans talk about—freedom he never had as a child. In his plea, Kwoyelo even played the family card, explaining that his father was killed during the war, and now his elderly mother has no one to take care of her.
“I’m already in my 40s,” he said, as though turning 40 in Uganda gives you automatic immunity from justice. He pleaded for leniency, not just for himself, but for his mother, who he says is now his responsibility. This emotional appeal is as common in Ugandan courtrooms as a chapatti stand on every street corner, but whether it’ll work in Kwoyelo’s favor remains to be seen.
Despite Kwoyelo’s heartfelt plea and rejection of cultural reconciliation, the courtroom drama is far from over. The ICD judges, led by Justice Michael Elubu, postponed Kwoyelo’s sentencing until October 25.
Kwoyelo, who was convicted back in August on 44 out of 78 charges, continues to face the possibility of a lengthy prison sentence. The charges against him are not your everyday petty crimes; we’re talking about aggravated robbery, murder as a crime against humanity, and kidnapping with intent to murder. In any other context, these are the kinds of crimes that would make you pack your bags and move to a remote village. But Kwoyelo seems determined to fight for a lighter sentence, despite the gravity of his actions.
Table: Key Charges Against Kwoyelo
| Charge | Details |
|---|---|
| Aggravated Robbery | Theft involving violence |
| Murder (Crimes Against Humanity) | Intentional killing during LRA operations |
| Kidnapping with Intent to Murder | Abduction of civilians during the war |
Kwoyelo’s trial and eventual sentencing bring back memories of the dark days of the LRA, a rebel group that terrorized northern Uganda for decades. The Acholi people, who suffered the most during the conflict, now face the difficult question of how to handle the former commanders of the very group that wreaked havoc on their homes. Traditional justice systems like mato-oput offer one path forward, but Kwoyelo’s refusal suggests that the scars of the past may be too deep for some to reconcile.
In a country where forgiveness is often seen as a virtue, Kwoyelo’s stance raises tough questions about justice, redemption, and the role of traditional rituals in modern legal systems. Can mato-oput work for someone like Kwoyelo, or is the international court’s process the only way forward? It’s a question that will be on the minds of many as this trial continues.
For now, all eyes are on October 25, when the court is expected to resume. Whether Kwoyelo will walk free to tend to his elderly mother or face a long sentence behind bars, only time will tell. One thing is clear: Uganda’s journey toward reconciliation with its past is far from over, and Kwoyelo’s case is a reminder of the complexities involved.
