KANUNGU, UGANDA — At dawn on March 17, 2000, the rural hills of southwestern Uganda stirred like any other morning—roosters crowing, smoke rising from cooking fires, children walking to fetch water. By midday, the region would become the site of one of the deadliest cult-related mass killings in modern history. A church belonging to the Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God (MRTCG) erupted into flames, trapping and killing nearly 450 followers inside. In the days that followed, investigators uncovered hundreds more bodies in mass graves scattered across the sect’s properties, pushing the death toll beyond 700.
What began as a fringe apocalyptic movement in the late 1980s ended in a meticulously orchestrated mass murder—one that continues to haunt Uganda a quarter-century later.
The MRTCG was founded in 1989 by Credonia Mwerinde, a former bar owner who claimed to receive visions of the Virgin Mary, and Joseph Kibwetere, a retired civil servant who became the public face of the group. They were later joined by other influential figures, including former Catholic priest Dominic Kataribabo.
The group emerged during a period of profound social upheaval. HIV/AIDS was ravaging communities, killing thousands and fueling apocalyptic anxieties. Many Ugandans interpreted the epidemic as divine punishment or witchcraft, creating fertile ground for charismatic leaders promising salvation.
The MRTCG preached strict obedience to the Ten Commandments, enforced through extreme asceticism:
No sex
No speaking except through signs
No soap
No eating certain foods
Mandatory fasting and penance
Members surrendered their possessions and lived communally, awaiting the end of the world.
The leaders predicted that doomsday would arrive on December 31, 1999, preceded by three days of darkness beginning December 29. When the prophecy failed, pressure mounted. Followers had sold everything. Some demanded answers. Others threatened to leave.
Investigators now believe this crisis triggered the leaders’ deadly plan.
On the morning of the massacre, followers gathered at the Kanungu compound for what they were told would be a celebratory feast. Witnesses later reported that the group had slaughtered several cows and purchased crates of soda—an unusual extravagance for a sect known for harsh austerity.
Shortly after the gathering began, the church doors and windows were nailed shut from the outside. Fuel was poured around the building. Then came the fire.
The blaze consumed the structure within minutes. The victims—men, women, and children—were trapped. No one escaped. Nearly 450 bodies were recovered from the charred remains.
At first, authorities suspected a mass suicide. But the evidence soon pointed elsewhere.
As investigators combed through the Kanungu site, they began receiving reports from other MRTCG properties. What they found was even more disturbing.
At compounds in Rugazi, Buhunga, and Buziga, police unearthed hundreds of bodies buried in shallow pits and beneath latrines. Many victims showed signs of:
Poisoning
Strangulation
Stabbing
Blunt-force trauma
Some had been dead for weeks or months before the church fire. The killings were systematic, planned, and widespread.
By the end of the investigation, the death toll exceeded 700, making it one of the largest cult massacres since Jonestown in 1978.
Despite the scale of the killings, none of the MRTCG’s top leaders were ever found.
Credonia Mwerinde
Joseph Kibwetere
Dominic Kataribabo
Ursula Komuhangi
All vanished in the days before the fire. Ugandan authorities believe they fled the country and remain fugitives. Some investigators suspect they may have died long before the massacre, killed by internal power struggles. Others believe they orchestrated the entire operation and escaped with the sect’s remaining funds.
Twenty-five years later, their whereabouts remain unknown
The Kanungu massacre occurred at a time when global attention was focused on the new millennium, Y2K fears, and political transitions across Africa. Uganda’s government, led by President Yoweri Museveni, initially framed the tragedy as a “mass suicide,” a narrative that minimized state responsibility and delayed deeper investigation.
Local journalists and academics later criticized the government for failing to monitor the sect despite clear warning signs, including:
Reports of child labor
Forced fasting
Disappearances of members
Complaints from families who were denied access to relatives
A Makerere University report concluded that the massacre was “a mass murder disguised as a religious event,” facilitated by a lack of oversight and the leaders’ ability to operate in remote, impoverished communities
Today, Kanungu remains a quiet agricultural district. The church site is overgrown. Survivors and relatives of the dead still struggle with grief, shame, and unanswered questions.
The massacre left behind:
Orphaned children
Families who never recovered remains
Villages that lost entire households
A national trauma rarely discussed openly
For many Ugandans, the tragedy is a reminder of how desperation, poverty, and charismatic manipulation can converge with catastrophic consequences.
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