Uganda gets caught-up in Trump’s immigration wars

What does Museveni’s government stand to gain from the deportation of Kilmar Abrego Garcia to Uganda?

NEWS ANALYSIS | RONALD MUSOKE | When U.S. immigration officials recently detained Kilmar Abrego Garcia, an asylum seeker from El Salvador, his fate took a startling turn. Rather than send him back to his homeland in central America, the U.S government moved to deport him to Uganda, a country more than 11,250km away and where he has no roots, no family, and no history.

It now appears Abrego Garcia’s case has become symbolic of President Donald Trump’s aggressive immigration agenda, in which deportations are no longer about returning people to their countries of origin, but about reshaping global migration through deals struck with governments far from the migrants’ homes. For Uganda, the sudden role as a “receiving country” places it squarely in the spotlight of the unfolding controversy.

The deportation of Abrego Garcia now sits at the intersection of U.S. domestic politics, international diplomacy, and human rights law. It also raises urgent questions: Why is Uganda willing to take in controversial U.S. deportees? Why is there so much secrecy about what Uganda stands to gain from Trump’s “outsourcing” of immigration enforcement? And at what cost to its sovereignty and reputation?

A young man on the run

To understand how Uganda became a possible destination for Abrego Garcia, one must first understand the path that brought him to the United States.

At just 16 years old, in 2011, Abrego Garcia fled El Salvador. His country was gripped by violence, dominated by fearsome gangs, and his family had already suffered at their hands. Like many Salvadorans seeking survival, he looked north. In the U.S state of Maryland, he reunited with his brother, who had since obtained U.S. citizenship.

Abrego Garcia slowly began to forge a new life. In time, he married an American woman, Jennifer Vasquez Sura, and the couple had children. By every measure, he was a man trying to build a life beyond the shadows of violence. Yet U.S immigration law did not favour him. His asylum application was filed more than a year after his arrival, and in 2019, an immigration judge ruled it invalid. Still, the judge acknowledged the dangers of El Salvador, granting him “withholding of removal,” which allowed him to stay in the U.S. under supervision but denied him permanent status.

For years, he complied with the rules. He regularly checked in with immigration authorities, lived openly with his family, and abided by the conditions placed upon him. But in March, this year, the fragile protection unraveled. He was deported back to El Salvador despite the court’s ruling, only to end up in the country’s infamous maximum security CECOT prison. His wife sued, and eventually the U.S. Supreme Court ordered his return.

Then came new charges of human trafficking which he denied as politically motivated. Released by a Tennessee court this August, he barely tasted freedom before immigration officers seized him again. This time, the destination was neither El Salvador nor freedom. It was Uganda.

A new destination

Abrego Garcia has no connection to Uganda. He has no family here, no history, and no ties. Yet the Uganda government has recently agreed to a “temporary arrangement” with Washington to receive and host some deportees like Abrego Garcia who cannot be sent back to their countries of origin.

According to Uganda’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the agreement which was concluded this August was part of a broader undisclosed bilateral cooperation deal. Officials insisted that Uganda would not accept individuals with criminal records or unaccompanied children and would prefer deportees of African origin.

But the details remain murky. Even senior officials have expressed skepticism. “We are talking about cartels: people who are unwanted in their own countries,” said Henry Okello Oryem, Uganda’s Minister of State for Foreign Affairs in charge of international cooperation. “How can we integrate them into local communities in Uganda?” he recently told the Associated Press.

Civil society voices have gone further. Prominent human rights lawyer Nicholas Opiyo compared the deal to human trafficking: “Are they refugees or prisoners? The proposed deal runs afoul of international law. We are sacrificing human beings for political expediency.”

Former Ugandan intelligence chief Gen. (Rtd) David Sejusa was even more blunt. “Why is Uganda getting involved in these shameful things?” he tweeted on Aug.26. “No pride left, no ideological sensibilities left, no moral fibre left, no shame at all?”

Gen. Sejusa was reacting to some of the sarcasm in the television commentary in the U.S. where conservative Fox News host, Jesse Watters, mocked Abrego Garcia’s potential deportation, quipping about Uganda’s Tonto (fermented banana beer), grasshoppers, and mountain gorillas. To him, the case was a joke about American taxpayer money and frequent-flyer miles.

“The Maryland dad is about to be a Uganda dad. We don’t know exactly what Kilmar is going to be doing in Uganda, but he had it a lot better in El Salvador. He was at a low-security prison, fishing, gardening, working out, playing chess, playing soccer,” Watters recently said.

“Uganda, and I’m trying to be as diplomatic as I can, is a dangerous, corrupt, and polluted place. They just outlawed beating your wife, like literally last year. Polygamy, still legal.  Kilmar would be fishing in his home country just a few miles from his mother. There aren’t any margaritas in Uganda, but they do have Tonto; it’s booze made out of fermented bananas.

“We’re importing a bottle just to sample it, but Uganda has a 15% tariff rate, so that’s going to be some pricey banana beer. And Kilmar won’t find his grandma’s favourite tortilla recipe. Grasshoppers are a delicacy in Uganda. Good news. Soccer’s big in Uganda, and so’s fishing. And if Kilmar has some spare time, he can check out the mountain gorillas at Uganda’s national parks.

“The Maryland dad sure is racking up a lot of frequent flyer miles on your dime. We paid to send him to El Salvador, bring him back, and then run him through the court system, and now send him on a 17-hour flight to Uganda. We wish him well in Uganda. I don’t think the Ugandans are going to sing for him like they do in Maryland.”

Abrego Garcia has likened his potential deportation to Uganda to a death sentence. In a notice filed with immigration officials on August 23, he detailed his fears of persecution in Uganda based on race, nationality, and political opinion; torture at the hands of state authorities; and the risk that Uganda would re-deport him back to El Salvador, where he had already been tortured.

His lawyers argue that sending him to Uganda, a country with which he has no ties, amounts to “chain deportation,” a practice condemned under international law. Instead, they have requested Costa Rica, a country that has indicated willingness to accept him and grant him legal status.

So far, however, Washington appears intent on Uganda.

Uganda in the spotlight

It appears Uganda was not chosen by accident. The Independent reached out to the U.S embassy in Kampala asking about the modalities of the bilateral agreement between the U.S government and Uganda. The Independent wanted to know how many deportees the U.S is sending over to Uganda over the coming months.

We also wanted to know why the U.S would send over “dangerous people” to poor countries like Uganda who, in the words of Tricia McLaughlin’s (the Assistant Secretary at the U.S Department for Homeland Security) recently described as  “so barbaric that their home countries refused to take them back”?

Why has the U.S. chosen countries like Uganda to host people who the U.S government could comfortably deal with (given the amount of resources and competent personnel at its disposal)? Who, for instance, pays for the welfare of these people the U.S government wants Uganda to keep on its behalf? How long are they going to stay here? What happens when they die here? Is all this burden on the shoulders of the Ugandan government?

US embassy response

 In an email response to all these questions, the U.S embassy in Kampala noted in a statement attributed to a spokesperson for the U.S. Department of State that: “The United States has concluded an Agreement for Cooperation in the Examination of Protection Requests, also known as a Safe Third Country Agreement (STCA), with Uganda.

It added: “We don’t comment on the content of private diplomatic negotiations. However, we would note that for decades, Uganda has hosted refugees from across Africa and has one of the world’s most comprehensive protection regimes for refugees.”

Indeed, on Aug. 21, the government of Uganda confirmed signing the bilateral cooperation agreement with the U.S government. Vincent Bagiire Waiswa, the Permanent Secretary in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs confirmed it in short statement posted on the X page of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

The price of cooperation

Uganda is not alone. In fact, Washington has been quietly building similar arrangements across the Global South. In July, the southern African kingdom of Eswatini is believed to have taken in five men with criminal records. These were deported there and placed in solitary confinement. Reports suggest the deal was linked to tariff reductions on Eswatini’s exports.

Uganda’s neighbour to the north, the conflict-prone South Sudan, has already taken in eight  deportees while Uganda’s neighbour to the Southwest, Rwanda, has agreed to take in 250 deportees. Apparently seven of those deportees arrived in the country in mid-August, according to the Rwandan government spokesperson, Yolande Makolo.

Close to the U.S, El Salvador ironically, itself a frequent source of migrants, accepted 300 Venezuelan deportees while Costa Rica and Panama have both agreed to receive deportees from countries as far-flung as Afghanistan, China, Ghana, and Vietnam.

Experts The Independent has reached out to say Uganda’s willingness to enter such an arrangement cannot be separated from the broader dynamics of the most recent U.S.–Uganda relations.

For instance, at the beginning of 2024, the Joe Biden administration suspended Uganda from the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA) trade deal, citing gross human rights abuses. That move cut off duty-free access to the U.S. market for dozens of Ugandan products. Then, this year, the Donald Trump administration slapped a 15% tariff on Ugandan goods as part of his global tariff wars.

In July, this year, the U.S. further reduced the validity of Ugandan non-immigrant visas from two years to three months, citing widespread abuse of the system by Ugandans. For a country whose economy relies heavily on diaspora remittances and international trade, these restrictions hit hard.

Connecting the dots

Analysts argue Kampala views the bilateral agreement as a potential bargaining chip–an opening to restore lost privileges. “This could be the entry point to strengthen relations between Kampala and Washington,” said Ahmed Hadji, an Adjunct Senior Fellow at the Centre for Policy and Strategic Studies (CPSS) and Provost at the Lincoln Institute for Diplomacy and International Relations in Kampala.

The government insisting that this was a “temporary” exercise is meant to calm down the nerves of Ugandans, Hadji said, adding that, the emphasis on acceptance of African deportees speaks to proximity but also to the spirit of pan-Africanism.

“That we can receive our own colleagues and keep them here but it’s also easier to send them back to their home countries from here,”  he told The Independent.

Hadji pointed The Independent to possible tariff reductions, visa reforms, and even Uganda’s reinstatement into AGOA. Indeed, recent talks between U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and President Yoweri Museveni highlighted “opportunities to deepen cooperation on migration, reciprocal trade, and commercial ties.” The timing is no coincidence.

Critics raise the alarm

Still, human rights advocates in Uganda and beyond have condemned the deal as exploitative. Moses Owiny, the Founder and Chief Executive of the Centre for Multilateral Affairs, a thinktank based in Kampala worries about the long-term consequences for Uganda’s global image. “This policy risks cementing the image of African nations as places associated with hardship and instability, where the world’s most vulnerable are sent to face uncertain fates,” he warns.

“The willingness of countries like Uganda, Rwanda, and Eswatini to accept these deportees reinforces a perception of these nations as inferior or subordinate, perpetuating a narrative that diminishes their global standing.”

“Furthermore, the acceptance of such deals by these countries’ leaders suggests a transactional approach, likely driven by personal or political gains rather than patriotic or principled motives,” he told The Independent.

But Owiny quickly gives a realistic view of the world. He says the decision by the U.S. government to send individuals deemed “dangerous criminals” to poorer, resource-constrained African countries like Uganda reflects a stark reality of international politics, where morality often takes a backseat to power dynamics.

“In a global system dominated by powerful nations, weaker countries are frequently pressured to comply with the demands of influential states like the U.S. The U.S. appears to be offloading individuals it considers undesirable, including those whose home countries have refused to accept them, as noted by Tricia McLaughlin, the Assistant Secretary in the Department of Homeland Security.”

“This choice is not about the U.S. lacking the resources or capability to manage these individuals domestically–given its vast wealth and competent personnel–but rather about prioritizing the protection of its own interests and resources.”

“The U.S. perceives these individuals, often from developing nations, as an unwarranted burden. Meanwhile, the willingness of poorer nations like Uganda to accept such deportees highlights a troubling dynamic: these governments, often driven by self-serving political motives rather than national interests or principled values, agree to these deals. This perpetuates a cycle where weaker nations are relegated to accepting the ‘rejects’ of more powerful countries, compromising their own dignity and sovereignty.”

But Ahmed Hadji told The Independent that Ugandans shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that the world works based on interests and the deportation deal between Uganda and the U.S is all about interests. “No one has the details of the modalities of the bilateral agreement but the deal has implications on the country’s economy and on the mobility of Ugandans.”

Uganda’s gamble

Whether Uganda stands to gain from this arrangement remains to be seen. Optimists like Simon Mulongo, an international relations specialist see the deal as consistent with Uganda’s international obligations, a way to showcase Uganda’s humanitarian record while securing diplomatic leverage with Washington.

But skeptics warn the risks outweigh the rewards. In the end, the gamble is clear; Uganda is betting that short-term concessions from Washington will outweigh the long-term damage to its image and sovereignty.

Back in Maryland, the fate of Kilmar Abrego Garcia is not yet sealed. His lawyers continue to fight deportation, even pressing for nearby Costa Rica instead of distant Uganda. His wife and children remain in Maryland, caught between hope and fear.

But his case has already become much more than personal. It is a litmus test for the limits of President Trump’s immigration policies, for the willingness of African states to shoulder burdens created in Washington, and for the resilience of international norms meant to protect the vulnerable.

For Uganda, it may mark the start of a fraught new chapter in its relations with the United States, one where deportees arrive not because they chose the country, but because powerful nations chose it for them. For Abrego Garcia, it may determine whether he is remembered as a father exiled to a land he never knew or as the man whose case exposed the true cost of America’s immigration wars.