STAY ALERT: Kampala Thief Strikes At Midnight, Keys, Padlock, Cash And Borrowed Phone Taken

KAMPALA — “The worst mistake you can ever do is to forget locking your doors with padlocks as you go to sleep.”

It’s a lesson I learned the hard way at 1am today, inside my two-room house in Gangu, Makindye Ssabagabo. I nearly survived death.

Just hours earlier I had been in Kitebi, visiting a friend, Andrew. The boda ride home was filled with casual talk. “Gangu is safe,” I told the rider. “If I ever get money, I’ll buy land and build here. You rarely hear of theft.”
The irony is not lost on me now.

I got home around midnight. Exhausted after a long day, I scrolled through emails and messages until 1am. In my tiredness, I made a mistake I swore I’d never make — I didn’t put the padlocks on the inside locks of my door.

Sleep came fast. Then instinct jolted me awake.
The lights in my sitting room snapped on.

At first I thought it was a dream. But something felt wrong.
Through the half-open bedroom door I saw a shadow. The intruder had come straight for what he wanted: my bedroom.

On the charger in the sitting room was a phone I’d only just borrowed yesterday. My own phone had gotten damaged, so a friend lent me theirs. I’d charged it all night so I could put in my SIM and start using it this morning.
I never got the chance.

He then moved to my bedroom. On the charger, glowing in the dark, was my work phone. Next to it, my laptop bag. Both were within his reach.
He stepped close to one pole of my bed and stretched his hand out.

Panic and adrenaline took over. I jumped out of bed “like I was possessed,” as my mum would later say, shouting at the top of my lungs.
The noise worked. The man bolted.

He slammed through the door with a thud, tore through the small gate outside my house, and vanished through the main gate into the night.
I ran after him, barefoot, to halfway across the compound — then stopped. What if he wasn’t alone?

The house fell silent, except for my heart hammering in my chest.
And the neighbors? I heard windows creak open. A few peeped out. That was all. No one came out. I’m sure they just double-checked their own locks and waited for the story in the morning.
“What a neighborhood,” I thought, still shaking. “They’ll read about it in the paper.”

When I went back inside, the damage was clear.
Gone was the friend’s phone — borrowed out of desperation, charged with hope, and stolen before I used it even once.
Gone too was some little money I had left on the table.
Also gone: my padlock, and my house keys.

That last part is what chills me most. He didn’t just take things. He took access.
If someone can sneak into your bedroom while you sleep, they can do anything to you.

My God works.
Had my laptop and work phone been taken, I would be sobbing by now. All my unfinished projects for the Gombe League, the Goldenposts Sacco, and pending scripts for pearlofafricanews.com could have been gone. That’s years of work. That can’t be replaced in a short while. God protected what matters most for my livelihood.

I called my mum immediately. We spoke for 20 minutes. She’s the only one who could calm me down as my pressure felt like it was going through the roof. Her advice was simple and urgent: “Change your locks. Take extra precautions from now on.”

This morning I’m writing this wide awake, still processing it. Kampala can feel safe until the one night it isn’t. One forgotten padlock, one moment of lowered guard, and your sense of safety is gone.

What a life we live in Kampala.

To anyone reading this, especially the youth:
Check your doors. Check your windows. Use real padlocks. Don’t assume “it won’t happen to me.”
And to those who think stealing is the way: please, work. Hustle the right way. Don’t hurt others to survive. What you take in minutes can destroy what someone built for years.
Because on July 23rd, 2026, in Gangu, it happened to me.

By Meddy Walusimbi Omuyiribi medywalusimbi@gmail.com