By the Witness Radio team.

On August 24th this year, as Namala Christine turns 66, she might have been celebrating her life. Instead, she wonders what went wrong and now faces her next birthday homeless.

“I do not know why I am being punished to this extent,” she told the Witness Radio Journalist.

In 1968, at age eight, Namala joined her grandfather, Mr. Sam Walakira Musoke, on land in Kawaala Zone II, Rubaga Division. He bought it in 1955. Since then, Namala and her family have lived there. Today, NEMA classifies this land as a wetland.

Namala herself has lived on the land for more than 58 years.

On June 4th this year, the National Environmental Management Authority (NEMA) removed Namala from the land where she had lived for many years. When Witness Radio visited, she sat quietly on broken bricks, what was left of her home. Her face showed shock, sadness, and worry as she thought of her next step.

“As we grew up, each of us was given a portion of the land to settle on. Today, I am the eldest in the family, and I was entrusted with the responsibility of caring for our family’s land,” Namala revealed.

In my talk with her, as she remembered what happened on June 4, her voice shook, and tears came to her eyes as she spoke of how armed men tore down her house and everything the family owned.

“Everything has been destroyed; there is nothing I can show, not even household items. They didn’t allow me to remove any of my belongings from the house,” She told our team.

She now lives by chance. At night, she and other people who lost their homes sleep at the site in old clothes and bags.

“This is what my neighbors gave me. I use it as a mattress and blanket,” she said, explaining that they make a fire at night to keep warm.

After witnessing years of political and social change, Namala finds herself homeless and uncertain about the future.

“I hoped to live well up to death, but look, I don’t even know the next move. I don’t know what to do with my family,” she reveals.

Namala is among the hundreds of villagers in Kawaala Zone II who were evicted from their land.

A Witness Radio investigation found that many people forced out had lived on what is now called “a wetland by NEMA” as land users since the 1940s.

“We have people that we call Bataka (elders) in our Buganda culture. Those people lived on this land starting in the 1940s, and those are the people most of us bought land from,” Mr. Abbas Ssegujja, another resident who lost property worth millions during the evictions, told Witness Radio.

Some documents seen by Witness Radio show that those forced out had paid fees to the Buganda Land Board (BLB) since the 1940s. The families lived on Mailo land, one of Uganda’s forms of land ownership, which belonged to the Buganda Kingdom and is administered by the BLB.

According to Witness Radio’s Team Leader, Jeff Wokulira Ssebaggala, these families living in Kawaala Zone II are accepted by Ugandan law. Jeff says that when residents have real proof of land use or legal stay, government offices must check their claim before removing them.

He added that, in addition to people taking over wetlands, NEMA must also follow the rules. Otherwise, people forced out deserve to be paid for what they lost, and their houses should be rebuilt. NEMA’s committee responsible for overseeing eviction processes is expected to ensure that investigations into lawful occupation status are conducted before any eviction takes place.

“NEMA is in a better position to establish and understand the historical and social attachment of this land to the urban poor community before passing a judgment of eviction and implementing it,” Ssebaggala stressed.

Article 26 of Uganda’s Constitution (1995) gives everyone the right to own property, alone or with others, and says the government cannot take property unless it is needed for public use, and where prompt, fair, and adequate compensation is paid before the taking of possession, Article 237(8) of the Constitution protects the rights of those who legally live on Mailo, Freehold, or Leasehold land, and the Land Act, Cap. 236, also protects Ugandans like Namala.

Uganda has four land ownership types: Mailo, Freehold, Customary, and Leasehold. Mailo is split into two: private and official Mailo. In Kawaala Zone II, people have lived on official Mailo land.

In Uganda, a Kibanja holder is a tenant who uses land without an official ownership paper. The 1995 Constitution and the Land Act (Cap 236) state that Kibanja holders are legal or true tenants. This provides them with strong protection and keeps them safe from removal without a fair reason.

“The government has not clearly matched laws protecting the environment with property rights where people already live in protected places. Because there are no clear plans for moving people, environmental groups focus on restoring the land, and affected families look to property laws for help. So, even though the government has the right to repair and protect wetlands, any removal or demolition must comply with the rules, provide fair compensation, and involve those affected. If needed, they must also help people find new homes.” He added.

Notices seen by Witness Radio indicated that Namala and others were occupying a wetland. Residents had been directed to remove their structures at their own expense before the forced demolition.

NEMA’s Public Relations Officer, William Lubuulwa, told Witness Radio that the affected people are occupying a wetland. He insists that the evictions are lawful. Namala and others had lived on their land since at least the 1940s. This was long before the older NEMA Act CAP 153, which was replaced with CAP 181 in 2019, was enacted.

By the Witness Radio Team.

As the world races to abandon fossil fuels and embrace renewable energy to avert climate catastrophe, development banks, governments, and corporations promote this transition as a global priority. In Asia, this transition, presented as a path to a clean-energy future, is shadowed by serious concerns about who bears its costs.

However, for many Indigenous peoples, farmers, fisherfolk, and urban poor living on lands targeted by these projects, the energy transition has led to displacement, repression, and the loss of livelihoods.

This alternative reality is documented in a new regional report, Financing the Transition, Silencing Defenders. The report details how communities raising concerns about renewable energy projects across seven Asian countries have faced reprisals ranging from harassment and arrests to military occupation and killings.

The report challenges the region’s energy transition. It argues that renewable energy projects use vast resources, burdening Indigenous and local communities who have contributed little to the climate crisis. The report documents how these projects cause displacement, loss of cultural identity, ecological disruption, health risks, and increased debt.

Security forces were often reported to have carried out reprisals. Police and the military were frequently deployed to sites. Communities described beatings, arrests, and intimidation during consultations, compensation, and construction.

Rather than providing security, the report concludes that “in most contexts, their presence does not make communities feel secure, but rather threatened and silenced.”

The report goes on to describe how, in several documented cases, security personnel forcibly entered villages, dismantled community barricades, demolished homes, and stopped peaceful protests. According to the report, these confrontations often escalated tensions and contributed to the criminalization of local resistance.

The report underscores a central argument: when communities raise concerns, their voices are systematically silenced through SLAPPs, attacks, criminalization, intimidation, and discrimination—primarily by local authorities and security forces. These practices form a system of control involving governments, security forces, corporations, and development banks to repress dissent and maintain project momentum.

The 44-page report examined 12 renewable energy and energy-transition projects across seven Asian countries—India, Indonesia, Pakistan, the Philippines, Tajikistan, Thailand, and the Maldives. It was produced by the Coalition for Rights in Development, a global network representing over 100 social movements, civil society organizations, grassroots groups, and partners.

Despite variations in scale and technology among these projects, affected communities across these countries consistently reported being excluded from decision-making processes.

Many projects moved forward without real consultation or Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC) of Indigenous Peoples. Communities said they were told about decisions after the fact, kept from key project details, or pressured to accept compensation.

As the report notes, when projects exclude rights holders from decision-making, it often leads to protests, legal challenges, and revoked permits. These outcomes raise costs and cause delays. More importantly, leaving out affected communities creates mistrust toward specific projects and the broader energy transition narrative that justifies them.

In Assam, India, Indigenous Karbi, Naga, and Adivasi communities oppose a solar project projected to affect more than 20,000 people. Community representatives report that consultations were held in only 9 of the 23 impacted villages, leaving thousands excluded from the process. They claim the project threatens livelihoods, land rights, biodiversity, bamboo forests, and elephant habitats.

“The project was approved without ensuring the communities’ Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC). Consultations were held in only 9 out of 23 impacted villages, thus excluding thousands from the process,” the report states.

Researchers found that when communities attempt to challenge the harmful impacts of these projects, they are often labeled anti-development, extremists, or threats to national interests. In response, authorities, corporations, and local officials have reportedly targeted outspoken community leaders and sought to isolate them.

According to the report, “government authorities, private companies, and other actors who have a vested interest in the projects identify the most vocal community members and human rights defenders who are raising concerns and stigmatize them.”

In another case, in Pakistan, activists opposing hydropower projects reported receiving threats from authorities. They have also been accused of working against national development goals. The Madyan Hydropower Project is funded by the World Bank. The Torwali Indigenous community worries about their land, culture, and future.

Similarly, in the Philippines, environmental defenders and Indigenous leaders who oppose dam projects have faced “red-tagging.” This is a tactic that labels activists as communist sympathizers or security threats. The report says these tactics have created fear and deterred people from participating in public consultations.

Poorly planned projects imposed without meaningful consent harm communities, and those voicing concerns face intimidation and reprisals.

Many projects are led by major public development finance institutions. These include the Asian Development Bank, the World Bank, and the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank. These institutions are directly implicated in reported abuses and the silencing of communities.

The findings directly challenge development banks: they must choose either to fund actors implicated in human rights violations or to actively leverage their influence to uphold community rights and genuine participation in Asia’s energy transition.

“Banks can either look the other way and continue funding government and corporate entities that have historically disregarded human rights and environmental sustainability, or they can use their influence to ensure that the highest standards and safeguards are upheld. The report states that development banks have responsibilities regarding both the prevention of and response to reprisals,” the report states.

The report calls on development banks to improve environmental and social safeguards. Banks should conduct thorough risk assessments and implement measures to ensure safe, meaningful engagement with affected communities. This should happen throughout the energy transition.

Development banks invoke the push to abandon fossil fuels to underscore urgency, but the report warns that this urgency is sometimes misused to accelerate approvals, rush assessments, and limit community consultation—thereby undermining both human rights and the legitimacy of the transition.