No Signal, No Lifeline: Kaabong residents climb trees to search network
“We live like ghosts in our own country,” says Hon. Hillary Lokwang, Member of Parliament for Ik County.
Kaabong: In the shadow of Mount Morungole, where the wind carries silence more often than signal, a teenage boy climbs a tree. In one hand, he grips a branch. In the other, a Nokia phone.
His name is Lojore, and his destination is not adventure, it’s connectivity.
In Ik County, Uganda’s most remote and digitally invisible district, young people scale trees, ridges, and boulders every day, chasing something most Ugandans take for granted: a mobile network.
There is no telecom mast, no mobile money infrastructure, no internet nothing but air between the Ik people and the rest of the country.
“We live like ghosts in our own country,” says Hon. Hillary Lokwang, Member of Parliament for Ik County. “No voice, no visibility, no help. It’s not just a matter of convenience it’s life or death.”
When signal is survival
The Ik, one of Uganda’s smallest and most marginalized ethnic groups, number fewer than 10,000. They inhabit the mountainous corridor between Kenya and South Sudan, a region historically plagued by insecurity and neglect.
Now, in the digital age, their complete lack of connectivity has turned geographic isolation into existential vulnerability.
“A woman can bleed to death during childbirth and we cannot call for help,” says Angela Akol, a youth leader in Kamion Sub-county. “This isn’t just a technology issue it’s a humanitarian crisis.”
A generation in the trees
At Ik Seed Secondary School, teachers and students hike with smartphones and USB modems raised high like digital divining rods. Uploading coursework to UNEB portals sometimes takes hours if it happens at all.
“We call it ‘network hunting,’” says Samuel Lokwang, a teacher. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But we keep climbing.”
While urban schools embrace digital learning, Ik students miss scholarship deadlines they never hear about. Lessons are handwritten on blackboards while the rest of Uganda logs in.
Economically disconnected
The absence of telecom infrastructure also severs Ik County from Uganda’s mobile money economy, the financial lifeline for millions across the country.
“Women here cannot access mobile banking, report domestic violence, or apply for small business grants,” says Jessca Ruth Ataa, Executive Director of Nakere Rural Women Activists (NARWOA). “Digital exclusion is deepening gender inequality.”
Cash is scarce, and smallholder farmers cannot receive digital payments. Government development programs reliant on mobile platforms pass Ik by entirely.
Security in silence
Positioned near volatile international borders, Ik County is on the frontlines of cross-border cattle raids. Yet with no means of communication, these communities remain defenseless.
“By the time word of a raid reaches security forces, it’s too late,” says elder Lokiru Lomilo. “The livestock is gone. The homes are burned. And we’re left in ruins.”
Security personnel still rely on outdated radio systems and foot messengers delaying emergency response by days.
A leader’s solitary fight
Since 2016, MP Hillary Lokwang has made connectivity his top priority was lobbying ministries, telecom giants, and Parliament itself.
“I’ve done everything petitions, feasibility reports, site visits,” he says. “But it always ends with the same words: ‘We’ll look into it.’ No mast. No timeline. No answers.”
While other rural areas gain towers and signal, the Ik remain invisible on telecom maps.
“One mast. Just one,” he says. “That’s all we’re asking for.”
The meeting that echoed
At a recent stakeholder meeting held at Ik Seed Secondary School, frustration boiled over. What began as a technical forum became a plea for inclusion.
Key proposals emerged include; a solar-powered telecom mast in Kamion, satellite internet hotspots for schools and health centers, digital literacy programs for youth and partnerships with MTN, Airtel, and UTL to extend rural coverage.
But for now, these ideas remain on paper. There is no confirmed rollout, no funding, and no implementation plan.
A constitutional right denied
Uganda’s Digital Uganda Vision promises universal access to ICT services. But in Ik County, concepts like e-health, e-governance, or e-learning are not futuristic—they’re fictional.
“Access to information is a constitutional right,” Lokwang says. “Without a network, we are cut off from services, opportunity, and justice. How can we speak of unity if some citizens are left in a digital dark age?”
For the Ik, digital access is not a luxury, it’s a matter of dignity and survival.
Searching the sky
As twilight blankets the mountains of Kamion, a group of teenagers climbs a ridge, phones raised like beacons.
They are not searching for social media—they are searching for connection, for a chance, for a country that remembers they exist.
One bar of signal can bring; a voice from miles away, exam results, a government alert, an ambulance and a lifeline.
Do you have an advertisement or article you want to publish? Mail us at theugreports@gmail.com or WhatsApp +256757022363.
