Victims of the crossing: How corruption turns the poor into criminals

Elegu, Amuru | Along the dusty outskirts of Elegu Town Council, 32-year-old Ojok [name changed] balances eight yellow jerry cans of cooking oil on his motorcycle.

The engine coughs once before settling into a low grumble. When I met him one night, like many nights before, he was preparing to slip through a narrow bush that leads into South Sudan, not because he wanted to break the law, but because of corruption at the border.

Ojok once carried small consignments of cooking oil and fuel for local traders, earning just enough to support his young family. But, each time he approached the Elegu border point, officers demanded “facilitation fees” – sometimes shs20,000, sometimes shs50,000 and sometimes far more.

“I used to trade properly; but the officers there made it impossible because every step needed a bribe. When you cannot pay, they delay you for days, impound your goods or invent paperwork errors,” Ojok disclosed.

“One day they said my route card was not signed. But it was; they just wanted money,” he added.

After years of harassment, Ojok gave up on the official route and joined the growing number of boda boda riders paid to guide goods across illegal bush paths – a dangerous job but one that does not involve begging uniformed men for mercy.

“We have become smugglers because the border forces us; it is survival and you just pay them shs10,000 when they stop you, life goes on,” Ojok said.

Why smuggling becomes a lifeline

Elegu, Uganda’s busiest land border with South Sudan, was upgraded in 2020 to cut corruption and speed up trade, yet traders say the sleek buildings and digital systems only mask what has become a marketplace for extortion.

As corruption grows, more traders abandon the official crossing and rely on unmonitored bush routes. Boda riders like Ojok are now the lifeline for many who cannot afford the “border taxes” imposed by corrupt officers.

A Transparency International Uganda study confirms Ojok’s experience. The study reveals that small traders pay shs20,000-80,000 in unofficial fees per trip, often several times a day.

“You stop for customs, then police, then army, and then revenue: every stop wants something small. I once paid shs100,000 to secure release after officers fabricated a documentation error,” Rashid, a truck driver who works the route disclosed.

For people like Ojok, those bribes can wipe out an entire day’s earnings. A representative of the Elegu business community calls the situation predictable.

“Smuggling is no longer a crime here; it is coping. If you follow the law, you lose money, if you pay bribes, you lose money; only the illegal route allows the poor to survive,” she disclosed on anonymity.

However, even when URA enforcement teams patrol these areas, riders can often pay a smaller fee: shs10,000 or shs20,000 to be let through, and it is a business and everyone is eating from it.

At Elegu, everything from cooking oil to counterfeit medicine and illegal fuel crosses quietly. According to a URA officer who requested anonymity, small-scale smuggling is tolerated because “it oils the system,” while large smugglers with political protection face little interference.

In local markets, the effects are visible: cheap, unsafe fuel, expired cooking oil and goods of unknown original flooding stalls and highways.

“We buy because it is cheaper, but sometimes, the oil smells bad. You cannot trust anything from that border,” says Grace, a vendor in Pabbo Town Council.

Politics protects the rot

In an interview with this publication, John Idra Kovuki, the chairperson of LC III for Elegu Town Council, admitted that the system rot is no secret.

“Everyone here knows the smuggling chains do not survive on boys like Ojok; they survive because people with titles and flags on their cars shield them,” Idra revealed.

“If you touch the small fish, you are praised; if you attempt to question the big ones, you are told you are fighting the government.”

The LCIII chairman’s voice carries both exhaustion and defiance, reflecting a local government structure routinely undermined by powerful interests.

He, however, noted that they have raised concerns about these habits of smuggling and many times they have been accused of sabotaging revenue and security operations.

“Yet the same officials who silence us are the ones escorting trucks through ungazetted routes at night; politics has turned corruption into a protected species,” he added.

“Ojok is not the problem; he is the result. The system grooms these boys, uses them, and discards them when pressure mounts … .until the political shield is broken, Elegu will remain a crime scene masquerading as a border post,” Idra disclosed.

Additionally, a town agent at Elegu town council, speaking on anonymity, told tndNews that he sees the daily realities of corruption at the border and defines it as being real.

“We see it every day; the boys who push motorcycles with contraband are mere pawns; the real players sit in offices. They call us to ‘cooperate’ –which simply means keep quiet when their trucks or boys pass,” he disclosed.

He, however, disclosed that the moment they intercept goods from someone connected, a phone call comes from above and they are told to let the motorcycle or vehicle pass and tell them that it is theirs.

According to him, selective justice is what trapped Ojok and driven by unemployment, they are lured by small payouts, thus, joining the bicycle smugglers, the lowest rung in a much larger machinery.

“These youths join smuggling because that is the only economy left for them but the system is designed to catch the poor and spare the powerful; Ojok never stood a chance,” the Town agent revealed.

At Elegu Police Post, a young officer spoke with a mix of resignation and frustration glancing toward the highway where trucks rumbled through the night.

“We arrest the boys because they are the ones we can catch referring to the small-time smugglers who ferry goods across the porous border on motorcycles and footpaths,” he admitted.

“Everyone knows the big trucks passing at 2 a.m. have escorts; if we block them, we get transferred the next week; his words hung heavy, heavy at a chain of protection far above his rank-one that ensured certain vehicles are never stopped, no matter the suspicions.”

He further noted that Elegu is not run by the district or political wings in Amuru rather it is run by interests from individuals that are not based in the district.

“I keep saying this: Elegu is not run by the district; it is run by interests; hence, until the politics around this border stops shielding thieves with ties, the rot will deepen, and more jokes will fall,” he told this publication.

A few kilometres away, at the Uganda Revenue Authority’s customs point, a senior officer offered a similarly bleak picture; he leaned back in his chair, lowering his voice even though no one seemed to be listening.

The officer’s tone suggested a system where honesty was not just difficult but dangerous where the lines between enforcement and complicity blurred under the weight of influence, intimidation and the invisible power brokers who decide what could and could not be questioned.

“Corruption here is layered; there are officers who want to do their job but the pressure from the political side is unbearable; some smugglers are untouchable,” he said.

Together, their testimonies revealed a border economy shaped less by law and more by the silent hierarchies that governed who faced punishment and who passed through untouched.

According to the officer, every time they try to clean up the mess at Elegu, someone in Kampala accuses them of overstepping. Thus, corruption at the Elegu border point has political godfathers, and without dismantling those networks, it will not stop.

“Elegu’s corruption is not accidental; it is engineered. The loopholes are protected, the culprits are recycled, and the whistleblowers are isolated, so when the system rewards impunity, young men like Ojok become collateral damage,” he revealed.

On the other hand, a Customs Enforcement Officer who preferred anonymity told TNDNews that URA is curbing the round-tripping of goods and other forms of illicit trade across porous borders through strategic deployment of teams at these border points and implementation of laws and signing of agreements with partner states.

“We signed a bilateral agreement for information sharing with our sister nation-South Sudan. Such mechanisms have been effective as we have impounded approximately 25 million sticks of cigarettes in the FY2021-2022,” he disclosed.

According to him, it is a collective responsibility of everyone so that Uganda can change, and the fight against economic terrorism is a war that Uganda can win.

“It is you and I to change the country; we can change the economic trajectory of our nation through continuous joint engagements and synergies between the private sector and government agencies,” he urged.

Adding that, “URA has zero tolerance for corruption. If you encounter a corrupt officer, identify them to us for the prosecution process to ensue. If we are going to change this country, we have to say no to corruption in every sector.”

For those like Ojok, the personal cost is immense. Every night he rides through the dark carrying illegal fuel, he risks arrest, extortion, violent robbery or worse.

“I do not want to smuggle,” he says quietly. “But if I stop, my children will not eat.”