The story of 78-year-old Edward Nalwamba is a heartbreaking testament to the human cost of shifting political tides. A retired pastor who has called Colorado home since 2002, Nalwamba is now facing the imminent threat of deportation to Uganda—a nation currently grappling with both an unstable, authoritarian government and a deadly, escalating Ebola outbreak. For over two decades, Nalwamba lived quietly under an “order of supervision,” a status that allowed him to remain in the U.S. despite a standing deportation order. However, following the administrative overhaul that began in early 2025, that grace period was abruptly revoked. Since September, he has been held in a private detention facility in Aurora, Colorado, and if nothing changes, he will be sent on a flight back to a landscape he describes as a death trap.
The tragedy of this situation is compounded by the sheer fragility of Nalwamba’s health. Friends and legal counsel report that his condition has deteriorated rapidly over the last nine months of confinement. He is not merely an elderly man in a cell; he is a target of a regime he fled decades ago after being abducted and interrogated by Ugandan security forces for refusing to force his congregation to support the long-standing presidency of Yoweri Museveni. Even from the safety of the United States, his fear never truly vanished, kept alive by threats he received years ago and the persistent reports of the Ugandan government continuing to hunt political opponents. Sending him back is not just a regulatory action; it is, his supporters fear, a death sentence.
The timing of his deportation is particularly harrowing, as it lands squarely at the intersection of a global health crisis and a massive shift in U.S. domestic priorities. While the U.S. government has significantly scaled back its international humanitarian efforts and dismantled agencies like USAID, it has simultaneously funneled record-breaking funding into the Department of Homeland Security. Despite the CDC issuing “enhanced precautions” regarding travel to Uganda due to the growing Ebola epidemic, immigration officials seem determined to proceed. The administrative machine has become so focused on execution that the human variables—the state of a man’s health or the dangers he faces in his homeland—have been rendered virtually irrelevant.
The ordeal of his immigration journey is a cautionary tale about how easily a person can fall through the cracks of a complex legal system. Nalwamba’s initial attempts to secure asylum were sabotaged decades ago when his first attorney vanished without filing essential paperwork, leaving him in a state of legal limbo. This administrative failure, combined with the U.S. government’s current lack of transparency, has created a nightmare for his current lawyer, Joy Athanasiou. She is left to fight a battle without the full record of his case, as requests for his files under current administrative protocols remain largely ignored or incomplete, leaving both him and his legal team in the dark as the clock ticks down.
Beyond the legal technicalities lies a deep moral question about how the United States treats those who come to its shores seeking refuge, only to find themselves ensnared in a system that often prioritizes speed over justice. Upon his arrest in September 2025, Nalwamba had his personal belongings seized, including the very documentation that might have served as evidence for his protection. In a detention center operated by a private prison company, his autonomy has been stripped away. He is an old man, a man of faith, and a man who has lived peacefully in his community for twenty years, yet he is being treated as an urgent threat that must be removed at any cost.
As Tuesday approaches, the case of Edward Nalwamba serves as a stark reminder of the individual souls buried beneath policy decisions. For the friends who have stood by him and the attorney fighting for his life, this is not just another immigration case; it is a fight for the basic preservation of human life. Whether it is the risk of falling victim to a localized disease outbreak or facing the wrath of a government that has sought him for years, the path forward for Nalwamba is fraught with peril. His future now rests on whether the system that detained him can be moved to see beyond the bureaucracy and recognize the vulnerable human being waiting to be spared a return to a nightmare he worked so hard to escape.
