Bududa — Peter Kibeti has returned to Kubewo village, Bududa district, a place he knows is dangerous and could kill him.
On 1st March 2010, landslides hit Namesti sub-county in Bududa district. Triggered by heavy rains, the landslides buried Nametsi, Namakansa, and Kubewo villages in Namesti parish, claiming more than 200 people and displacing hundreds of others.
Sixteen years after surviving the devastating Nametsi landslide, Kibeti once again lives on the slopes of Mount Elgon, where towering hills and fertile volcanic soils have sustained generations of farming families, but where heavy rains have also brought tragedy.
The government relocated Kibeti and other survivors to Kiryandongo District after the March 2010 disaster, one of Bududa's deadliest landslides.
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The resettlement was intended to give them a safer future away from the unstable mountain slopes. But several years later, Kibeti returned not because Nametsi had become safer, but because he could not build a life in Kiryandongo.
"I'm living in fear because the landslide might come again," he says.
"But we need the government to search for us a place which is fertile like this one in Nametsi.
In Kiryandongo, the place is very hot, and you cannot get the rain. Here we grow Irish potatoes, bananas, and coffee that sustain our lives."
He narrates. His words capture one of the most difficult questions facing governments as climate change increasingly displaces communities: Is relocation successful if people cannot earn a living where they are resettled?
For Kibeti, the answer was no. The land in Kiryandongo was safer, but it was also unfamiliar. The place is hotter, rainfall is less reliable, and farming conditions are very different from the cool, fertile slopes of Mount Elgon that his family had cultivated for generations.
Back in Nametsi, Kibeti lives with the knowledge that another landslide is possible. "We are afraid because of this mountainous place and also because of the rain," he says.
Yet returning has not solved his problems. After the landslide destroyed Nametsi Primary School was closed by the government, forcing children to travel long distances for education.
Health services are equally distant. Roads remain poor, making it difficult for farmers to transport produce to market. "We are forgotten by the government," Kibeti says.
"Since 2010 up to date, the government has not remembered us to come and check what is going on or the difficulties we are facing."
His story is not unique. Two years after the Nametsi tragedy, another landslide struck Bunakasala village in neighbouring Bumwalukani subcounty in Bududa District.
Nathan Wilson Wanasolo remembers the day with remarkable clarity. "On 20th June 2012, at exactly 1 p.m., the landslide occurred," he recalls.
"It killed eight people that we know. It swept away more than 20 houses. We lost all our things, our food crops, coffee, livestock, and poultry. We came here empty-handed. We don't have even a single shilling."
After spending years in temporary shelters, Wanasolo and other survivors were eventually resettled in Bunambutye.
The new houses offered safety from the unstable mountain slopes, but rebuilding lives has proved far more difficult than rebuilding homes.
His family of around 13 people shares a single house. Residents still struggle with access to water, electricity, schools, and livelihoods. Even today, Wanasolo worries about relatives who remained behind.
"They are still dying," he says, referring to people living in landslide-prone villages.
"The landslides have come again. We are losing our parents, sisters, and brothers." Four major landslides have occurred in Bududa District in the recent past. These include Buwali and Bukalasi/Bundesi, Bumayoka, and parts of Bubiita in the lower stream being affected by flash floods.
Climate-related disasters do not end when floodwaters recede or landslides stop moving.
For many families, displacement becomes a long and uncertain journey of rebuilding livelihoods, reconnecting communities, and deciding whether to remain in unfamiliar resettlement areas or return to places they know are dangerous.
Kibeti's story reflects a dilemma that scientists believe Uganda will face with increasing frequency over the coming decades.
Researchers increasingly believe these stories offer a glimpse of Uganda's future.
According to the World Bank's Groundswell Africa: Deep Dive into Internal Climate Migration in Uganda, climate change could force as many as 12 million Ugandans to move within the country's borders by 2050 under a high-emissions scenario if climate adaptation and inclusive development fail to keep pace.
Yet Kibeti's experience suggests that moving people is only part of the challenge. The bigger question is whether they can rebuild lives elsewhere. Unlike refugees fleeing conflict across international borders, these would be internal migrants, people leaving villages where farming has become increasingly difficult because of changing rainfall, prolonged drought, floods, environmental degradation, or repeated natural disasters, and seeking opportunities elsewhere in the country.
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The report argues that climate migration is unlikely to occur as one dramatic exodus. Instead, it will unfold gradually as households respond to shrinking harvests, declining water supplies, repeated disasters, and diminishing opportunities to earn a living.
Evidence suggests that this process is already underway. At Makerere University's School of Public Health, researchers recently launched the Cities of Youth project to examine how climate change is influencing migration into Uganda's rapidly growing urban centres.
The research focuses on cities such as Mbale and Mbarara, where environmental pressures are increasingly intersecting with youth migration, employment, health, and urban planning.
For the researchers, the question is no longer whether climate change will influence migration. It is how Uganda should prepare for it. And for families like Peter Kibeti's and Nathan Wanasolo's, that future is no longer a projection in a scientific report. It is already part of everyday life.
