Dubai sells itself as a city of dreams—a glittering paradise where fortunes are made and lives are transformed. But behind the neon skyline, a darker reality thrives in the shadows. At the centre of one of the most shocking recent revelations is Charles “Abbey” Mwesigwa, a Ugandan man once behind the wheel of a London bus, now accused of masterminding a sex trafficking network that preys on the hopes of young women.
The BBC’s documentary Death in Dubai: #DubaiPortaPotty pulls back the curtain on a world that many prefer to ignore. In its telling, Abbey isn’t merely a social butterfly in Dubai’s nightlife scene—he’s the gatekeeper of a system built on lies, coercion, and the exploitation of women desperate for opportunity. Survivors describe how it begins innocently enough: a WhatsApp message, a TikTok connection, a promise of work in a hotel or supermarket. For many Ugandan women struggling to get by, such offers are lifelines. Yet upon arrival, the dream job evaporates. Instead, they’re presented with a bill—thousands of dollars for visas, flights, food, and accommodation. The only way to pay, they’re told, is through sex.
What unfolds from there is a descent into a shadowy underworld of luxury parties and extreme degradation. Women speak of being coerced into humiliating acts, sometimes with dozens of men, sometimes for the amusement of the wealthy clients who bankroll Dubai’s more decadent corners. These so-called “porta potty parties” are the city’s open secret, whispered about online but rarely acknowledged aloud. The women, meanwhile, live crammed into apartments, their passports often out of reach, their choices reduced to submission or destitution.
The tragedy doesn’t stop at exploitation. The deaths of two Ugandan women—Kayla Birungi in 2021 and 23-year-old Monic Karungi, better known as Mona Kizz, in 2022—cast a grim light on the dangers facing those trapped in this trade. Both fell from buildings in Al Barsha, their deaths labelled suicides by local authorities. But their families and fellow Ugandans have questioned those conclusions, pointing instead to the desperation and despair bred by trafficking networks. Their stories have become rallying cries in Kampala, fuelling anger and a demand for justice.
For his part, Abbey denies everything. He insists he is nothing more than a party promoter, a man who introduces wealthy clients to a glamorous lifestyle. He says the women who surround him are there by choice, that he has never forced anyone into sex, and that the deaths were tragic but unconnected to him. To his critics, though, these denials ring hollow. To them, he is the embodiment of a system where profit thrives on the backs of the powerless.
The fallout from the BBC investigation has been fierce. In Uganda, politicians, activists, and ordinary citizens are demanding stronger protections for those who seek work abroad. They argue that trafficking networks are not just the work of a single man but part of a larger machinery that feeds off poverty, migration, and the indifference of authorities. In Dubai, where appearances are everything, the scandal cuts against the city’s carefully cultivated image as a playground of the elite.
What makes Abbey’s story so chilling isn’t just the allegations of cruelty and manipulation, but how ordinary it all seems within the global landscape of modern slavery. Social media has become the recruiter’s friend, debt bondage remains the trafficker’s favourite weapon, and governments struggle to keep pace with crimes that span continents. The glitter of Dubai hides a truth that is both ugly and universal: where money talks loudest, the vulnerable are often silenced.
The story of Charles “Abbey” Mwesigwa is still unfolding, and the courts of law have yet to decide his fate. But the BBC’s revelations have already delivered a verdict of another kind. They remind us that behind every Instagram post of luxury cars and penthouse parties may lie the unseen suffering of those who thought they were chasing a dream. The party king of Dubai, as Abbey likes to be known, may one day face justice. Until then, his alleged empire remains a mirror of the world’s failure to protect its most vulnerable.
