The short answer is yes. But now that you’ve clicked on this article, you probably know the decision is not that straightforward.

While important, salary is only one part of the equation. Before you hand in that resignation letter, it is worth considering whether that new job will genuinely improve your life, or if it’s simply a higher figure paired with a lifestyle that pushes you into quick loans.

Salary vs Real Living Costs
A higher salary, plus allowances, does not always translate into more money in your pocket.

Imagine you’re earning UGX 800,000 at a workplace where transportation costs UGX 4,000 a day, and meals are provided. Now compare that to a job paying UGX 1.5 million, but requiring higher transport costs, self-paid daily meals, and rent in a more expensive area closer to the workplace.

On paper, the second job pays almost twice as much. Ku ground, the additional expenses, coupled with higher day-to-day costs, could significantly shrink the difference. Depending on your circumstances, the lower-paying job could leave you with a similar amount of disposable income or even more savings in the long run.

This explains why many people earning an average salary in upcountry districts often appear financially stable compared to some higher earners in Kampala. Lower living costs, such as buying the same-sized tomatoes at UGX 300 instead of UGX 700, can make a smaller salary go much further.

Before making a move, calculate your actual monthly expenses, not just your expected income.

The Hidden Cost of a Higher Salary
Money has value, but so does your time.

What does the new employer expect in return for the higher pay? Will you be working longer hours, taking calls after work, or even be required to report on some weekends? Some roles stretch beyond office hours and quietly follow you home, leaving little room for rest, family, and personal space.

You may be comfortable making those trade-offs because the financial reward somehow justifies them. However, Ugandans are increasingly relying on side gigs to cope with the rising cost of living and to create space for savings beyond the main salary, however big it may seem in the first two to three months.

The real question is not whether the new job pays more, but whether it pays enough to justify losing control of your time and ability to build and progress outside work.

Remember, some jobs don’t just take time; they gradually shape your limits, and over time, quietly define how replaceable you become.

Work Environment
Many times, people only appreciate a healthy workplace after leaving one.

A supportive manager, respectful colleagues, reasonable workloads, and clear growth opportunities can make a significant difference to your quality of life. Research shows that workplace conditions can influence job satisfaction as much as compensation itself.

Before accepting an offer, do your homework. If possible, talk to current or former employees of the organisation offering a higher salary.

A higher salary can quickly lose its value if it comes with constant pressure, poor leadership, or exploitative behaviour such as harassment and yelling bosses. Is the new workplace one where you can trust the people around you, or one where you are always on edge?

Career Growth & Stability
Though often overlooked, where is the new role taking you? Will the better-paying job build skills that strengthen your CV or open real promotion opportunities, or does it simply repeat the same old work under a new title?

Does the company feel stable enough for consistent salaries, or do you find yourself waiting for delays and uncertainties?

Sometimes a job pays more because employers struggle to retain staff due to reasons you wouldn’t want to encounter.

There you have it; before the jump, be sure you have a clue about what you are jumping into.

As the project nears its end, the two-year Investing in Forests and Protected Areas for Climate-Smart Development (IFPA-CD) MAS Project is concluding its operations under the Government of Uganda’s Ministry of Water and Environment. Funded by the World Bank, this initiative focuses on implementing intensive, mixed-use agroforestry systems on household plots.

By integrating trees, crops, and livestock into local farming setups, the project aims to counter environmental degradation, boost land productivity, and improve food security and livelihoods across nineteen refugee-hosting districts in Northern and Western Uganda.

The massive project relied on a strong network of partners for its field execution. Catholic Relief Services (CRS) served as the primary consultant for the ministry, partnering with NIRAS International Consulting Uganda and the Environmental Conservation Trust of Uganda (ECOTRUST). As a sub-consultant, ECOTRUST took the lead on managing community implementation within five specific refugee settlement districts: Kamwenge, Lamwo, Kagadi, Kakumiro, and Kitagwenda.

Through inclusive community mobilisation, the IFPA-CD MAS Project set ambitious targets to reach 87,782 households and restore 17,550 hectares of degraded land. As the two-year intervention wrapped up, its real-world impact was celebrated locally. In Kagadi District, the project recognised and rewarded more than 20 outstanding model farmers across four sub-counties, honouring their exceptional commitment to tree planting and sustainable farming practices that will safeguard the region’s climate future.

Through the project, each farmer received over 5,000 tree seedlings of different species, which they planted and nurtured on their farms, demonstrating strong environmental stewardship. The project focused on planting indigenous tree seedlings such as Albizia, Prunus africana, Grevillea, Terminalia, Maesopsis, and Mahogany.

“These particular seedlings were supplied to the farmers because they align with agroforestry practices and have a higher survival rate in the region based on our review process. The species were also selected and distributed according to individual farmer choices,” said Christopher Byamukama, the project officer for the IFPA-CD MAS Project in Kagadi District.

In recognition of their efforts, recently, each of the model farmers was awarded two goats to strengthen household incomes and improve livelihoods at the Kagadi District headquarters where the handover was carried out.

The distribution marked an important close-out activity of the IFPA-CD MAS Project in Kagadi District, which has been among the best-performing districts under the World Bank-funded initiative.

Kagadi District LCV Chairperson Tumusiime Elly commended the farmers for their dedication, noting that their efforts have made them role models within their communities.

“The agroforestry initiative will improve soil fertility, restore rainfall patterns, and support sustainable livelihoods, while the distribution of goats is expected to boost household incomes through breeding and livestock production. I encourage farmers to view these animals as capital for the future, rather than a quick fix for immediate challenges,” Tumusiime said.

Across all implementation areas, the project aimed to promote agroforestry adoption among 87,782 households. In total, 25,314 farmers were reached against a target of 25,807, demonstrating strong performance across districts. Kagadi District emerged as the top performer, reaching its target of 7,180 households.

This reflects strong community participation and commitment to integrating trees into farming systems to improve soil fertility, food security, improve livelihoods, and promote climate resilience.

Under the land restoration component, the project aimed to restore degraded landscapes and strengthen ecosystem services. Kagadi District once again exceeded expectations, meeting and surpassing its target by planting trees across 1,420 hectares of land.

These efforts have contributed to improved watershed protection, increased tree cover, and enhanced environmental sustainability.

Community engagement was strengthened through the Farmers’ Voice Radio approach, which uses radio as an innovative way of providing vital information to farmers while promoting two-way dialogue between farmers and experts. The approach was implemented through Kibale Kagadi Community Radio, often known as KKCR 91.7 FM, enabling farmers to interact with experts on radio, share challenges, and receive agricultural information and practical guidance in local languages.

Tom Kizza, a model farmer from Isunga sub-county, shared his experience: “Before the project came, I had a coffee garden but lacked knowledge about the importance of shade trees. Through the project’s training, I learned how integrating trees into my farm could improve coffee production and protect the environment. Through the project, I received over 700 tree seedlings, including mahogany, grevillea, coffee, and cocoa, and I am proud that all of them are growing well. I have also gained a lot of knowledge from the Farmers’ Voice radio program, and I am confident that I will take proper care of these animals to boost my returns even more.”

Abigaba Patrick, the District Forest Officer and focal person for the project in Kagadi District, also appreciated the initiative, noting that the project’s training and the distribution of tree seedlings and goats will help communities improve their incomes while protecting forests.

“In Kagadi District, over 60% of the forest reserves have been degraded. Working through this project is enabling the district to restore these degraded areas while improving the livelihoods of rural farmers by providing alternative sources of income. As a district, we have also noticed a growing understanding among community members regarding the importance of nature protection,” he said.

‎On Thursday, 11 June 2026, students, local leaders, conservation experts and development partners gathered at Arinyapi Seed Secondary School in Adjumani District in Northern Uganda to commemorate World Environment Day with a large-scale tree-planting exercise.

‎During the activity, a total of 5,000 high-quality clonal eucalyptus trees were planted across 5 acres of the school woodlot. To ensure optimal growth, proper spacing and long-term sustainability, the trees were planted at a standard spacing of 2 by 2 meters.

‎The activity was implemented under the Investing in Forests and Protected Areas for Climate-Smart Development (IFPA-CD) Project, which is ending this month, June 2026. This project is an initiative of the Government of Uganda through the Ministry of Water and Environment, funded by the World Bank, and implemented by a consortium comprising NIRAS International Consulting, The Environmental Conservation Trust of Uganda (ECOTRUST), Havilah Company Limited and Green Life International.

‎In Adjumani District, this initiative has achieved outstanding success. According to the project’s performance records, Adjumani set a target to establish 368 hectares of institutional woodlots. Today, the district has exceeded this target, reaching 601 hectares.

Furthermore, from a target of enrolling 1,000 local farmers into the programme, ECOTRUST’s community mobilisation has surpassed expectations, registering 1,085 farmers. This brings Adjumani’s overall project progress to 108.5% against original targets.

‎As the lead partner in community engagement and model farmer enrolment, ECOTRUST coordinated the tree-planting exercise, managed the layout setup, mobilised the community, and worked with students and district local leaders in Adjumani to ensure the successful establishment of the school woodlot.

‎The choice of Arinyapi Seed Secondary School was deliberate. According to district leaders, the area is among the most affected by climate change in Adjumani District. The area experiences extreme heat during dry seasons and severe flooding during rainy seasons, making environmental restoration a priority.

‎Speaking during the event, Adjumani District Natural Resources Officer Charles Gayoyo said the tree-planting exercise aimed at protecting important water sources and preparing communities for the growing effects of climate change.

“Arinyapi is one of the areas most affected by climate change in Adjumani. During the dry season, it becomes extremely hot, and when it rains, the area experiences flooding. Our goal is to protect the Tete River catchment and River Nile. If we plant more trees, we will protect our water resources and strengthen our environment for future generations,” he said.

‎The event also highlighted the progress of Arinyapi Seed Secondary School, which has grown significantly since it was established. School administrators welcomed the tree planting initiative, saying it will improve the school environment while providing long-term benefits to learners.

‎Deputy Head Teacher Dricih Festo Lahn was grateful for this offer through the district level, when he stated, “We are grateful that our school has been selected for this important tree planting exercise because it will help improve our environment and support future generations of learners,”

‎To improve the survival rate of the trees, ECOTRUST introduced aqua soil technology, which helps retain water around the roots during dry periods. “We are using aqua soil technology to help the trees survive during drought,” said Denis Emmanuel Oweka, ECOTRUST Regional Coordinator for the West Nile Northeast Region covering Adjumani, Moyo, Lamwo, Amuru and Obongi districts.

“ECOTRUST is leading community engagement, training and farmer enrolment to ensure communities understand the long-term value of environmental conservation. Today, we brought 5,000 seedlings provided by NIRAS to this school, and the students are actively participating. These learners will grow together with these trees and become future custodians of the environment,” Oweka said.

‎Local leaders encouraged students and community members to protect the trees and recognise their economic value. They noted that tree planting can improve livelihoods while contributing to climate action.

‎Adjumani District Vice Chairperson LC5, Geoffrey Obulejo, urged the school community to take ownership of the woodlot and protect it from destruction.

“The trees we are planting today will beautify the school and protect the buildings from strong winds. Trees can also become a source of income. Personally, tree planting changed my life and helped me generate income over the years. That is why I encourage the students and the school administration to protect these trees and ensure they grow,” he said.

‎NIRAS International Consulting, which serves as the lead contract holder with the Ministry of Water and Environment, appreciated ECOTRUST for the successful mobilisation and partnership.

Speaking on behalf of NIRAS, Deziderius Irumba, Community Engagement Expert, noted that the success of the project is being driven by strong community participation and ECOTRUST’s effective mobilisation efforts.

“NIRAS manages the project on behalf of the Ministry of Water and Environment, but conservation requires teamwork. We are pleased to see strong community participation and registration levels exceeding our targets. Also, the trees belong to the community and the schools. They will contribute to livelihoods, environmental protection and long-term resilience,” he said.

‎Through the support of the Government of Uganda, the Ministry of Water and Environment, the World Bank, and implementing partners led by NIRAS, the initiative is helping communities fight against climate change while improving people’s livelihoods.

One of my favourite ways to connect with people is through their language, especially when learning how native speakers describe the world around them. A colleague once shared that the fastest way to learn a language is to start with the obscene words. Not a good idea!

I have found that nothing beats everyday conversation for learning a new language; not even Duolingo. Listen closely when people switch into their mother tongue, then ask what certain words mean.

On this learning journey, I have found words that made me pause and think, “Of all the sounds, how did we settle on this one?” Not because they’re bad words, but because of the linguistic shock they create. This fascination has actually made learning easier. It helps me appreciate each language’s unique personality, reminding me that what sounds normal to one community can sound wonderfully unexpected to another.

Here are a few Ugandan local language words that live rent-free in my head.

Okuyunja Etooke in Luganda
Okuyunja etooke is Luganda for harvesting bananas (Matooke), a word I first picked up from Kibijigiri’s Omulilwano.

What struck me wasn’t just the word itself, but what it reveals about Luganda. Where another language might lump the action under words like okusala, okuteme, or kukungula, Luganda preserves the distinction. It recognises that harvesting matooke isn’t just cutting down; it’s a specific act with its own identity.

Omuyiwa in Lusoga (Pronounced Muyigha)
During my time in Busoga, I was always intrigued whenever people used the word Muyiwa, a Lusoga word for witch doctor.

For a word tied to mysticism, fear and the supernatural, Omuyiwa sounds out of place. Without context, I would have assumed it belonged to a cheerful uncle in some village rather than someone believed to commune with unseen forces.

Obwitta in Lusiki
Obwitta or obwita is a Lusiki word (and also used in Lusoga) for cassava flour meal. And no, it is not millet bread.

The name has always entertained me because of its unfortunate resemblance to okwita, the Lusoga word for “to k*ll” or “to execute.” You’d expect a staple meal to sound nourishing and inviting. Obwitta sounds like something that should come with a warning label.

Lusiki is spoken in parts of Namutumba District. I have good friends from there, so I can assure you the meal is far less dangerous than its name suggests.

One of the things I enjoy about local languages is discovering how the same dish acquires entirely different identities. What Lusiki and Lusoga speakers call Obwitta is Atapa in Karamojong and Obusuma among the Luhya and Samia. Of the three, only Obwitta manages to sound mildly threatening.

Nyaanya in Lusamia
I learnt this word in 2014. In Lusamia, nyaanya means to chew; chewing food.

What throws me off is the sound. Nyaanya sits too close to ‘granny’ in my head, especially with Swahili’s nyanya meaning grandmother. The connection is harmless, but it refuses to leave my mind.

Gweno in Japadhola
Gweno is the Japadhola-language word for chicken.

Gweno sounds less like a chicken scratching in a compound and more like a creature that commands respect. The first time I heard it, I was convinced they meant goat.

Alakara in Karamojong
One of the few Karamojong words I have learnt so far is Alakara, which means thank you. Every time I hear alakara, my Swahili instincts betray me. My brain reaches for haraka, the Swahili word for fast, as if I am being rushed through the thank-you.

What words have made you stop and think, “Why does that sound like that?” Drop them in the comments. I’m collecting them.

Travelling abroad is a common goal for many Ugandans, whether for leisure, study, business, or simply the adventure to see another part of the world. It often feels like a milestone, a sign that life is moving forward.

But anyone who has tried it knows the process is rarely simple. Visa forms, the queues outside embassies, interviews, bank statements, anxious waiting periods, and, of course, the constant fear of rejection all form part of the experience.

We treat this as normal, yet for citizens of some countries, the international travel process is completely different and astonishingly simple. A person from countries like Singapore or Japan can wake up one morning, book a flight to dozens of countries, pack a suitcase, and board a plane with minimal visa paperwork, often without embassy visits, a stack of supporting documents, or nervous explanations about “intent to return home.” Just a passport and a ticket.

Why? That difference comes down to something known as passport power. And as strange as it may sound, that tiny booklet says a lot about how the world sees your home country.

What Does “Passport Power” Mean?
When we speak of a “powerful passport,” we are referring to how many countries a holder can enter easily without requiring a traditional visa in advance. A strong passport usually offers Visa-free travel, visa-on-arrival, or simple electronic travel authorisations.

A weaker passport, meanwhile, often requires travellers to apply for visas in advance, sometimes weeks or months before travel. This is a reality many Ugandans face when applying for entry to Western countries.

As for how these “powers” are measured, organisations such as Henley Passport Index rank passports by the number of destinations their citizens can access without a pre-approved visa every year. In recent years, passports from countries such as Singapore, Japan, and several European nations have consistently ranked among the world’s strongest, with easy travel access to over 180 countries.

By comparison, many African passports, including our dear Uganda, sit much lower on the scale, limiting global travel.

But passport power is not merely about tourism/travel. It also reflects the level of trust other nations place in your home country. As mentioned earlier, a passport says a lot about your home, basically your country’s reputation score.

The uncomfortable truth about international travel is that immigration systems are built heavily around perception. When another country evaluates your passport, it is indirectly assessing: your country’s economic stability, political climate, security systems, diplomatic relationships, levels of illegal immigration and visa overstay, and the likelihood that its citizens will respect immigration rules.

This is why travellers from wealthier, stable countries are often considered low risk, while those from developing nations face stricter scrutiny. It may feel unfair, and in many cases, it is, but it remains the structure of modern travel systems.

A hardworking Ugandan with a steady income and genuine intentions can still face more barriers than someone from a stronger passport country. Not because of personal character, but because nationality becomes the main filter.

Two people with similar age, education, and finances can have completely different travel experiences depending only on their passports. A Singaporean will book a ticket and travel with ease, while a Ugandan will have to spend weeks gathering documents, paying non-refundable visa fees, and still face no guarantee of approval.

This is where passport power quietly shapes people’s lives in ways many do not initially notice. It affects who travels easily, who studies abroad, who attends international conferences, who builds global business networks, and who sees the world as accessible versus distant.

A strong passport expands access before any journey begins… they just have to reach for it. A weak one often turns travel into a long negotiation.

Why Are Some Passports Super Strong?
Take Singapore; its passport ranks among the strongest because the country has built a stable economy, strong governance, effective immigration systems, low corruption levels, and wide diplomatic relationships, which have, over time, created trust. Other countries believe Singaporean travellers will follow rules and return home when required, which leads to visa-free agreements.

In other words, powerful passports are rarely about the document itself. They reflect how the world views the country behind it. Stable economies, strong institutions, and positive international relations tend to translate into greater travel freedom for citizens.

As for Uganda, we are still developing in these areas, and for many people here, travel abroad is not just about leisure. More often, it is for survival, education, or better opportunities. Because of this reality, immigration authorities in stable countries often approach applications from developing nations cautiously, concerned about visa overstays or illegal migration.

As a result, ordinary Ugandans often carry the weight of assumptions based on national statistics rather than individual profiles. Many rejected applicants are genuine travellers, students, or professionals, yet the system still evaluates them through collective risk patterns.

And anyone who has stood outside an embassy at dawn already knows this reality.

People raised in countries with strong passports often grow up assuming the world is open to them. International movement feels normal, accessible and even expected, while for those in weaker-passport countries, foreign travel can feel more like seeking permission.

And while that distinction seems subtle, it shapes ambition itself.

A child growing up in London or Singapore may naturally consider studying in Paris, working in Canada, or vacationing in Dubai. For most Ugandans, those same options feel distant, not because of ability, but because of access barriers.

Can Passport Strength Improve?
Passport strength improves over time when countries strengthen their economic stability, governance, diplomatic relationships, security systems, tourism appeal, international trust, and regional cooperation.

Regional agreements have already made travel within parts of Africa easier, including movement within East Africa, where Ugandans can travel with fewer restrictions.

And while our passport may not currently rank among the world’s strongest, the position is not fixed forever. Countries develop, and diplomatic ties evolve.

Singapore itself was not always a global powerhouse.

As of May 2026, the Ugandan passport ranks 70th globally and offers visa-free or visa-on-arrival access to around 67 countries.

Land and housing remain key indicators of wealth for many Ugandans. Many are working to escape the rent trap, secure a home for retirement, generate rental income, and leave something tangible behind. But the updated Uganda Building Control Act is quietly changing that path, especially for ordinary landlords and small-scale builders.

For years, construction in Uganda has operated in a kind of middle ground. Regulations existed, but enforcement was inconsistent; approvals were slow, and many projects moved ahead long before paperwork caught up. Rental units extended room by room, roadside shops appeared beside homes, and upper floors were added years later as finances improved. Basically, if you wanted to build something, you went ahead and built it.

That style of building, incremental, resourceful, and often informal, has shaped much of urban Uganda.

But with the amended framework, authorities can now inspect buildings at various stages of construction, halt non-compliant projects, impose fines, and, in some cases, order demolition of structures deemed illegal or unsafe. While the reforms aim to improve safety and restore order in a sector long associated with shortcuts and collapsing buildings, estimates already suggest a significant portion of buildings in Uganda do not fully meet planning and construction regulations.

What Has Actually Changed?
The updated enforcement approach places far greater emphasis on compliance before, during, and after construction. For landlords and builders, that means authorities can now pay closer attention to whether plans were approved, construction matches submitted drawings, inspections were carried out, professional oversight was used where required, and any extensions or modifications received proper approval.

A landlord in Wakiso building four rental rooms behind an existing house may technically require revised approvals and structural checks. A shop owner converting a residential building into commercial use could also attract regulatory attention. Even small changes like extending outward or adding another floor years later may fall into non-compliance territory if approvals were never updated.

And therein lies the real issue: Much of Uganda’s urban growth has historically happened through adaptation rather than formal planning. Construction has often followed need and financial limits rather than fixed plans.

The Real Cost of “Doing It Properly”
Now, while the amendments are seen as positive, there is a question of whether the average builder can realistically afford full compliance. Because building legally is not just about willingness; it also comes with costs. Full compliance may require architectural drawings, structural engineering input, approval fees, inspection clearances, licensed professionals, and repeated administrative processes before completion.

Individually, some of these costs may seem manageable, a small fee here and there, and an inspection for a modification…but together they add up. This is especially true for middle and lower-income builders who construct through savings, SACCO loans, or tenant income. This is common; we have all witnessed construction projects stalling for years, or buildings constructed halfway, used and then finished later when more money is saved up.

This is especially true for small landlords. Someone building a few rental units in stages rarely approaches the project the same way a large real estate developer does.

In many cases, construction starts before approvals are finalised simply because rising labour and material costs push many to build first, then try to “regularise” later.

And as you can guess by now, legally, that is non-compliance. Practically, it has become one of Uganda’s most common construction patterns.

Why Many Builders Operate Outside the System
Uganda’s construction economy has long been shaped by informality, with entire neighbourhoods, especially in rapidly urbanising areas, growing outside strict master-planned systems. Many developed gradually through household effort and survival economics, where one room becomes two, a family home becomes a rental, and a small kiosk becomes a row of shops. This incremental construction approach persists because many Ugandans build without full financing upfront, often stretching construction over years.

The challenge is that modern regulatory systems are built around formal, fully planned development, assuming clear land ownership, up front financing, professional contractors, fixed designs, and uninterrupted construction timelines.

But that assumption is not always how ordinary people actually build. And when the cost of compliance rises too high, many builders do not stop constructing; they simply move further outside the formal system.

Which Buildings Are Most Exposed?
While large commercial developments usually attract early regulatory attention, smaller informal projects tend to go unnoticed until complaints, inspections, or disputes arise. Structures most likely to face complications may include: unapproved rental extensions, roadside commercial shops, modified residential buildings, extra floors added after original approval, structures built too close to roads or drainage channels, and properties constructed on disputed or improperly documented land.

In Kampala and the surrounding districts, many buildings have evolved without updated approvals. What started as a single-storey structure now includes multiple tenant units, commercial spaces, and added floors not formally reflected in the original plans. And not to mention small shops and kiosks erected without formal planning.

The Demolition Fear in Uganda
One reason the amended framework is creating anxiety is the expanded demolition powers it gives authorities. We have all witnessed the recent demolition of roadside kiosks during the city declaration by the local councils.

What Precisely Qualifies a Structure as Unsafe in Uganda?
At what point does a deviation from approved plans justify demolition instead of correction? Will enforcement apply evenly across wealthy and lower-income developments?

These concerns matter because land and construction in Uganda already sit within overlapping authorities, disputes, and an uneven enforcement history. Without clear thresholds and transparent procedures, many ordinary builders fear selective or unpredictable enforcement.

And for families who have poured years of savings into a structure, demolition is not just administrative punishment; it is literally cutting off an arm.

Thus, the deeper tension is that Uganda’s legal framework is increasingly moving toward formal, regulated urban development, while much of the population still builds informally and in stages.

Either way, the question right now is whether the regulatory system is fully prepared for the economic realities of how Ugandans actually build.

For those who frequent Kampala, that very first visit never leaves you. Especially when you go with someone, and somehow, they know where everything one needs is. Clothes? They got you. Shoes or electronics? They know just the place.

This is because Kampala isn’t just a mess of anything anywhere. Yes, you might have your carpenter or mechanic down the road, but we also have places renowned for specific trades, furniture, spare parts, printing, and even farming supplies. Kampala city runs on these unwritten maps, even though at first glance it feels chaotic.

When you spend enough time here, you realise Kampala’s chaos has structure. People don’t just “look around” for where to buy goods and services; they go to specific zones, such as Nasser Road, which is the main hub for printing in Kampala. Similarly, spare parts, farm chemicals, and other items each have their own business clusters across the city.

Buying from areas known for a specific trade gives you an advantage in options and prices. After all, isn’t that why most people come to Kampala to shop? So today, we thought we would share some of those places where you can find dedicated services and goods in Kampala.

Where to Buy Food & Everyday Essentials in Kampala
#1. Nakasero Market
If you want fresh produce in a more organised setting, Nakasero is your place. It’s one of the oldest markets in Kampala. At Nakasero Market, you’ll find fruits, vegetables, spices, and foodstuffs, often with a slightly more “premium” feel compared to other markets.

#2. Kalerwe Market for Bulk & Budget-Friendly Shopping
On the other end, Kalerwe is where prices drop, and volume rises; it’s more of a wholesale hub. Traders, restaurant owners, and everyday shoppers go to this ever-busy market for cheaper agricultural produce in bulk.

#3. Owino (St. Balikuddembe) for Everything, Literally
If Kampala had a “you’ll find it here somehow” location, this is it. Clothes, food, random household items, Owino is massive. It was created to reduce congestion at Nakasero Market, but today it has become something of its own renown.

Where to Find Farming & Agricultural Supplies in Kampala
#4. Container Village, The Farmer’s Plug
Just after Ben Kiwanuka Street, Container Village is where you go when anything farming-related comes up. From veterinary drugs and poultry feeds to farm seeds and chemicals, Container Village in downtown Kampala is the hub.

If you’re dealing with livestock or agriculture, you’ll likely end up here at some point. Growing up, I remember Mom frequenting Container Village for those doodoo and sukumawiki seedlings she liked planting in her tiny city garden.

Where Things Are Built, Fixed, or Improvised
#5. Katwe, The Engineering Brain of Kampala
Katwe is where raw skills live. Motor engines, grinding machines, fabricated tools, tractor parts, electronics… you name it. This is where things are built from scratch, repaired, or even reinvented. It’s not just a market; it’s like a collection of welders, mechanics, and artisans. If something can’t be found, chances are it can be made here.

Katwe is also increasingly getting known for vending imported refurbished electronics such as ovens, washing machines, treadmills, blenders… name them.

#6. Kisekka Market, Spare Parts Hub
When it comes to vehicle spare parts and repairs, Kisekka is the go-to. Mechanics, drivers, and parts dealers all converge here.

Where Businesses Source Their Goods in Kampala
#7. Kikuubo, The Wholesale Place
Kikuubo is less about shopping and more about sourcing. This is where retailers go for any merchandise… fabrics, general merchandise, school uniforms, bulk goods, you buy here if you’re planning to resell or stock up. It’s one of the busiest and most important commercial arteries in Kampala.

Where to Get Services Done
#8. Nasser Road, Printing & All Graphics Capital
Need exams, posters, banners, merchandise, or any branding designed and printed? Nasser Road is your answer.

Nasser Road, long established as the go-to area for printing businesses, is now the default location for anything print-related, yes, even forging “qualification papers” to help you land that job.

#9. Wilson Road, Cameras & Photography
Cameras, photo services, and accessories, Wilson Road is known for them. If you’re into photography or need equipment, this is one of the first places people will point you to.

Where to Shop Fashion & Personal Items
#10. Kiyembe Lane
If you are into fashion design, Kiyembe Lane has all the fabrics, buttons, threads, and tailoring materials you need. Mu Kiyembe is where you find custom fits; work or school uniforms, suits, gomesi, bitengi, work overalls and reflector jackets. Kiyembe is also the place for fabric printing, like adding names to student uniforms.

#11. French Plaza, Cultural & Muslim Wear
If you’re looking for bitengi, kanzus, abayas, or modest fashion, French Plaza is a solid option. It specialises in traditional and Muslim clothing.

Cooper Complex, on the other hand, is the go-to hub for African traditional fabrics.

#12. Around New Taxi Park, Bags & Shoes Hub
Down the Old Taxi Park, along Ben Kiwanuka Road, the stretch is known (informally) for ladies’ bags and shoes. It’s one of those places where selection is the main attraction, rows of options, different styles, and good chances of finding exactly what you’re looking for.

#13. Gazaland, Beauty & Hair Products
For hair, beauty products, jewellery, including watches, and salon-related items, Gazaland is a well-known stop. The street is bustling with both individuals and professionals in the beauty space.

Where to Find Electronics & Tech Gadgets
#14. Kampala Road, General Tech & Gadgets
For computers, electronics, repairs and related accessories, Kampala Road is one of the most accessible areas. It’s not as tightly specialised as some other zones, but it’s central and reliable.

These places are barely listed anywhere; you discover them through experience, people and moments, like that first time someone takes you around, and somehow, they know exactly where everything is. Kampala runs on shared knowledge.

What’s shared here is just the tip of the iceberg; Kampala has many more pockets. If you know a place that deserves a spot on this list, share it in the comments.

On any given Sunday morning, two kinds of people head to church. On one hand, thousands stream into a massive auditorium or a huge field with glowing screens, intentional lighting, live-feed cameras, and an atmosphere buzzing with energy. On the other hand, wooden benches creak as familiar faces greet one another by name. The choir warms up in harmonies everyone already knows with the expectation of a simple, predictable, and deeply comforting service.

Both gatherings are called church, yet if you are to ask members of either church, they will describe different experiences. This begs the question: Have you ever wondered why large churches seem to draw youth, while smaller churches often hold the loyalty of older generations? Is it just vibe and hype versus intimacy and familiarity, or is something deeper at play?

First, what exactly is a church? Britannica defines a church as a body or organisation of Christian believers. A church is also defined as the structure where believers gather to worship and pray. The word ‘Church’ comes from the Greek word ‘ekklesia,’ meaning a gathering of people or community.

That said, this conversation is less about church size and more about what people seek when they step through those doors.

What’s the Deal with Size Anyway?
A mega church typically draws a congregation of over 2,000 people every Sunday. In Uganda, Phaneroo Ministries Kampala, Miracle Centre Cathedral, Worship Harvest, and Watoto Church are defined as mega born-again churches. These churches are often highly organised, media-savvy, and are known for having multiple branches. For these churches, it is not unusual to have structured growth strategies and strong branding, and even a visible public presence.

Although many widely attended churches seem to fall under this category at first glance, it’s worth noting that not every large congregation fits into the mega church model.

For example, traditional parish structures, especially within long-standing Anglican or Catholic systems, may draw large numbers but operate differently; often community-anchored and liturgical rather than strategy-driven. In many cases, a large congregation may indicate that “St. Andrews Church” is located in a community dominated by Anglicans or Catholics.

At the other end are local churches; smaller congregations under 700, often deeply rooted in specific communities, the omuntu wawansi. Many meet in modest buildings, sometimes makeshift structures (Kiwempe & Mabaati), and are known for conducting services in local languages. Their strength is not spectacle but familiarity.

In megachurches, growth is visible and measurable. Increasing numbers are interpreted as impact, reach, and effectiveness—expanding the Kingdom of God and spreading the Gospel of Christ. Proof that strategies are working, goals are being achieved, and the men of God are doing their jobs right. This, however, invites criticism. Large churches are usually seen as superficial, brand-focused, and impersonal. Critics question whether true community can exist among thousands, and wonder whether visibility in megachurches sometimes replaces depth.

Megachurches in Uganda, such as Phaneroo Ministries, Elvis Mbonye’s Zoe Fellow Ministries, and Miracle Centre Cathedral, are often labelled as cults, money traps, and churches for the well-to-do Christians. Statements such as, those are just superficial Christians…, people at the big church just want to blend in and don’t want to serve…, they can’t possibly have true community in a church that big…, and pastors of large churches are self-centred and just want to build a kingdom and name for themselves.

On the other hand, small churches like Deliverance Church Uganda and Church of Uganda are often described as intimate. These specific churches may have numerous branches across the country; however, not as much energy is put into advertising and increasing numbers. Additionally, each branch has its own intimate number of members who know each other front and back. They know the choir’s set list by heart, one’s absence is noticed, and your name is remembered even without a blood tie to the senior Pastor. These local churches are defined by the familiarity of the congregants with each other, many of whom have been to each other’s houses to pray over a family matter or speak about church issues over tea and bread.

Why Youth Gravitate Toward Megachurches
Church choice is rarely accidental. It is shaped by routine, familiarity, and the current stage of life. Younger Christians often prefer megachurches simply because it is all they have ever known, their families have attended the same church for years, and it becomes theirs too.

To younger Christians, church is not only about doctrine but also identity. Young people who are still exploring themselves often gravitate towards spaces that feel expressive and alive: energetic music, a charismatic senior pastor, polished production and sermons that address contemporary issues in modern language, a typical mega church.

There is also the undeniable social dimension. Large churches offer visibility, which can translate into networking, paid roles within church structures, and, at times, social status. Attending a megachurch can feel like being part of something influential and culturally relevant.

Why Older Generations Remain Loyal to Local Churches
For many older congregants, church is not only an experience but a community, one that turns strangers and familiar faces into family. It is where children are taught and raised within shared social and faith values, including dress codes, weekly Bible studies, and long-standing church routines, that are often perceived to be less common in megachurch settings. In these local churches, traditions are preserved, and faith is practised within a stable social structure built over years, sometimes decades.

In smaller congregations, participation feels personal. Attendance is noticed, announcements are communal, and being known often translates into being cared for. This visibility is not interpreted as pressure but as belonging.

Some worshippers remain tied to local churches for family and sense of heritage, the ‘we are Anglicans/Catholics,’ since leaving “the family church” can feel like severing roots.

Others gravitate towards local churches because they see a focus on spiritual depth rather than growing the size of the congregation. For many older congregants, worship before live-stream cameras for live television and YouTube, surrounded by faces that change every week and may never be seen again, feels distant and impersonal.

Many argue that faith in smaller local churches is not something to be consumed but lived, and perceive an absence of this lived faith in bigger churches.

Is the Church Becoming a Consumer Choice?
One of the most interesting patterns emerging from public opinion is that people do not always choose churches based purely on doctrine. Many believers choose their places of worship based on how they make them feel, how they fit into their lifestyle, and whether they reflect the version of themselves they are becoming or trying to preserve.

In Uganda, megachurches are seen as symbols of growth, ambition, and visibility, whereas local churches convey stability, rootedness, and accountability.

While this is not necessarily a matter of right and wrong, it may simply reflect generational tendencies: younger worshippers often seek exploration, while older worshippers often seek consistency. Even so, both mega and local churches have noticeable congregations of young and older members.

Megachurch vs Local Church?
Despite public opinion in Uganda leaning towards local churches, worshippers differ in what they seek: some value intimacy and deep connections, while others are drawn to energy, scale, and being part of something expansive.

Perhaps the question shouldn’t be which model of church is better, but what you, as a believer, truly need in your current season of life to grow, feel at home, and be spiritually fulfilled.

Be part of this conversation and share your thoughts below.

If there’s one profession in Uganda that deserves an award for confidence, it’s got to be boda boda riders and taxi conductors. For about two decades, Uganda’s public transport has largely revolved around boda boda and Taxis (Minibuses with blue checkered stripes).

Even when the government introduced new initiatives, such as the many public bus trials over the years, boda bodas and taxis persist and still take the crown. In line with that, almost every Ugandan has used them, and we all agree that no one stretches the truth on the road like boda boda riders, taxi drivers and conductors. It’s an unspoken understanding we have all accepted.

And today, as I still await my boda guy who swore he was very close (been waiting for like 10 minutes now), let us talk about the usual lies and ‘assurances’ boda boda and taxi drivers use to woo their customers.

#1. I’m Just Going Your Side/I Know Where That Is
This one is undefeated. For some reason, boda guys are always heading in the same direction you are taking and always swear they understand exactly where you mean to go.

You tell him your destination. He doesn’t even pause. ‘Boss, I’m just going that side, I know that area very well.’

Even when you try to explain further, he assures you he grew up there. Minutes into the ride, you realise ‘your side’ includes three new trading centres and a sudden, ‘Boss, which turn do we take?’

And if you think getting lost (usually when you presume the boda is just taking a shortcut) is the worst part, wait until halfway through when the boda boda guy complains the distance is longer than he expected.

#2. Taxi Is Full, Just One Seat Left
For taxi users, this is a well-known tactic conductors use to woo potential passengers. They will see you from afar and, regardless of look or stature, assume you are a traveller. You suddenly become the last passenger they need to start the journey.

You look inside and see plenty of space, yet the conductor still insists, ‘Just one seat!’

#3. We Are Leaving Now Now
The one-seat lie kicks in when the conductor keeps assuring you the taxi is leaving immediately. You get in; it looks full, yet he still shouts, ‘Last seat! We are moving!’

You sit, but the engine barely starts.

For some reason, new “would-be passengers” keep appearing: five more people are recruited from thin air. A sack of produce appears. Someone’s aunt squeezes in. Then finally, 15 minutes later, you ‘leave now now.’

#4. I’m Very Close
If there were a national competition for optimism, boda riders would still win. They are always giving false hopes about how very close they are to picking you up. ‘In a few minutes I’ll be there,’ they keep reassuring, and I advise, better grab a seat while you wait.

In Ugandan transport language, ‘very close’ can mean: still at the boda stage, fuelling, picking another passenger, or finishing lunch.

Ten minutes later, he is ‘reaching.’ Five minutes after that, he is ‘almost.’

And this isn’t about the boda riders. Almost every Ugandan has pulled off the ‘I am soon arriving,’ ‘I am close,’ and other such assurances, often while they’re just setting off.

#5. There’s Heavy Jam Ahead
If you’ve ever tried bargaining with a boda boda rider, ‘but there’s jam that side’ never fails. After all, boda bodas are popular in Uganda because they can navigate traffic, which conveniently bumps up the fare. Often, the jam isn’t real, and that line is just a way to stop you from bargaining or to get you to pay more.

#6. Fuel Is Expensive, Boss
This one has become permanent ever since fuel prices started behaving like forex charts.

You’ll hear it when it rains, at 9 PM, at 6 AM, on Monday, on Friday, or simply if you look financially stable.

Yes, fuel prices affect fares. But sometimes the phrase isn’t about economics, it’s about leverage. They’ll talk your ear off about fuel costs and why they need to raise the fare, which is understandable, but most of the time, it’s just a pricing tactic.

#7. The App Edition: The GPS Is Disturbing
When it comes to ride-hailing apps like Safe Boda, the lies have even evolved. ‘The app is disturbing, the GPS showed wrong things’
Sometimes it’s true. Sometimes the GPS mysteriously adds a few metres to boost the fare. Other times, they insist the app’s position is wrong. Either way, even with the directions and fares clearly displayed, the bargaining culture hasn’t gone away.

Technology may have improved transparency, but it hasn’t curbed creativity. There are always loopholes and a story they can use.

And while we may dislike some of these lies, the truth is that Uganda’s informal transport sector is survival-based, with no fixed salaries, no guaranteed daily income, high competition, rising fuel prices, stage politics, police fines, and bike loan repayments, so at the end of the day, everyone is just trying to hustle a living.

What looks like manipulation is often economic pressure dressed up as negotiation tactics. That doesn’t excuse dishonesty, but it explains it.

And let’s not pretend passengers are saints either, not with, ‘I don’t have change.’ ‘I always pay this amount.’ ‘My usual guy charges less.’

In the end… these lies are part of Uganda’s road culture. Annoying? Yes. Entertaining? Also, yes.

It’s a strange relationship we have with boda bodas and taxis. We complain, joke, swear we’ll never use them again… and yet tomorrow morning, we are back on the roadside, negotiating because, despite the exaggerations, detours, and dramatic fuel speeches, they remain the backbone of how this country travels.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my boda guy just assured me he is “reaching.”

Luganda language on TikTok lately has… how shall we say… has been upgraded with “premium vocabulary.” There is a disturbing rise in vulgar language on TikTok among youth using the Kabaka’s language. Have you met Pressure 247?

Yet aren’t the Baganda traditionally famous for being raised with that polished, butter-smooth manner of speech, the kind where words are carefully selected before they are spoken? Traditionally, for a Muganda, even a cough should sound well-mannered. Raised by a Muganda mother, I know better than not to stand before her while hailing her: you kneel, Joshua, you kneel. Manners will take you places…Whether they have succeeded at taking me to those places is a matter for another day.

So, back to the point, let’s be honest—it’s not like other tribes aren’t on TikTok too. They are. Nor is it that the Baganda are the loudest tribe around here. I bet they are not. It just feels like our Luganda timelines have recently discovered a new “expressive” setting, or TikTok has given this Mutebi-generation a breather to say the words they’ve long wanted to say. Or maybe the legendary discipline of Masaka—that strict, eyebrow-raising, “behave-yourself” energy—is slowly taking a vacation.

And perhaps that’s why the classic, serious, proverb-quoting Muganda man sometimes gets labelled “too much” by our sisters. They call him Omusajja w’eMasaka (Masaka man) and don’t even like him for marriage.

I would say there is absolutely nothing wrong with him if he wants your hand for marriage, Single Lady—I mean he loves you with your stubborn fore-head, which is exactly what matters—but these TikTok streets have been speaking, and you just might want to read on to see what they’ve had to say about your dear loving Kimera of a hubby-to-be.

We are African, and we all love our cultures, don’t we? Yes, we do. We all have our little humble villages whence we emanate and flock to Kampala for a future we think is brighter here than anywhere else, don’t we? Yes, we also do. Yet somehow, we get entwined in the lifestyle of this city and, voila, we shed—or are expected to shed—the culture we were nurtured into by our families and communities back home, right? Not the Masaka man!

He comes to this city with everything you modern girls call traditional, and boy does he stand tall!

So, tonight you will allow me to give you the Masaka man, plus a few other men types by tribe, for choice, so that you might make sound marriage choices because, hey, tribe does matter in Uganda more than these lying Ugandans do admit. Before you take him to your parents, kindly prepare him to face humiliating impressions such as “Linda, you brought us a Gishu. No, we can’t allow it.”

Ever heard of ekinyaanya-nyanya? That’s music made for Masaka, look it up. Now, when the Kinyaanya Jockey is doing his thing up there, Masaka party-lovers are boogieing like they have spirits (the drink or the deities, you choose one) on their heads, crazily waving tree branches, and piercing the ground with their toes till the ground is hurt and raising clouds of dust. Age or status? Nope, that don’t-Akon-matter. The rule is one: ‘Oh, man. Dance yourself silly and dirty till your face is wet and salty.’ Modern girls have a huge bone to pick with that.

A Masaka man values knowledge, and it’s a good thing, plus the act of passing it down to whom it may concern. For instance, for music, he will pause Dole Y’omwaana to explain the meaning of each line, reminding you for the gazillionth time that ‘we were harvesting cassava in Gomba in 1999 when I first heard that song on Kabaka’s CBS radio.’ You have to bear with a common line: I am a ‘musajja wa Kabaka!’ all through that history session.

To be particularly fair, that loyalty to royalty has a beautiful side: Masaka men can be fiercely proud, protective and generous towards their homes and people; when he loves you, he will often show it in provision, building, schooling children, and defending you in public—even if he still expects to win every argument in private. The answer to the how-and-why question of that is: he listens when Ssabasajja makes a call for Baganda men to do all the above-mentioned as a way to create stronger families.

But you, fore-headed sister, have stuck yourself in an environment of besties—Jovan, Reagan, Isaac, Bright, cool guys with cool names that don’t give his Kimera name a fighting chance—so if the guy intends to keep you out of the danger that comes with besties, Mr Masaka man might shove a few fists your way (not a good thing though, sir. Keep your violent hands to yourself).

Another thing: you love partying with the girls till dawn, you love the bottle too; why would you risk dating a Masaka man, knowing as you do that he is Augustus Caesar himself? A woman is not meant to get drunk, so say the rules, at least not publicly.

To be fair, many men from other tribes can’t stand this either.

When you get married to him and suppose that in some instances when you feel puny like that—say you have a bad cramp day—that you will be tempted to ask him to ‘please fetch me some water from the tap and help me hang those clothes on the line.’ Sorry, social media is blighting you; you need to delete it—social media oblivion vs. marital oblivion, set your priorities.

If you are the girl who likes skimpy stuff, I mean, girl, did you even visit your auntie? You call him babe instead of Taata Nakanwagi, who raised you?

Guy will sit on the table as you sit on the mat like a proper woman should; he’ll ask you to pass him the remote when he is centimetres near it and you are in the kitchen; he will marry a second woman and have you congratulate him, he will literally ask you to leave the bed for her that night; he will have to be the only one entitled to some parts of that chicken—and KFC doesn’t make sense to him as he wonders “lwaki enkoko ya KFC tebelamu suupu?”

Are you the kind that can’t accommodate a mother-in-law? Are you one who can’t make proper luwombo? Do your knees hurt you can’t kneel? Try elsewhere. Do you even realise he likes waist beads and the pulled ropes much more than lipstick?

In context, the traditional Baganda culture in Masaka emphasises rigid patriarchal roles where men dominate as providers, decision-makers, and household leaders. So, if you are a modern emancipated woman married to him, be prepared to spend much of your married life clashing with him. These norms stem from historical customs in the Buganda Kingdom, just as similar patriarchal norms in Ankole, Acholi, Teso, etc spring from their own precolonial structures.

It’s common for husbands to “discipline” wives physically—a softer word for wife-beating, practice infidelity without consequence (Omusajja asajjalaata), where they more often than not sire children (Omusajja tebamubalira baana), plus polygamy; and women are expected to remain faithful and resolve issues discreetly.

Yet even here you’ll find exceptions: Masaka men who reject violence, who choose faithfulness, who value partnership; just as you will find kind, gentle, and progressive men in every tribe who quietly break their own stereotypes.

Take the Munyankole man, for instance. People will warn you about his pride, his love for respect, cows and status, his tendency to want a soft-spoken, home-keeping woman who knows how to “keep her place.” They will tell you he can be controlling and slow to apologise. But the same man is often praised for being hardworking, land and asset focused, determined to provide, and seriously invested in his children’s education and future. If you can survive the in-law committee and the expectations, you may end up with a very stable and quietly dependable partner.

Then there is our Acholi man, Opolot. The rumours may paint him as hot-tempered, stubborn, and sometimes rough around the edges, with a history of drinking and a loud voice. They will whisper about polygamy and extended family demands that never end. Yet the same Opolot is also known for deep hospitality, community spirit, a big heart, and a sense of humour that calms storms. When he chooses you, he often chooses your wider family too, and you can find yourself wrapped in a strong communal net. Security, who doesn’t want it?

Look at the Musoga. People joke that he takes ages to understand. They will warn you about his love for ojugulu too. That same Musoga man can be congenial: flexible, adaptable and easy-going once he is settled, and he may support your hustle in quiet, practical ways without making noise about it.

The Itesot man: You’ll hear about his firmness, his suspicion, his strong opinions and his extended family that believes your home is a community centre, his unwillingness to easily change his mind. Yet many Itesot men are also admired for their resilience, their work ethic, their commitment to their children and their ability to stand with you through financial and life crises. When they decide to build with you, they can be unshaken partners.

So once again, to avoid over-generalisation about this issue, please note that these attributes do not apply everywhere, and hopefully your Kimera might be out of the bracket. If that’s so, then Ssabasajja Kabaka agundegunde, and may our TikTok siblings bless his soul by staying away from 18+ talk. It’s not even funny.

Leave a comment, Sweetheart, will you?

Street vending, bend-down boutiques, and the usual market days are some of the small experiences any Ugandan can relate to. It does not matter what caste of society one hails from; the batembeyi are some of Uganda’s internal economic pillars, from a consumer’s point of view.

If you are a street vendor in Kampala, your picture is usually rather bleak; haggling with customers on a daily basis, the taxman is always against you, and the ever-growing tension that KCCA is raiding you any moment. All that is usual, and yet again, the government is against you. On 5 February 2026, a “cleansing” and decongestion of Kampala was once again announced; two weeks of sensitisation first and enforcement after.

And just like that, the city returned to a script we all know too well. If there is one thing Kampala does consistently, it’s the usual cat-and-mouse game, where the authorities play cat and vendors forever the mouse. It’s not the first time; KCCA clears “its” streets, and then slowly, inevitably, they fill up again. It’s always the same story…

Walk through downtown Kampala on any normal afternoon and you will soon realise that the human traffic alone can feed a small economy. Office workers rushing for whatever reason, students squeezing coins for cheap fits, alongside mothers comparing tomato prices…Kampala city has it all.

Simply put, where there is movement, there is money, and for many hustlers out there, this is prime business ground.

For many young people in Uganda, street vending is not some rebellious act against order; it’s simply survival math with minimal capital; a basin of mangoes, a stack of second-hand shirts, a spreading of phone chargers, and pretty much anything you can get your hands on. No rent contract, no security deposit, no electricity bill… just your goods and your feet… and the energy to haul your cargo and run like your wallet depends on it. Well, because it does.

Youth unemployment remains a quiet but constant pressure cooker, where every young person eventually realises that the years are catching up on them, but there’s nothing to show for it. Even with education, a supposed “key to success,” modern Uganda does not favour books alone. Graduates face unemployment, connections are currency and the only way to go is to jump into the hustle culture wagon, where, as you might suspect, the street becomes the most accessible marketplace. Not glamorous or stable, but immediate.

And that is the tension.

Government seeks order, clear pavements, unclogged drainage channels, organised transport stages. Pedestrians want space to walk without stepping into the road. Formal shop owners want customers inside arcades instead of buying from someone under an umbrella at half the price.

But the city’s unemployed youth want to eat.

So Kampala performs this ritual every few years. Vendors are told to vacate, enforcement begins, goods are confiscated, and streets look neat for a while. Then rent deadlines hits, school fees knock, and slowly, cautiously, the vendors return.

Relocate… To Where?

The official line is rarely “stop trading forever.” It is “relocate to gazetted markets.” On paper, that sounds reasonable–markets, stalls, and structure exist.

But relocation is not just about space. It is economical.

Street vending survives on proximity to human traffic. That is the entire business model. If you move a fruit seller from a busy junction to a market tucked behind three buildings, you have not relocated their business; you have reduced its visibility, and visibility is income, after all, you can’t buy what you don’t know exists.

Then there is rent. Many markets require daily or monthly payments. Even modest stall fees can feel heavy when your capital is small and your profits fluctuate. A street vendor may operate on margins so thin that paying rent before selling feels like gambling with borrowed money.

And for some, relocation is not simply expensive; it is intimidating. Formal markets come with politics, informal gatekeeping, and internal competition from internal competition. On the street, your only requirement is courage and a good spot.

So when the order says “move,” the unspoken question remains: move where?

Besides, the intent is usually to “decongest the city.” but really, decongestion for whom? It is easy to frame this as government versus vendors. But the truth is messier.

Arcade shop owners argue that they pay high rent and taxes, while street vendors operate outside that burden. Pedestrians complain about blocked pavements. Drivers point to the chaos around junctions. Environmentalists highlight clogged drainage channels that worsen flooding during heavy rains.

These are real grievances, but there is also quiet convenience.

Many of us who complain about congestion still buy from the street because it is cheaper, faster, and closer. The city criticises vendors in the morning and shops from them in the evening.

So who benefits from decongestion?

The formal businesses likely see clearer storefronts. Pedestrians gain walking space. The city projects order. But the vendor, often operating at the edge of survival, pays the immediate price.

Confiscated goods are not just items; they are capital, school fees, rent and even supper.

Perhaps the real story is not about whether vendors should be on the streets, but why the streets remain their most viable option.

If unemployment were lower, would the pavements still be crowded with fruit sellers? If market spaces guaranteed equal foot traffic, would vendors resist relocation? If rent structures matched the realities of micro-trading, would enforcement feel less like oppression and more like transition?

Kampala is growing. It wants to look modern, organised and investment-ready, but modernization without livelihood pathways is simply cosmetic.

A city cannot decongest poverty by pushing it around corners.

And so, time clicks away as vendors weigh their options. Some will attempt to relocate, some will wait it out, and some will disappear for a season and quietly returning when enforcement softens.

For many of them, the street is not defiance, but the only market that said yes.

When your child finds a spiritual home, you want to feel reassured that they are in a place that keeps them away from bad company. You hope the church environment steers them away from drug abuse, immorality, and negative influences that are derailing young people today. As a parent, you believe that regular prayer, serving in church, and moral teaching will help your child stay grounded, as any parent would want. Yet that hope turns into fear when the church leadership is repeatedly surrounded by public controversy, not just any usual church scandal, but allegations of homosexuality!

I am a Ugandan parent, and my only son attends a prominent church in this city that many people admire, where the services are organised, the worship is uplifting, and the messages emphasise morality and discipline. On the surface, everything looks right, yet over the years, allegations about the personal conduct of the church’s senior leader have refused to disappear.

These gay allegations have long circulated in public discussions and media reports, often ending up in courtrooms. Some argue that the sodomy allegations are always fabrications planted by ill-wishers and long-time adversaries of the pastor to damage the ministry and its influence. Others believe the endless allegations point to serious ongoing concerns that are never fully addressed, partly due to connections with people in high places.

Although legal processes have taken place and rulings have been issued after contested testimonies, many parents still find themselves without clarity or peace of mind, knowing that their child continues to seek spiritual enlightenment under a leader whose reputation is questioned.

As a parent, this uncertainty is difficult to ignore. And as much as I do not want my son to grow up influenced by rumours or gossip, I also cannot pretend that repeated public allegations, circulating before he was even born, mean nothing. Fellow parents, we live in a country where court rulings often depend on who has money, who knows who, and whose voice carries weight, leaving many people unwilling to accept the outcomes. This leaves lingering questions about whether those accused are truly guilty or falsely condemned.

To my 19-year-old son, these allegations and court cases are distant, abstract stories he does not fully grasp. He continues to walk into the same church to pray, learn, serve and belong. He sees a happily married man of God preaching confidently and a congregation that believes. I see something else. I see a child placing trust in a ministry whose leadership has been questioned too many times to ignore.

This situation has torn me apart, having to choose between faith and responsibility. I want my son to grow spiritually, but I also want him shielded from the risk. I want to respect religious freedom, yet I cannot ignore my instincts as a parent. In a country where religious leaders hold significant influence over young minds, these claims of immorality touch far more families than we admit.

Week after week, as he says, ‘Goodbye, I’m going to church,’ I can’t help but imagine a day when he might be among the victims we see on TV or in courtrooms. Still, I console myself, trusting that the God my family and I serve will watch over him wherever he goes. All of this I have carried quietly in my heart, choosing not to judge.

I know many Ugandan parents silently carry the same struggle, weighing faith against doubt. We fear being judged for questioning, yet fear even more the cost of staying silent. I remain torn: I believe in God and value church, but I also trust my duty as a parent to question, protect, and guide my child wisely. Fellow parents, standing where I stand, what would you do?