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OPINION
By Mike Ibrahim Okumu
In Kampala today, a plate of beans and posho costs about 5,000 shillings. For many shop attendants, guards, clerks, or market loaders, that is also their daily wage. Imagine working from morning to evening only to afford one meal. Under such conditions, it is no surprise that many Ugandans have lost the energy to work with commitment. Instead, they slow down, go through the motions, or quietly expect “something small” from the customer just to survive.
This is not laziness. It is the reality of an economy where too many people chase too few jobs. Workers cling to posts they dislike because they know that if they walk away, someone else is ready to take their place. Employers know this, too, so they feel little pressure to raise wages or improve conditions. Economists call this a labour surplus. Most Ugandans call it life.
The numbers speak clearly. Uganda’s median monthly wage is about sh200,000 — hardly enough for rent, food, and school fees. In agriculture, most earn even less. In the city, the so-called “low-skilled” worker averages sh412,400 (about $110), but much of that disappears into transport, rent, and family needs. For many, a day’s pay of 5,000 shillings is all too real. So workers show up, but genuine effort is rationed. Why give your all when the reward never changes?
The disappointment is sharper because of the promises Ugandans grew up with. From childhood, school mottos declare that “education is a necessity,” “good seeds will rise,” and “knowledge is power.” These words inspire hope that education will unlock a dignified adulthood. Yet after graduation, many find the labour market pays little more than subsistence. The gap between what was promised and what is delivered turns ambition into resignation.
And this quiet withdrawal is not limited to low-wage workers in shops or on farms. It is equally present in the public sector — in schools where teachers are present but disengaged, in health centres where patients queue for hours, and in offices where files pile up until citizens offer “something small” to move a service forward. The same pattern plays out in the private sector, where low wages and weak incentives mean staff go through the motions but rarely go the extra mile. The culture of pretending has become national, cutting across both public and private domains.
The cost is heavy. Customers pay twice — once officially and again in informal tips. Employers lose out through weak productivity, high turnover, and the expense of constant supervision. Public services stall, and citizens lose faith in the very institutions meant to support them. The country suffers too. According to the International Labour Organisation, one hour of work in Uganda produces goods and services worth only $3.53, far below Kenya. Between 2016 and 2021, productivity rose by just 8 percent, barely keeping up with population growth.
On paper, unemployment looks low at 1.7 percent. But that hides the truth. About 61 percent of Ugandans are in “vulnerable jobs” — casual, insecure, and poorly paid. Many are counted as employed but spend much of their day idle or hustling on the side.
Elections often raise expectations of jobs, higher pay, and better services. But when delivery falls short, the trust between citizen and state weakens. Broken promises are not just political — they feed directly into the economy by encouraging withdrawal and pretending.
Raising wages across the board is not possible overnight. But smaller steps can make a difference. Employers and public institutions alike can reward effort with recognition, fair promotion paths, flexible hours, or small bonuses. Jobs can be better designed, with clear service standards — for example, publishing how long it should take to process a document or attend to a patient — so accountability is real.
Legal side incomes, such as structured overtime or community projects, can help workers earn top-ups without forcing them into informal charges. In the long run, Uganda must create more diverse and decent jobs in agribusiness, small manufacturing, and ICT, while strengthening labour institutions so that contracts mean something and workers are fairly protected.
What is happening in Uganda today is a silent strike. Workers are not on the streets with placards; they are at their desks, in uniform, on duty. But many have already checked out inside. This quiet protest drains growth, weakens services, and erodes national confidence.
Uganda is a young country, with millions entering the labour force each year. If they learn that simply showing up is enough and effort changes nothing, then our future will be jobs without productivity, work without dignity, and growth without progress. The logic of work must change. Effort should be rewarded, dignity restored, and pretending replaced with real productivity. Jobs must once again become engines of value — for the worker, the employer, and the nation.
The writer is Associate Professor and Dean, Makerere University School of Economics
Fellow of The Uganda National Academy of Sciences (FUNAS)