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OPINION
By Joshua Kato, CA.
Once upon a time, money was scarce, and borrowing carried shame; families whispered about the relative who sold land or mortgaged goats just to repay a lender. Today, borrowing has been dressed in shiny clothes, so convenient, so fast, and so digital that people embrace debt as casually as buying roasted maize on the roadside. Yet beneath this comfort lies a silent burden, quietly tearing through households, associations, friendships, and businesses across Uganda.
Decades ago, wealth grew slowly. People worked, saved, and waited patiently before buying a cow, building a house, or throwing a wedding. Now, it seems just a tap away. A mobile notification blinks: “Congratulations, your loan has been approved!” Money arrives instantly, no queues, no paperwork, no delays. For a moment, it feels like magic. But magic has a price. Behind the glitter of “quick loans” lurk interest rates that can exceed 100% annually, unlicensed credit apps spreading like wildfire, and loan sharks waiting in the shadows. Convenience has quietly transformed into chains of debt.
Consider a true story about Ronald, a university student in Mbarara. He borrowed sh150,000 from a moneylender to impress friends at a birthday party. With 20% monthly interest and no steady income, he defaulted within two months. The lender stormed his parents’ home, demanding repayment. His father had to sell goats to clear the debt, and Ronald admits, shaking his head, “It was just one party, but it cost me my father’s trust. I wish I had never borrowed.”
Debt does more than strain wallets; it breaks lives. Families sell land, lose cattle, or pull children out of school to cover unpaid loans. Friendships and community trust crumble. People avoid calls, disappear from WhatsApp groups, and even SACCOs and burial groups falter when members default. A 2022 Financial Consumer Protection Survey by FSD Uganda found that 61% of digital loan users borrowed to cover daily consumption rather than investment, creating a vicious cycle of dependency.
In recent months, I have met countless friends, family and individuals lamenting loans from mobile apps, banks, SACCOs, moneylenders, and even friends. Their stories repeat themselves: money borrowed in excitement or desperation, quickly spent on consumption rather than investment, followed by endless stress as repayments spiral out of control.
The convenience of digital loans today is unmatched. Under Kampala’s orange streetlights, Kanyijuka taps “accept” on a mobile loan app offering sh200,000. It promises groceries, transport, or airtime—but by early morning, hidden fees and interest have piled up, almost doubling what she borrowed. She lies awake, wondering how to repay. Across Uganda, millions face the same reality: easy money today, crushing debt tomorrow. Some live in fear of threats, insults, and public shaming from loan sharks.
Scenario A: The Well-Planned Borrower
Huzaifa, a small business owner, needs sh10 million to stock his shop. He compares two options: a licensed Tier 4 moneylender charging 2.8% per month over 12 months, and an unlicensed app offering instant cash at 15% monthly interest with hidden fees and threats. Joseph chooses the licensed lender, budgets carefully, ensures sales cover repayment, and completes payments on time. He maintains dignity, builds trust, and strengthens his credit record.
Scenario B: The Trap of Convenience
Oprah borrows sh500,000 from a digital app for urgent medical bills, facing 15% monthly interest. Missing one payment triggers late fees, escalating interest, and harassment of relatives. Borrowing again to cover the first loan, she soon owes sh1.2 million. The stress affects her mental health, relationships, and overall well-being.
Uganda’s government and regulators are aware of predatory lending and have taken steps: capping Tier 4 moneylender rates at 2.8% per month, identifying 59 illegal online loan apps, and recovering national IDs seized by lenders. President Museveni has condemned extortionate rates exceeding 240% annually, especially in rural areas. Yet enforcement remains challenging, as many lenders operate clandestinely, while borrowers often lack awareness or fear speaking out.
The fairytale of easy borrowing can end two ways: happily, with loans growing businesses and families, or tragically, with assets seized and households in tears. Convenience is not always good; sometimes, it is the poison that kills slowly. The real cost of financial indiscipline is not just money; it is dignity, trust, and peace of mind.
The principle is simple: if the loan does not create value greater than its cost, it is not worth taking. If the loan acquired doesn’t adequately cover your needs or generate benefits, it’s better to avoid it. Borrow wisely, and let every borrowed shilling work for growth, not stress.
The writer is a Chartered Accountant and a Chartered Tax Advisor