Who is Kampala for?

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OPINION

By Kiridde Victoria

At dawn, the streets of Kampala come alive with energy. Vendors arrange their stalls, boda boda riders accelerate their engines, cars cause traffic, and office workers rush to beat traffic. It is a city of opportunity, ambition, and movement. But beneath this daily rhythm lies a pressing question: who truly has a place in Kampala?

In the previous months, the city authorities have intensified efforts to “clean up” the streets. Hawkers, many of them unemployed youth, are frequently chased away from the very spaces they depend on for survival. These young people are not on the streets by choice; they are there because formal employment remains out of reach. For them, the roadside is not just a workplace—it is a lifeline.

Uganda has one of the youngest populations in the world, yet job creation has not kept pace with this rapid growth. Each year, thousands of graduates and school leavers migrate to Kampala in search of better opportunities. What they often find instead is stiff competition, limited vacancies, and a harsh reality that forces many into informal work.

Street vending, though often dismissed as disorderly or illegal, plays a significant role in the urban economy. It provides affordable goods to residents and creates income for those who might otherwise have none. When vendors are chased away without viable alternatives, the problem is not solved—it is simply displaced. Poverty deepens, frustration grows, theft escalates, and the cycle continues.

Supporters of strict enforcement argue that clearing the streets improves order, sanitation, and the city’s image. There is truth in this. A well-organised city benefits everyone. However, development that excludes the most vulnerable raises serious concerns. A modern city should not only look good—it should work for all its people.

The real issue is not the presence of street vendors, but the absence of inclusive policies. Instead of constant expulsions, authorities could allocate specific vending zones, provide training programs, and create pathways into formal employment. Empowering youth rather than pushing them aside would transform Kampala into a city that truly belongs to its people.

The question remains: is Kampala a city for the privileged few, or for everyone striving to make an honest living? The answer will depend on the choices made today. If the city continues to shut out its most vulnerable, it risks widening inequality and social tension. But if it embraces inclusivity, Kampala can become a model of urban growth that leaves no one behind.

In the end, a city is not defined by its buildings or roads, but by how it treats its people. And until every youth chasing a dream has a place to stand, the question—who is Kampala for?—will remain unanswered.