Will there be life after Uber?
Ten years after Uber came to Uganda and drastically changed the transport industry, it has just as suddenly left. An email came through last week Tuesday afternoon that, starting on September 2, 2026, Uber would cease operations in Uganda.
After 10 years, Uber bid Uganda farewell. (File)
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WHAT’S UP!
Ten years after Uber came to Uganda and drastically changed the transport industry, it has just as suddenly left. An email came through last week Tuesday afternoon that, starting on September 2, 2026, Uber would cease operations in Uganda.
I checked the date, and it was indeed the 2nd of September. I thought it was one of those phishing emails, because how does a company that has been around all this time and became almost a feature of our lives just quit without warning? Who does that?
I checked social media, and the same shock was everywhere. It turned out even Nigeria had suffered the same fate. Uber had really quit the ride-hailing business in the two countries.
The immediate reaction from many was: what’s next? What does one do without Uber? Will we miss it? Are we going back to the days of the ‘special hire’? What are the alternatives? It turned out the alternatives were readily there.
If there is one thing about me, I’m a loyal kind of guy. If you treat me well, I’ll stick with you. It takes a real cock-up for me to abandon you. That is why I finally got, and stayed with, an Airtel line only a few years ago. Since 2018, I’ve stuck with MTN through thick and thin, even when my brother was a senior manager with first Celtel, then Zain, and finally Airtel. I have still got the MTN line I got in 2018, but now it shares equal opportunities with an Airtel one.
Same with Uber. It was a great relief when they came in and saved us from those ‘special hire’ guys, who nevertheless had done quite a job in making transport easy for some of us. I did make lifelong friendships with the drivers who used to park at the special hire taxi rank in Ntinda.
Uber revolutionised transport in this country and, in effect, brought us ‘freedom from cars’. You didn’t need a car to get anywhere in Kampala, or to pick up anyone. You could just order an Uber for them. In fact, one time I was in Johannesburg and ordered an Uber for a friend in Kampala, and she got to where she was going just fine.
Uber chronicles
When I called the driver the next morning, he admitted to seeing it; it was at his home in Mukono, his car was in the garage, but he could get a colleague to deliver it to me, at the unheard-of fee of sh100,000.
At that time, the Uber offices were almost next door to the New Vision, so I walked over and reported the driver. They called him, and he turned out to be in the next room. He brought the tripod the next day, for a grand fee of sh20,000.
I felt safe travelling with Uber, whatever time it was or whatever state I was in. I knew the driver was accountable to the company, and so wouldn’t do any funny stuff.
I remember one driver wouldn’t let me pay for the trip because I was a writer, and he wanted to be one too. Another didn’t say a word until he was just about to drop me off, then blurted out: “I know you. I saw your cartoon in the paper!”
Then there were the female drivers. One insisted I take her number, and another always turned right when I said to turn left. Another asked if she could come in with me when she dropped me off at Club Silk, then drop me home afterwards.
One guy driver narrated how he loved working late nights, for there would always be female clients who would rather pay ‘in kind’.
But slowly, the drivers’ attitudes started to change. It would start with, “Where are you? Where are you going? Will you pay me this amount? Can we go off-app?”
The excuse was always that Uber took a large commission from the fee, and ‘times were hard’. But you are using the app to make whatever money you are making, isn’t that cheating?
Others wouldn’t go to certain places, because they said they wouldn’t be able to get a paid trip back. But still, you knew that before signing on.
“You just have lugezigezi,” one retorted.
Then, a couple of times, the drivers would not record the payments I made, and Uber would notify me that I owed them money. After a long process, where I proved time and again that I had paid (thank God for mobile money), they would reinstate my access.
Then there was the competition, like Safe Car and Bolt.
It is weird, because most often the same driver would be using all the apps. But, as someone said, they seemed to have split personalities.
Driving as Uber, they would be more professional, but also more arrogant. Safe Car drivers are politer, but take ages to get to you, even as the app shows they are only a minute away.
One driver actually said he was still having breakfast and asked if I could wait for him. I cancelled and got another one, but he still showed up and insisted I pay him for the distance he had driven to get to me. The nerve!
So, why did Uber really leave? Some say it is because Ugandans would rather take bodabodas than hail a ride. But there are a lot more bodas in Kenya, and Uber is still there.
But anyway, there will still be life, and transport, without Uber.
You can follow Kalungi Kabuye on X: @KalungiKabuye