Fellow Ugandans, When the Minister of State for Finance, Planning and Economic Development, says Uganda’s economy will grow 7% in 2025/26, two Ugandas hear two different things.
Elite Uganda hears spreadsheets. Debt-to-GDP ratios. Investor confidence. IMF meetings in Washington. They open Excel and start adjusting projections.
Ordinary Uganda hears the word “growth” and looks at the price of posho. Then looks at their mobile money balance. Then asks, “So when does my life grow 7%?”
Minister Henry Musasizi’s projection is not wrong. By the math of economists, Uganda could hit 7% next financial year. Oil is coming. The refinery is moving. The pipeline to Tanga is real. Construction alone — roads, camps, terminals — will push concrete and cash through the system.
But here is the brutal truth both Ugandas need to hear: GDP growth is not your salary. Oil growth is not your shop’s growth. And 7% means nothing if you’re still the 93%.
The Oil Promise vs The Oil Reality
Oil will push growth higher. That part is true. The Albertine region is already a construction site. Trucks, jobs, contracts. When the first barrel is exported, the dollars will hit Bank of Uganda’s books and the Finance Ministry will smile.
But ask the man in Hoima who was compensated for his land in 2019: “Are you 7% richer today?”
Ask the graduate in Buliisa who did welding training for the oil camps: “How many months have you worked in 12?”
Oil economies have a disease. Economists call it the “resource curse.” Ordinary people call it “enyama y’omuyindi” — the Indian’s meat. You see it, you smell it, but it’s not on your plate.
The 7% growth will be real. But it will be concentrated. In Kampala law firms writing oil contracts. In foreign logistics companies moving pipes. In hotels in Hoima charging $200 a night. In government tax revenue.
The question is not “Will Uganda grow?” The question is “Will Ugandans grow?”
Why 7% Feels Like 0% to the Street
Growth means the total size of the economy expands. If Uganda’s economy was Shs200 trillion last year, 7% growth means it becomes Shs214 trillion.
But if Shs13 trillion of that Shs14 trillion new money goes to 200 companies and 1,000 well-connected individuals, the other 45 million people share Shs1 trillion. Do the math. That’s Shs22,000 per person. Per year. Shs1,800 per month.
That’s why a market woman in Nakawa can listen to “7% growth” and still fail to pay her kid’s Shs150k school fees. Her stall didn’t grow 7%. Her customers didn’t grow 7%. Only the national number did.
Inflation is 3% today, as Bank of Uganda says. That’s good. But if your income grew 0% and prices grew 3%, you are 3% poorer. Add 7% national growth to that equation and nothing changes in your pocket. You’re still minus.
The Two-Headed Beast: Oil Money and Dutch Disease
Oil money is coming. But oil money is dangerous money. It’s dollars, not shillings. When dollars flood in, the shilling gets stronger.
A stronger shilling sounds good until you’re a coffee farmer in Masaka. Your coffee is sold in dollars. If the shilling strengthens from Shs3,700 to Shs3,200 per dollar, you get Shs500 less for every dollar of coffee. Your costs — labor, fertilizer, transport — are still in shillings. You lose.
It’s called “Dutch Disease.” Oil kills other exports by making them expensive. Uganda learned this with coffee in the 1990s when aid dollars flooded in. We risk learning it again with oil dollars.
So the Ministry celebrates 7% growth. But the maize exporter in Kapchorwa, the tourism operator in Kasese, the young coder in Ntinda trying to export software — all of them could get weaker while the country gets “stronger.”
That’s the paradox Musasizi won’t mention on camera: oil growth can shrink your growth.
What Elite Uganda Must Do With the 7%
If you’re reading this from a boardroom, 7% is your test.
Oil will give government money. Money to waste or money to wire into the future.
Wire it like this:
Tax the oil, don’t spend the oil. Norway saves its oil money and lives off the interest. Uganda can’t save all of it, but it can refuse to use oil cash for salaries and trips. Use oil for roads, rail, electricity, internet. Things that make a boda guy’s next 7% possible.
Kill the leakages now. Every dollar stolen from oil is a dollar that won’t build a school. And when oil starts, the thieves get hungrier. If we can’t jail a Shs500M thief today, we won’t jail a Shs500B thief tomorrow.
Force local content to be real. Not 5% of a contract to a Kampala broker. Real welding jobs in Kikuube. Real food supply from Kyangwali farmers. Real insurance from Ugandan firms. Otherwise, 7% growth means TotalEnergies grows, Uganda watches.
What Ordinary Uganda Must Do With the 7% News
If you’re reading this from a taxi, don’t wait for 7% to find you. It won’t.
Skill up for what oil touches. Oil needs drivers, caterers, welders, guards, IT, accountants. Not everyone will work in the oil field, but everyone can work around it. The woman who supplies eggs to the camp is in oil.
Ask hard questions locally. Your LC5, your MP — when they clap for 7% growth, ask them: “Which road in my sub-county is in the budget? Which water project? Which youth fund?” Growth without a local address is a rumor.
Don’t borrow against the press release. Banks will start selling “oil opportunity loans.” Your income hasn’t changed yet. If you borrow for a boda because “oil is coming,” and oil delays, the bike gets taken. Wait for the contract, not the projection.
The Real Target Isn’t 7%. It’s 7% That You Can Touch
Minister Musasizi is doing his job. His job is to project, to plan, to attract. 7% looks good in Paris and Beijing. It keeps our debt rating alive. It keeps investors interested.
But Uganda’s job — yours and mine — is to ask: 7% for whom?
If oil pushes us to 8% or 9% in 2027 but youth unemployment stays at 70%, we failed. If Kampala towers get taller but Gulu’s youth still ride boda at 35, we failed. If reserves hit $10 billion but a mother in Bundibugyo still dies because there’s no ambulance fuel, we failed.
Growth is a means. The end is a Ugandan who wakes up and feels, in her bones, that this year is better than last year.
Until that woman says “I grew 7%,” the Minister’s 7% is just a number on a screen.
And numbers don’t buy matooke.
