UGANDA 2026: BETWEEN PROTECTING GAINS AND BETTING ON A RESET

Uganda heads into the 2026 polls with two frontrunners manifestos framing two very different economic agendas.

The ruling National Resistance Movement (NRM)of President Yoweri Museveni has staked its ground on Protecting the Gains. The National Unity Platform under Robert Kyagulanyi Ssentamu, Bobi Wine, is calling for A New Uganda Now.

The NRM’s document reads like a long ledger of growth. It starts in 1986 with a collapsed economy and the black market as the main avenue for trade, then traces the rise to a $66 billion economy today.

Museveni divides this journey into five neat phases—recovery, expansion, diversification, value addition, and entry into the knowledge economy. His promise is to push Uganda into the next phase, a $500 billion economy built not on raw exports but on processed goods, automobiles, vaccines, ICT, and a unified East African market. It is a story of continuity, of the same formula—peace, infrastructure, value addition, applied with consistency and patience.

The NUP manifesto is cast in a sharper, more urgent tone. It describes an economy weighed down by food insecurity affecting over half of households, debt that has climbed to sh116 trillion, and youth unemployment that leaves more than half of under-30s without work or training. It paints corruption as the single greatest threat to national progress, siphoning off ten trillion shillings a year.

The response is a reset: ten million jobs in the next decade, a nationwide school feeding program to fight hunger and boost agriculture, protection of land rights, and a strategy to harness the diaspora as a source of remittances, investment, and skills. Where the NRM offers continuity, the NUP offers rupture.

Yet when one reads more closely, there is an interesting admission embedded in the NUP document.

While railing against corruption and inequality, it does not dismiss the fact that Uganda has grown under NRM rule. It nods quietly to that reality but then moves quickly to the argument that growth has not been fairly shared. Its emphasis is less on how to grow the economy than on how to spread its fruits through aggressive social programs. School feeding, jobs targets, and land redistribution all speak to fairness, but they rest on an economy that still needs to be grown. How that growth will be engineered is the thinner part of the NUP story.

The NRM has the opposite problem. Growth is its strongest suit: roads, dams, and industrial parks are there to be seen. But it is weak on equity. The numbers show expansion, yet for many households the benefits remain out of reach. Income gaps persist, youth unemployment remains stubborn, and corruption continues to hollow out the very institutions meant to deliver services.

The manifesto leans heavily on the idea that growth will eventually trickle down, that if the economy is made bigger, distribution will take care of itself. But after nearly four decades, Ugandans are entitled to ask whether growth without fairness is enough.

The two documents thus circle the same dual challenge—how to grow and how to distribute, but approach it from opposite ends. The NRM promises to grow and assumes equity will follow; the NUP promises equity but is less convincing on how to sustain growth. Museveni’s vision is anchored in infrastructure and industry, betting that prosperity will eventually filter to the ordinary household. Kyagulanyi’s vision is anchored in social programs and redistribution, betting that equity will unlock growth by energising the population.

For the voter, the decision is not abstract.

It is about whether the boda rider in Kampala sees fuel prices ease, whether the farmer in Bushenyi gets a fairer price for bananas, whether the graduate in Gulu finds work, and whether the taxpayer in Mbale feels their shillings are not stolen but spent on schools and hospitals. Protecting the gains may feel safer, but it risks leaving too many behind. Resetting may feel fairer, but it risks overpromising on resources that may not exist.

The 2026 election, therefore, is not just about growth or equity, but about the uneasy balance between the two. NRM offers continuity in growth but is still learning the politics of distribution. NUP promises distribution but has not fully spelled out the mechanics of growth. Between protecting gains and betting on a reset lies Uganda’s contested path to prosperity—an old story retold, but one that each generation must decide anew.

THE BEGINNING OF THE NEXT BILLION SHILLINGS

Recently a few friends met to celebrate my friend, Jack who had achieved  a billion shilling net worth.

The commemoration was called when Jack filling in his personal balance sheet statement, discovered he had crossed the billion shilling mark, in first assets he held and in his net worth, the difference between his assets and liabilities.

It was a small gathering of like minds to celebrate Jack’s milestone, but also as two others in the party had already crossed the psychological barrier, to share experiences on their own journeys.

No notes were taken, below are my recollections from the meeting.

1.       First mindset change, action, then the manifestation

It was in his thirtieth year that he got his revelation. That being rich is not for only a select people with superior genetics or born with a silver spoon in their mouths or in hitting the mythical jackpot. He looks back now and is embarrassed to have labored under this misconception for so long.

The book “Retire Rich, Retire Young” by Robert Kiyosaki was the blinding light that struck him down on his road to Damascus. The enduring lesson from the book he learnt, is that it is not how much you earn but how much you keep and that if you want to be rich or conversely you are poor because of your spending habits.

2.       Start where you are with what you have

He has worked all his adult life. Never been without a job. So his salary is what he had to work with to build his wealth. Following the lead of American investor Warren Buffett he started investing on the Uganda Securities Exchange (USE) with occasional forays into the Kenyan market – Kengen and Safaricom IPOs. Buffet has accumulated his wealth, more than $150b at last count by investing in companies with enduring competitive advantage and holding them forever.

Investor is a daunting word but for as little as sh10,000 one can buy shares on the USE or sh100,000 allows you to buy government bills and bonds. More than half of Jack’s networth is in the stock exchange and bond market.

3.       What is not tracked cannot be improved

Jack has been tracking his balance sheet – record of his assets and liabilities, since 2005. A cursory perusal of it shows from how far he has come. From the modest beginings – in 2005 and five he had sh70 million in assets all said which included his NSSF savings, home and shares, the billion shilling networth seemed far away.

Tracking his number was of immense importance because he could maintain his commitment to shift more and more of his income towards investment and away from consumption. In the period during which he lapsed, his progress stalled and when he got back into tracking his wealth did, as if by magic, his fortunes improved.

What you do not track cannot be improved.

4.       There will be no “Big Deal”

For many of us we are waiting for the “Big deal” and then we will get rich. A cursory look over Jack’s balance sheets shows that if he had waited for that big deal to get rich he would still be living large, with nothing to show for it.

Therein lies the crux of many of our problems that we see improved living standards as the most manifest sign of progress, when it is actually the often unseen accumulation, be it of cash, securities, business or real estate that really makes the difference. When we are engaged in ostentatious consumption people see us and that gives our ego a boost, as opposed to accumulation of assets which is not easily seen by the untrained eye.

Consistent savings with NSSF and building of his share portfolio is what made the difference. Even the appreciation in the value of his home did not grow as fast either over time. As they say consistency beat intensity all the time.

5.       A billion shillings is not all that

Jack did not set out to accumulate a billion shillings. His target is freedom, financial freedom which can underpin all other freedoms. He was commemorating it because it was a recognizable milestone. As he put it, it is like he is on a journey to Entebbe from Kampala and he has only reached clock tower. Not to downgrade the achievement but there are still many potential pitfalls ahead, but at least the road ahead is looking decidedly clear.

He confessed he still runs out of money and does not yet live the way he has dreamed of, but he is on his way and God willing with a few more years, he will surely live the life he has dreamed of.

A final lesson. Jack is not a finance professional so what he achieved was not because of any special skill that he has. He has learnt a lot along the journey, but a lot of what Jack has done is down to financial commonsense: spend less than you earn, save or invest the difference and repeat until rich.

 As one of the billionaires around the table always says, the gap between knowledge and action is what prevents many of us progressing financially.

 

UGANDA 2026: THE MORE THINGS CHANGE THE MORE THEY STAY THE SAME

With the completion of presidential nominations on Wednesday, Ugandans can look forward to an election which, while some things have changed a lot, still remains the same.

The faces on the ballot may be shuffled, the slogans refreshed, but the underlying script is familiar. President Yoweri Museveni, in power since 1986, strides into the race seemingly in rude health, his endurance itself part of the message. The point is never lost on his supporters: that after nearly four decades at the helm, he can still outlast, out-organise, and out-think those who come against him. For many Ugandans, this reliability—some call it fatigue, others call it stability—continues to be a powerful electoral pitch.

Yet the opposition has not always been a sideshow. 

In 2021, Robert Kyagulanyi, the pop-star-turned-politician, mounted the most formidable challenge Museveni has faced in two decades. Not only did he come in a strong second nationally, but his National Unity Platform pulled off a bloodbath in central Uganda, ejecting every single cabinet minister on the ballot. It was a rout the NRM had not suffered since the days when northern Uganda was decisively opposed to Museveni’s government in the late 1990s and early 2000s. That wave, however, was not enough to dislodge the president from State House, but it signalled a generational shift: the urban and peri-urban youth, restless and wired, had finally found a voice.

Across the aisle today, though, the opposition is once again hobbled before the first vote is cast. 

Kizza Besigye, Museveni’s long-time nemesis and once his personal physician, has spent nearly a year in prison. The charge, treason, has yet to solidify into an actual case, but his absence is tangible. It speaks to a pattern as old as these elections themselves: opposition heavyweights removed from the field, whether through legal limbo, intimidation, or attrition.

Justice Minister Norbert Mao recently said what many whisper in private: that Uganda’s transition from Museveni will not be achieved through the ballot. Coming from a senior government insider, this admission is less a slip of the tongue than a declaration of how tightly the levers of power are held. For the opposition, whose strongest card has always been moral outrage—corruption, human rights abuses, economic injustice—it is a devastating verdict. Even if you overcome fear and apathy, even if you pack stadiums and win the memes, the game may already be rigged.

Yet elections are about who shows up, and here lies the opposition’s greatest weakness. 

The Electoral Commission’s own record shows turnout sliding: nearly 70 percent in 2006, down to 59 percent in 2011, a slight recovery in 2016, then just 57 percent in 2021. That meant five million registered Ugandans did not vote at all. By-elections in Kampala have sunk lower, to as little as 14 percent turnout. And this abstention is not neutral: Museveni’s rural, older base turns out consistently; it is the youth, urban, opposition-leaning voter who shrugs and stays home.

Uganda’s demography should be the opposition’s ace card: nearly 80 percent of citizens are under 30, most with no memory of the insecurity of pre-1986. Their complaints are contemporary—joblessness, rent, the high cost of living. If they voted, the arithmetic would tilt overnight. But abstention means those numbers remain theoretical. Outrage without turnout is theatre. And in that vacuum, the man who casts himself as the steady hand on the tiller sails on unperturbed.

So, as the 2026 contest looms, the paradox endures. The memes may be sharper, the candidates younger, the rallies noisier. But the rhythm is the same. Museveni, healthy and unbowed, strides into the race. His strongest historical challenger is in prison. His newest rival, Kyagulanyi, carries the scars of a 2021 campaign that rattled the regime but failed to break it. And a government minister has already told Ugandans what many fear—that ballots may not be the vehicle of transition.

For the opposition, the mountain is therefore twin-peaked: convince Ugandans that change is necessary, and convince them that voting is still worth it. Because in the arithmetic of abstention, silence does not punish the incumbent—it protects him. Unless Uganda’s youthful majority decides to break that silence, 2026 will look less like a turning point and more like a roundabout, circling back to the same place Uganda has been for thirty years.

NSSF'S SAVINGS GAP, A MIRROR OF UGANDA'S LABOUR MARKET

Every September, the National Social Security Fund (NSSF) makes headlines with declarations of double-digit interest rates, record asset growth, and triumphant milestones. This year, the figure was 13.5 percent—its highest payout in almost a decade. At sh26 trillion in assets under management, the Fund has cemented its place as the single largest financial institution in Uganda.

Yet behind the numbers lies a quieter, more sobering story: the yawning disparity in member savings. It is a gap so wide that it tells us as much about the structure of Uganda’s labour market as it does about the Fund’s own progress.

The Tale Told by Account Balances

For every Ugandan who retires with a comfortable balance in the hundreds of millions, there are dozens who have saved barely a million shillings after decades of work. Many accounts have less than 1 million in savings—barely enough to cover a medical emergency, let alone sustain retirement. Meanwhile, a small minority of contributors—corporate executives, senior civil servants, managers in banks and telecoms—hold balances running into hundreds of millions.

To be fair, this includes figures of the thousands of workers entering the job market for the first time or very recently.

This is not simply about individual discipline. It reflects the brutal duality of Uganda’s labour market.

Here’s a visual illustration of the savings disparity among NSSF members (using indicative, not official, data).

• Left bars (blue): percentage of members in each savings category.

• Right bars (orange): percentage of total savings held by those members.

It shows the classic skew: while most members have balances below sh5m, the bulk of savings is concentrated among a small minority with over sh50m.

A Market of Two Faces

Take a boda rider in Masaka. He may have registered for NSSF at some point, perhaps while working briefly for a logistics company. But today, as a self-employed operator, no contributions flow into his account. After five years, his balance is still below a million shillings, stagnant and eroded by inflation.

Contrast this with a mid-level banker in Kampala. Every month, his employer remits 15 percent of his salary. Over twenty years, his account grows steadily. With interest compounding at 10–13 percent annually, his balance crosses the 100-million-shilling mark.

The savings disparity within NSSF, then, is a mirror of the larger economy—where a small minority enjoy the stability of formal contracts and regular salaries, while the vast majority hustle in informal or precarious work with no safety net.

Why the Voluntary Window Matters

In 2021, Parliament amended the NSSF Act to allow voluntary contributions. For the first time, Ugandans  like market vendors, mechanics, freelance journalists can put money directly into the Fund. On paper, this was a revolution: an opportunity to democratise retirement savings, bridge inequality, and make NSSF relevant to the millions who operate outside formal contracts.

The numbers so far,  are eye opening. By mid-2025, SmartLife, the voluntary savings window, had mobilised just 27 billion shillings from about 33,000 savers since the launch in November last year. A drop in the ocean compared to the size of Uganda’s informal workforce but a powerfuiul indicator of things to come as the product gains traction.

Why such low uptake? Part of it is awareness—many Ugandans simply don’t know they can save voluntarily. Part of it is mistrust—public institutions still carry the baggage of opacity and inefficiency. And part of it is cultural savings are often seen as communal (SACCOs, burial groups, clan associations) rather than individual.

Aggressive Marketing is Needed

If NSSF is to close the savings gap, it cannot rely on legislation alone. It must market the voluntary window as aggressively as telecoms market airtime bundles. Picture adverts in taxi parks, campaigns on boda stages, roadshows in trading centres. Imagine a trusted voice in the community showing how a weekly contribution of just sh10,000 compounds into millions over a decade at double-digit interest.

The Fund should also tailor its products to the realities of informal workers. Flexible micro-savings, daily or weekly contributions through mobile money, and lock-in periods designed around school fees or harvest cycles could make voluntary savings more relatable.

This is not charity. It is strategy. If the Fund wants to hit its ambitious goal of covering 50 percent of Uganda’s working population by 2035, the frontier is not the corporates or ministries—it is the kiosks, farms, boda stages, and salons.

The Bigger Picture

The disparity in NSSF balances is more than a statistical curiosity; it is an economic risk. A society where only a minority retires with dignity while the majority slide into old-age poverty is one sitting on a time bomb. It increases dependency ratios, strains public health budgets, and erodes the promise of national savings as a driver of investment.

By mobilising the informal sector through voluntary contributions, NSSF can transform this risk into opportunity. Imagine if even half of Uganda’s 18 million workers contributed as little as sh10,000 a month. That would not only deepen the Fund’s asset base but also strengthen Uganda’s capital markets, reduce reliance on foreign capital, and enhance financial inclusion.

Conclusion: Bridging the Gap

The NSSF has come far, from a distrusted institution in the 1990s to a financial giant today. But its next frontier is not higher interest payouts or bigger real estate projects. It is closing the gap between the banker with 200 million on his account and the market vendor with 200,000.

That means making the voluntary window visible, accessible, and trusted. It means marketing savings not as an abstract retirement concept, but as a practical, life-enhancing tool.

The Fund’s slogan could well be: “If you can buy airtime daily, you can save daily.” Because until that gap closes, the NSSF story will remain incomplete—a tale of growth for the few, not security for the many.

NSSF’s FUTURE LIES BEYOND THE TRILLIONS

Later this morning the interest that NSSF will pay on members’ savings for the 2024/25 financial year will be announced.

A double digit interest payout is not an unreasonable expectation going by the year’s performance.

I still remember when the Fund’s assets first crossed the one trillion shilling mark back in 2004. It was headline news at the time, proof that Uganda was finally building local savings muscle. Two decades later, the 2024/25 results tell a story that borders on the surreal: Assets Under Management surged 17.5 percent from sh22.1 trillion to sh26 trillion, revenues crested sh3.5 trillion, and the cost-to-income ratio fell to 7.9 percent, a level global asset managers would envy. The temptation is to treat these numbers as the final destination.

But in truth they are only scaffolding. The real story is not how much NSSF has, but what it can do with what it has.

Strip away the polite phrasing at the Annual Media Dialogue that happened recently, and what you see is a de facto sovereign wealth fund. With eight in every ten shillings of its assets in fixed income, NSSF is underwriting government spending, stabilising the shilling, and backstopping the bond market.

No bank, no insurer, no private investor comes close to wielding this kind of financial clout. But if all the Fund does is mop up government paper and occasionally dabble in equities and real estate, then it remains a glorified bondholder. The real test of Vision 2035 is whether NSSF can evolve into a nation-builder, deploying its capital in ways that multiply growth, expand opportunity, and deepen trust...

This is where Hi-Innovator comes in. Tucked away from the headline slides of AUM and compliance ratios, the program may be the Fund’s most transformative play. For the first time, NSSF isn’t just investing in bricks, bonds, and blue chips—it is seeding Uganda’s entrepreneurial DNA.

The genius of Hi-Innovator is leverage. A shilling put into a government bond earns a predictable coupon. A shilling put into a start-up that cracks logistics, agritech, or fintech can multiply value not only for the Fund but for the economy at large. Every successful enterprise that grows out of Hi-Innovator expands the tax base, creates formal jobs, and ironically, produces the very contributors who will help NSSF hit its ambitious 50 percent coverage target by 2035. This is not philanthropy. It’s strategy. By nurturing tomorrow’s employers, NSSF is tackling its biggest structural headache: a formal sector that’s too narrow to sustain pension growth.

There is also the political economy at play.

Every September, when the Minister declares the Fund’s interest rate, millions of Ugandans lean in. That number is more than a return; it is a signal of trust. But what if trust was anchored not just in payouts, but in impact? Imagine a boda rider saving through Smartlife Flexi, knowing his contributions are not only compounding for retirement but also funding a fintech that makes his daily hustle more efficient. That is how the Fund moves from custodian of savings to custodian of hope.

The published Vision 2035 targets are bold: sh50 trillion in assets, 50 percent workforce coverage, and 95 percent customer satisfaction. But the unwritten vision is more radical. It is to turn Uganda’s pension fund into a development engine—mobilising savings not just to park in paper, but to ignite enterprise, innovation, and national transformation. Hi-Innovator is the wedge that makes this plausible. It bridges the gap between trillions passively managed and trillions actively shaping an economy. It is where savings morph into seed capital, where passive investors become active nation-builders.

The Fund has proven it can count the money. The next frontier is whether it can make the money count. By blending the predictability of bonds with the dynamism of entrepreneurship, NSSF can create a hybrid model—one that secures members’ retirement while laying the foundation for a more inclusive, innovative economy...

With the mechanism for collecting and investing savings now firmly set, the only thing that can let workers down is a failure of governance—mismanagement, short-term political interference, or corruption eroding the trust built over decades. That is the real risk.

But if governance holds, the unseen prospect is immense: not just in the sh26 trillion already managed, nor even in the sh50 trillion targeted by 2035, but in the ripple effects of every shilling channeled into a start-up that grows into an employer of hundreds, maybe thousands. That is the real multiplier.

The 2024/25 results confirm NSSF’s financial muscle. But the true measure of its future will not be the size of its balance sheet, but the scale of its imagination. If Vision 2025 was about building financial muscle, Vision 2035 must be about flexing it—transforming savings into the seed capital of a new Uganda.

NSSF ANNOUNCES RECORD 13.5 PCT INTEREST

Finance Minister Matia Kasaija set the room alight when he announced that the National Social Security Fund (NSSF) will pay its members an interest of 13.5 percent for the 2024/25 financial year. 

This is the highest rate the Fund has reported since the 15 percent of 2017/18.

In a country where inflation averaged just under four percent, the number is not just generous, it is transformative. It is the highest rate in four years, eclipsing last year’s 11.5 percent, the 10 percent in 2022/23, and the 9.65 percent declared in 2021/22. Only the pandemic-era payout of 12.5 percent comes close. For millions of Ugandans saving with the Fund, it is a moment of vindication.

The numbers behind the announcement tell a story of resilience and scale. NSSF’s income grew by 11 percent to sh3.51 trillion, up from sh3.18 trillion the previous year. Interest income surged to sh2.88 trillion, dividends from regional equities rose to sh238 billion, and real estate contributed 16.6 billion. These gains more than compensated for losses from currency fluctuations and a write-down on the UMEME stake. 

Chief Executive Officer Patrick Ayota described the result as “a year of disciplined execution, strong returns from fixed income, and a rebound in regional markets.” In his words, the Fund had kept its promise to beat inflation by at least two percentage points.

The Fund’s assets now stand at sh26 trillion, well above the 20 trillion shilling target set for 2025. Contributions crossed sh2 trillion for the first time, showing that more Ugandans are trusting the system with their savings. 

Membership has climbed to 3.4 million, with both mandatory and voluntary savers playing their part. Smart Life, the voluntary savings product, is drawing in low-income earners who had previously been left out of the formal safety net. 

“Our Smart Life product is evidence that saving is no longer a preserve of the formal worker. Everyone can and should build their financial security,” Ayota said.

Beyond the immediate excitement of the payout, the larger transformation lies in what the Fund is becoming. NSSF is no longer just a retirement scheme. Its Vision 2035 is anchored in expanding membership to 15 million Ugandans, growing assets to 50 trillion, and rolling out products that speak to a wider view of social security. Health insurance, estate planning, social investments, and support for enterprises under the Hi-Innovator program are all part of the mix. 

NAMCO, the partnership aimed at integrating farmers into savings through stronger market access, points to an even bigger ambition: reshaping Uganda’s savings culture.

For the economy, the Fund has become indispensable. It holds nearly a quarter of government domestic debt and more than a trillion shillings in local companies. That kind of presence means NSSF is both a stabilizer and a catalyst. When it invests, jobs are created, capital markets deepen, and confidence spreads. When it pays out, members spend or reinvest, circulating wealth back into the economy.

The 13.5 percent rate will raise expectations, and rightly so. Whether it can be sustained in a volatile regional environment will depend on governance, diversification, and discipline. But for now, savers can smile. 

NSSF'S IMPROVED GOVERNANCE HAS BEEN THE KEY TO ITS SUCCESS

On Monday, 22 September, the National Social Security Fund will once again announce the interest rate on members’ savings at its annual members’ meeting.

The number will grab the headlines, as it always does, but the real story lies behind the figure—how the Fund has managed to keep growing, the pressures it faces, and whether it can keep faith with the millions of Ugandans who look to it for security in old age.

The growth has been undeniable. From the Sh1 trillion milestone it first crossed in 2011, the Fund has now raced toSh26 trillion in assets under management. That trajectory alone has changed the national financial landscape. 

NSSF is no longer a quiet collector of payroll deductions; it is one of the largest investors in the region, a market mover in bonds, equities, and real estate. For members, that scale should be comforting—proof that their savings are being nurtured. But with size comes new questions about where the Fund is headed, and whether its growth is being matched by the prudence needed to safeguard it.

Much of the Fund’s success has come from its dominance of the domestic bond market. Month after month, NSSF steps into Bank of Uganda auctions and soaks up treasury bills and bonds, securing safe, predictable returns. 

With yields hovering between 14 and 17 percent, members have enjoyed consistent double-digit interest rates, comfortably above the ten-year average inflation rate. The pledge to always deliver at least two percentage points above 10-year average inflation has been kept, and in a country where few investments beat inflation, that is no small feat.

The mid-term access provisions introduced in recent years have tested the Fund’s ability to balance inflows and outflows. Members over 45 with at least ten years of contributions have rushed to withdraw part of their savings. Benefit payouts have at times outstripped contributions, yet the Fund has kept its commitments without losing ground. 

Liquidity has held, investment income has remained strong, and operational efficiency has improved. The turnaround time for processing benefits has been cut to under ten days, while administrative costs have been held below one percent of assets. Members can now track balances and file claims online, a far cry from the opacity of years gone by.

Beyond bonds, the Fund has tiptoed into equities and real estate. Holdings in MTN Uganda and Safaricom offer regional exposure, while projects like Lubowa and Temangalo signal ambition in bricks and mortar. Yet these ventures also raise uncomfortable questions. Housing units priced far above the reach of the average saver suggest a Fund that builds for others, not its own members. Equities provide diversification but remain a small sliver of the portfolio. In truth, the heavy lifting is still done by government debt.

And here lies the danger. Uganda’s domestic debt has ballooned past Sh56 trillion. NSSF is one of its largest creditors. That creates a concentration risk—too many eggs in one basket. A sovereign default is unlikely, but the pressure on government finances is real, and the Fund’s reliance on government paper ties its fortunes to the very borrower it cannot refuse. Members should be clear-eyed about this: the returns have been good, but they rest on an increasingly fragile fiscal foundation.

Governance is the other pressing concern. Over the last two years, the Fund has endured parliamentary probes, wrangles between ministries, and public controversy over management practices and bonuses. These are not trivial squabbles. They are reminders that the biggest risk to the Fund is not inflation or real estate volatility but weak stewardship. The mechanisms for collecting and investing savings are strong. What can undo NSSF is interference, capture, or short-term populism.

Looking ahead, the Fund stands at a crossroads. With Sh26 trillion in assets, it is one of East Africa’s largest pools of long-term capital. Managed wisely, it could finance infrastructure, energy, and regional ventures that transform the economy while earning robust returns for members. It could deepen voluntary savings products to reach the informal sector, giving millions outside formal employment a path to retirement security. It could realign its housing strategy to deliver genuinely affordable units rather than gated enclaves for the few. And it could hardwire transparency into its DNA so that members understand not just the size of their fund, but the risks and choices behind it.

The irony is that the most difficult part has already been done. The savings collection systems are in place, the investment frameworks are tested, and the habit of paying interest reliably has been entrenched. 

The only thing that can fail now is governance. If the Fund falls to politics, insider capture, or weak accountability, then all those trillions will mean nothing. Growth without governance is a mirage.

So as members gather on Monday, they will no doubt cheer the double-digit interest rate that will be announced, if the performance of the Fund and past trends are to go by. But they must also look beyond the number. 

The real question is whether NSSF can continue to grow with prudence, resist the pressures of its own success, and remain faithful to the simple promise that matters most: to protect and multiply the hard-earned savings of Ugandans. If it can do that, then the future of the Fund—and of its members—will remain secure.