A few weeks ago, a boda rider I often meet told me business had improved. Fuel prices had stabilised, rides were more frequent, and on a good day he could take home sh30,000. “Things are better,” he said, with a shrug that suggested cautious optimism.
But as we
talked, the cracks appeared. His children had missed school the previous term
over fees. The household still cooked on charcoal. Water came from a shared
source two lanes away. When he fell sick last year, treatment meant borrowing
from a savings group. Better income, yes. Better life? Not quite.
Last week,
the Uganda Bureau of Statistics
(UBOS) released the Multidimensional
Poverty Index (MPI) 2024 report a fresh and long-overdue look
at our development story.
For years, we
have measured poverty by what is in people’s pockets. The MPI forces a more
uncomfortable question: what is missing from
their lives?
That shift
matters.
"Uganda’s poverty debate has long been framed in narrow terms. Traditionally, we have not even measured poverty by income, but by consumption—how many calories one can afford. If a household can meet minimum food requirements, it is deemed non-poor. By that logic, our boda rider is improving.
But this has
always been a flawed lens. Calories can fill the stomach, but they do not power
a home, educate a child, insure a family, or connect a business to opportunity.
Western
economies, by contrast, define poverty far more broadly—by living standards: access to
electricity, clean water, education, healthcare, financial services, and the
opportunities these unlock. Poverty there is not just about survival; it is
about participation in a modern economy.
And that
difference has quietly given us a false sense of
progress.
We have
celebrated declining poverty rates while ignoring the fact that millions remain
locked out of the very systems that create prosperity. The economy has
grown—telecoms crossing the billion-dollar revenue mark, banks posting record
profits, capital markets deepening—but the lived experience of many Ugandans
has changed far more slowly.
The MPI is an
attempt to correct that distortion.
By design, it
moves beyond income to capture deprivation across education, health, basic services, and living
standards. It asks whether a child is in school, whether a
household has electricity, whether it can access clean water, whether anyone
has health insurance, whether the family is financially included. In short, it
measures not just survival—but capability.
This is not new
territory for this column.
Over the years, we have returned to a recurring theme: Uganda’s growth story is uneven. It is clear that we can grow this economy even in our sleep—we are currently the enjoyintg the longest stretch of economic growth since 1900. The last time the economy did not grow was in 1985.
We have seen
sectors thrive while households struggle. We have told the story of the
supplier crippled by domestic arrears, the small business starved of credit,
the household one illness away from collapse.
What the MPI
does is connect these dots.
It shows that
poverty in Uganda is not merely about low income—it is structural. A household may
earn something, but still be deprived in multiple dimensions at once: no
electricity, poor schooling, no financial access, inadequate housing. These are
not temporary setbacks; they are constraints that limit productivity,
opportunity, and ultimately growth.
In that
sense, the MPI confirms what has long been evident beneath the surface:
Uganda’s economy is generating value, but not yet distributing the ability to create value.
Take
financial inclusion. For years, we have argued that access to banking and
mobile money is not a luxury, but an economic necessity. The MPI now formally
recognises this—classifying households without access to financial services as
deprived. That is a significant conceptual shift.
The same
applies to infrastructure. When we write about water, sanitation, or
electricity, it is often framed as a business issue—the cost of doing business.
The MPI reframes it as a household issue: without these basics, individuals
cannot participate meaningfully in the economy.
And then
there is employment. Not just whether people work, but the quality and
stability of that work. Growth without jobs—or with precarious jobs—creates the
illusion of progress without its substance.
"The MPI does
not solve these problems. But it does something equally important: it changes the question...
Instead of
asking, “How many Ugandans are poor?” it asks, “In how many ways are Ugandans
deprived?”
That
distinction is crucial.
"Because once you see poverty as multidimensional, the policy response must also change. It is no longer enough to chase GDP growth or expand incomes at the margins. The focus must shift to systems: education that works, healthcare that protects, infrastructure that connects, financial systems that include.
Markets alone will not deliver this. Nor will the state acting in isolation. It requires a coordinated approach—public investment, private innovation, and institutional discipline.
Encouragingly,
some of the building blocks are already in place. The expansion of mobile
money, the push toward digital banking, the gradual extension of electricity
access—these are steps in the right direction. But they need to scale, and they
need to connect.
At its core, the MPI is a reminder of a simple but often forgotten truth, to paraphrase the good book – man was not made for the economy but the economy was made for man.
