Every year, billions of shillings pour into Uganda quietly, steadily, lovingly—from all corners of the globe. Somewhere between sh4 trillion and sh5 trillion a year, depending on who’s counting and when.
Behind each
dollar is a person: a nurse in London, a security guard in Doha, a software
engineer in Johannesburg. And behind each of them is a story—a story of
sacrifice, long hours, missed weddings and funerals, all driven by that deeply
Ugandan impulse to “send something home.”
So when Julius Kakeeto, Chairman of the Uganda Bankers’ Association (UBA), stepped up at the 8th Annual Bankers Conference last week and posed the question—how do we move from simply receiving remittances to using them to build the country? He wasn’t talking theory. He was talking about one of the most underused, underestimated engines of development in Uganda today: diaspora money.
We’re already
halfway there. The diaspora is sending the money. More than our FDI, sometimes
more than our official aid. But most of it is being consumed. School fees,
rent, food, the occasional plot. Necessary things, yes—but things that do not
compound. Money that does not multiply.
And then
there’s the real estate drama. It’s one thing to spend diaspora money. It’s
another to waste it. Over the years, stories have multiplied of diaspora buyers
sending cash for property, only to end up with cracked walls, poor finishes,
and houses built on swamp land.
Kakeeto, also
the CEO of PostBank, whose Wendi mobile wallet is well positioned to help in
mopping up diaspora funds, was refreshingly candid about this, acknowledging
the concerns of diaspora clients and promising action—longer liability periods
for developers, stronger oversight, and better customer support from banks.
Good steps, all of them.
But the real opportunity lies in treating the diaspora not just as consumers but as investors. Countries like India, Ethiopia, and Kenya have all raised money through diaspora bonds to fund national development. Uganda can do the same—issue a properly structured, transparent bond offering modest, tax-free returns and use it to build agro-industrial parks, solar plants, roads, even hospitals. A “My Country My Bond” type of thing. One where people invest not just for profit, but out of pride.
The
challenge? You can take the man out of the village, but you can’t take the
village out of the man. Many of our people abroad—especially in the Middle
East—still send their money home with a cousin or through mobile money. They’ve
heard too many horror stories to trust new schemes. Some don’t even know what a
bond is. Like their cousins back home, they may not take up the offer—not for
lack of interest, but for lack of knowledge.
This is where
we need a serious, coordinated financial literacy campaign. Not a one-off
webinar. A real effort. Multi-platform. Continuous. Diaspora-targeted.
And let’s not stop at remittances. If we can get the diaspora to trust the economy, to believe in the stability of our policies and the seriousness of our governance, then their role becomes even more powerful...
Diaspora
Ugandans can attract foreign direct investment. They can introduce Ugandan
entrepreneurs to capital abroad. They can pitch Uganda in investment boardrooms
in London, Nairobi, and New York. If they believe in the story, they will sell
it better than any agency ever could.
But belief
needs evidence. That means fixing the broken things: corruption that derails
projects, policies that change without warning, land conflicts that take years
to resolve. It means building credible institutions and upholding them. It
means not treating every diaspora dollar as bait to be chewed and spat out by
crooked middlemen.
It also means
making formal remittance channels cheaper, faster, and safer. A big chunk of
remittances still comes in through informal means—money in pockets, mobile
money workarounds, unlicensed agents. If banks want a bigger share of this pie,
they need to partner smartly with fintechs, mobile operators, and international
remittance companies. Build trust. Lower fees. Offer value.
And please, let’s stop treating the diaspora like one uniform group. They’re not. There’s the delivery driver in Dubai. The nurse in Texas. The systems analyst in Nairobi. They all have different incomes, different goals, different levels of exposure and risk tolerance. A one-size-fits-all approach won’t work. The diaspora bond we pitch to someone in Canada won’t be the same one that appeals to someone in Muscat. Segment. Tailor. Respect their diversity.
Kakeeto
closed his speech with a metaphor that stuck: “No matter how long the river flows, it never forgets its source.”
That’s the diaspora. A river of goodwill. Of sacrifice. Of steady, quiet love.
It hasn’t forgotten us. But if we want this river to keep flowing—and to flow
with purpose—we must honour its source. Not just with warm words and welcome
slogans, but with strategy, integrity, and structure.
