At dawn, when Kampala is still yawning and the sun barely peeks over Kololo Hill, Nansamba is already arranging her matoke by the roadside. She doesn’t wear a suit or work in an air-conditioned office, but her hands are as patriotic as any flag-bearer’s. In Jinja, Ssuubi, a metal fabricator, is already hammering away at steel frames, sparks flying as his radio hums a patriotic tune. Meanwhile, in Mbarara, Samantha, a young accountant, opens her laptop to file VAT returns for clients before heading to work.
None of them may feature in speeches or stand on a podium at Kololo on Independence Day, but together, they keep Uganda moving. They are the silent builders of independence: the ordinary Ugandans who fund our freedom one tax at a time.
When Uganda’s flag first rose in 1962, there was music, hope, and a dream that we would never again rely on others to shape our destiny. Yet, while the colonial administrators departed politically, the economic blueprint they left behind still whispered of dependency, export raw, import finished, borrow to build.
True independence was always meant to be deeper than flags and anthems. It was supposed to live in how we earn, how we trade, and most importantly, how we fund our own progress. And that is where the story of people like Nansamba, Ssuubi, and Samantha comes in the unsung patriots financing the dream our forefathers began.
During colonial rule, taxation was not about development; it was about control. The hut tax and poll tax forced Ugandans into wage labor to sustain the empire. It was a tool of coercion. But in modern Uganda, paying tax has become an act of ownership, a civic declaration that this nation belongs to us, and we are responsible for its growth as citizens.
Since independence, Uganda’s tax system has evolved tremendously. In the early years after 1962, the country relied heavily on trade taxes, import and export duties. By the 1980s, due to political instability and an eroding tax base, revenue performance had collapsed to below 6% of GDP. Uganda was almost entirely dependent on donor funding for survival.
Then came reforms in the 1990s: the establishment of the Uganda Revenue Authority (URA) in 1991 marked a new chapter. The tax-to-GDP ratio climbed from under 8% in 1992 to around 12% by the early 2000s. Continuous efforts in digitization, compliance enforcement, and tax education saw it inch toward 14% by 2024, still below the Sub-Saharan average of 16%, but a remarkable journey of national effort nonetheless.
Each percentage point in that ratio represents thousands of Ugandans like Samantha who ensure taxes are filed correctly, like Ssuubi who issues EFRIS receipts to customers, and like Nansamba who contributes through excise taxes every time she refuels her small truck to deliver goods.
Uganda’s economy today is vibrant and diverse. From the bustling trade in Kikuubo to the factories of Namanve and the farms of Masaka, Ugandans are demonstrating what economic freedom truly means.
Nansamba represents the small trader, the informal but determined backbone of Uganda’s economy. Her resilience keeps markets alive, families fed, and commerce flowing.
Ssuubi, the fabricator, mirrors the industrial hope, transforming raw materials into local products, slowly reducing the need for imports.
Samantha, the accountant, symbolizes compliance and professionalism, the bridge between the government and the citizenry through structured tax administration.
Together, they embody the nation’s fiscal heartbeat. When they pay, declare, and comply, they are not just following rules, they are renewing independence every single day.
Every nation funds its freedom differently. Some through oil, some through gold, others through taxation. For Uganda, it is the latter, our ability to collect and manage our taxes wisely defines how independent we truly are.
In FY2024/25, URA reported collections of over UGX 25 trillion, covering roughly 75% of the national budget. That’s an improvement from 20 years ago when less than half of the budget was funded domestically. While we still borrow for large infrastructure projects, Uganda’s fiscal path increasingly leans on its own taxpayers, a quiet revolution of self-reliance.
This progress, however, depends on trust. Citizens like Samantha pay taxes not because they enjoy it, but because they believe those funds will return to the people through better roads, hospitals, and schools. That faith must be continually nurtured through accountability and transparency, so that each shilling collected feels like an investment, not a loss.
The real spirit of independence lives in Uganda’s entrepreneurial hustle. Over 60% of the workforce operates in the informal sector, driving small enterprises that employ millions. These are not statistics; they are citizens doing the hard work of building a self-sufficient Uganda. When Ssuubi fabricates metal doors instead of importing them, that’s import substitution.
When Nansamba registers her stall with the city council and issues a receipt, that’s formalization.
When Samantha trains SMEs on how to stay tax compliant, that’s fiscal literacy in motion. Each act might seem small, but together they form the bedrock of economic sovereignty, the kind of independence that no foreign power can dictate.
Despite our progress, challenges remain. Uganda’s tax-to-GDP ratio, though improving, must rise if we are to fully fund our ambitions. The goal, according to the Ministry of Finance, is to reach 18% by 2030 through efficiency, digitization, and inclusion of the informal sector.
That’s where the next generation comes in. Uganda’s youth—creative, digital, and dynamic, must see tax compliance not as a burden but as participation in nation-building. When a tech startup pays taxes, when an online seller registers for TIN, they are adding fresh ink to the independence story our forefathers began.
Economic freedom will never come from aid; it comes from accountability, productivity, and shared contribution.
As we celebrate 63 years of independence, let’s pause to honor the silent patriots who keep the economy alive. The traders, farmers, accountants, and entrepreneurs who, through daily work and tax contribution, ensure that Uganda’s freedom is more than a memory, it’s a movement.
They don’t raise flags, but they raise revenue.
They don’t march at parades, but they move the economy forward.
They don’t hold microphones, but their voices echo in every hospital, classroom, and road built from their taxes.
If the heroes of 1962 gave us political independence, then Nansamba, Ssuubi, and Samantha are giving us fiscal independence, one receipt, one return, and one honest day’s work at a time.
And when history books are rewritten, may they record not just those who fought for Uganda’s freedom, but those who funded it.
And it lives in the hands of Ugandans who power the economy, one tax at a time.
The writer is a Chartered Accountant and a Chartered Tax Advisor
