On a warm Sunday in Kampala, the offering basket moves down the pews in many churches.
People drop in coins, worn notes, and sometimes an envelope. For many in Uganda, the act is as instinctive as prayer. It’s a gesture rooted not just in tradition, but in the belief that giving is as much a duty as worship.
This instinct to give, whether to the church, a neighbour, or a stranger, has made Uganda one of the most generous nations in the world, according to the World Giving Report 2025 (WGR).
The report offers a striking portrait: nearly eight in ten Ugandans donated money in 2024, with an average of 2.04 per cent of their income given away, almost double the global average. By proportion of income, Uganda now ranks sixth worldwide.
Beneath these numbers lies a deeper truth. In Uganda, generosity is not a seasonal campaign or a tax deduction. It is a lived practice, deeply tied to faith and the belief that a community’s wellbeing is everyone’s responsibility. The WGR, produced by the CivLegacy Foundation and Charities Aid Foundation, shows that 57 per cent of all donations in Uganda go to religious organisations.
The church, mosque, or temple is often the first, and sometimes the only, place people turn when they need help.
“Generosity is in line with the church doctrine of almsgiving,” says Andrew Semakula, a devout Catholic in Kampala. “It’s usually influenced by empathy and compassion.” For Phillip Tukamushaba, another Christian, the motivation is also practical.
“We give to keep our community strong. Churches need support for building, for outreach, for the work they do among the poor.”
The data confirms it: Ugandans give more when they feel a personal connection to the cause. Rather than routing donations through large charities, many prefer to give directly to an individual in need, a community fundraiser, or their place of worship, where the impact is immediate and visible.
WHY UGANDANS GIVE
Globally, the top reasons for giving are caring about the cause (65 per cent), a sense of duty (31 per cent), and religious influence (29 per cent). Across Africa, religious motivation rises to 52 per cent. But in Uganda, faith takes an even more central role, intertwined with the cultural philosophy of Ubuntu, the belief that “I am because we are.”
Giving, here, is not just an act of charity. It is a way to live a good life and leave a legacy. It’s why, even with limited resources, Ugandans volunteer their time at rates far above the global norm. In 2024, 44 per cent volunteered, spending on average 16 hours and 30 minutes a year, nearly double the global average.
“Even raising a child is seen as the responsibility of the entire village,” says Josephine Atuhaire of CivSource Africa.
“With limited government resources, Ugandans fill the gaps in healthcare, education, and social services.” Poverty might seem like a barrier to giving, but the report and experience suggest otherwise. “Even in rich countries, it is the middle and lower classes who give more,” says Jackie Asiimwe, a philanthropy advisor.
“They understand the pain of lacking access to basic services. It’s not about surplus; it’s about solidarity.”
Still, 63 per cent of Ugandans who don’t give say it’s because they simply can’t afford it. Another 18 per cent prefer to give in-kind; food, clothing, or labour, rather than cash. Interestingly, the WGR found that international charities are seen as the most trustworthy by Ugandans, with 52 per cent expressing confidence in them, followed by local and regional organisations.
Charities, the report notes, should pay attention to where people hear about them:
• 22 per cent learn through their religious community.
• 17 per cent through personal recommendations.
• Fewer than 10 per cent through street campaigns or media.
Social media is gaining ground globally, 14 per cent of donors discover charities online, suggesting that in Uganda, too, the phone in someone’s hand may soon rival the pulpit as a call to give.
WHEN GOODWILL MEETS EXPLOITATION
But generosity has a shadow side. Trust can be exploited. Just last week, Ugandan social media erupted with claims that a woman known as Mama D had raised money for emergency medical bills under false pretences.
While the allegations remain unproven, the case sparked a wave of online debate about how easy it is to manipulate goodwill in a country where most giving bypasses formal vetting. Rita Namutebi knows the sting firsthand.
At her church, she rallied friends to donate clothes and Shs 800,000 to a man she believed was helping street children. They handed everything to him directly.
“We trusted him completely,” she says.
Weeks later, a friend spotted their donated clothes on sale in a second-hand shop. The man was eventually arrested and confessed to selling the items for profit. Such scams, fake medical emergencies, endless “community projects” that never materialise, impostors posing as disabled, are common, though rarely reported to the police.
Luke Owoyesigire, Kampala Metropolitan’s deputy police spokesperson, confirms that very few cases reach law enforcement.
“Ugandans give, but sometimes this generosity is abused by people with ulterior motives,” Asiimwe says. “We need a formal giving framework that protects both the giver and the recipient.”
One of the report’s most surprising findings is the perception gap: Ugandans rank themselves 62nd in the world for generosity, far below their actual standing of sixth. That disconnect, researchers say, reflects a cultural humility: people see giving as a normal part of life, not a point of pride. But it also means Uganda’s generosity is under-celebrated, both at home and abroad.
THE ROAD AHEAD
The World Giving Report 2025 doesn’t just offer statistics, it holds up a mirror to Uganda’s identity. It’s a picture of a country where faith is not only about what happens inside the walls of a church or mosque, but about what people do when they walk out into the street.
From the Sunday collection plate to mobile money transfers for a sick neighbour, from volunteers at cancer runs to community members building schools brick by brick, giving is a thread that ties Ugandans together.
The challenge now, as Asiimwe and others point out, is to protect that spirit from exploitation, and to build systems that ensure every shilling, shirt, or sack of maize reaches the people it’s meant to help.
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