By the time the first rays of dawn pierce through the skyline of Kampala, the city is already alive, not with birds singing, but with the groaning engines of taxis, sweepers, Nakasero market is all noisy with loading and unloading of groceries.
There is the weary shuffle of feet, workers ready to labour, open churches, bars transiting into restaurants and the people who earn by the night jumping on to boda-bodas to whisk them away for perhaps a rest.
It is as if we are driven by some unseen master. It’s a race. A race against time, against poverty, against that nagging, relentless question in the heart of every worker, “Is it supposed to be like this?”
If you listen closely, you can almost hear Karl Marx chuckling from the great beyond, muttering, “I told you so.” But how did we end up here, running after cheese that appears forever out of reach? Gone are the days when work was a measure of one’s contribution to society, when a craftsman took pride in his commodities and farmers walked their fields with their chests out, knowing their sweat nourished their community.
Today, employment (read capitalism) has become a relentless marathon where the finish line only moves further away. Our ancestors, the great Banyankore cattle keepers, the Buganda cultivators, and the Iteso herdsmen had time to laugh, to share stories under the evening sky.
Today, what do we have? Endless Zoom meetings and emails that scream louder than the potholes you survived this morning. There was a time when adulting was an exciting rite of passage. You’d move out, get a job, pay your bills, and if luck smiled upon you, marry that one girl who could cook katogo the way your mother did.
But alas, adulting in the age of capitalism is a cruel joke. It’s a daily grind that leaves us praying to the gods of salary advances and mobile money loans. Can we get everyone to middle income? There’s a disappearance of the middle-income group, middle managers.
They’re just conduits-between those at the top and those at the base. We once dreamt of owning a home, but now, even renting a one-bedroom room feels like a contract to a financial life sentence and threats. We fantasized about building families, yet today, “family time” is a mystical concept. Between endless work meetings and side gigs, we barely have time for our families.
Let’s not even mention relationships; they’re now judged not by love but by one’s ability to afford an overpriced cappuccino in Kampala’s trendy cafés. Should I say the best lie ever told by our teachers is; read hard, work hard and life will be better. It turns out you have to keep on the grind.
When you see the word, “we are open 24/7”, it excites you because you’ll get a service. Come to think of it. It’s human beings doing it 24/7. It’s not an 8-to-5 anymore; it’s a 24/7, an all-time work buffet that leaves you broken. Employers park these well; shifts, overtime, flexible hours, remote work, gym without telling you it’s an internet, well lit, Wi-Fi-enabled prison. They have bought your life time.
“Our employees are our greatest asset.” Sure, you ever realised that the balance sheets in the accounts of any business do not include the estimate of the value of their greatest assets: their employees. They appear in the profit and loss account as a cost.
Yet, when push comes to shove, are they really? You know how it goes, “We regret to inform you…,” followed by a notice that makes your heart skip more beats than a Ugandan radio DJ on a Friday night. Employees, it seems, are less than assets and more like the batteries of an old radio – when the power runs out, you toss them and find another.
Yet being fair to employees can be the true hidden currency in any workplace. Better than the songs of excellence, integrity…. Fairness buys loyalty. By the way, I want you people to work. We are a product of work. God worked and saw what He had made and it was good.
He became happy and rested. But it’s time we took a hard look at the mirror. We are not commodities, nor are we mere cogs in the capitalist machine. We are humans, capable of love, compassion, and kindness. The war against capitalism is not just about dismantling an economic model; it’s about reclaiming our humanity.
It isn’t about profit; it is about Obuntu – “I am because we are.” Work had a soul then, a heartbeat that is in sync with the rhythm of life. When you watch The Wolf of Wall Street, one statement strikes; “greed is good!” Really? If we shook off the shackles of capitalism; corruption would be unheard of, no prisons, no unemployment, clean environment, safe climate, no one would be branded lazy.
Can we have a reminder that a man’s worth isn’t tied to his bank balance but to his contribution to society, his family, and his community. Policy makers come here: for starters, we need to invest in skill development and vocational training. We can’t all be doctors, accounts, lawyers-some are actually rebels, or engineers, but every Ugandan has the potential to contribute meaningfully, if only given the right tools.
We can’t continue to trade our values for valuables, our principles for profit margins. And as we chase after wealth, God and humanity have become an afterthought, decorations on the shelf, dusted off only during moments of crisis. As Che Guevara once reflected, “The true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love,” but capitalism would rather guide us by a great feeling of greed.
The author is concerned citizen