In Kampala today, South African companies operate freely, profitably, and without fear. MTN Uganda, Shoprite (until its recent exit, after years of dominance), Game Stores, MultiChoice DStv, Stanbic Bank, Eskom Uganda, and several South African-linked logistics and insurance firms have long enjoyed stability, market access, and the protection of Ugandan law.
These companies have been welcomed because Ugandans believe in regional integration, open markets, and the idea that Africans should prosper across borders. Yet, while South African businesses flourish in Kampala, Ugandan citizens living or working in South Africa continue to face threats from xenophobic violence—violence that has repeatedly targeted Africans who simply seek opportunities in a fellow African nation.
This contradiction demands accountability, and Ugandans have every right to ask why their countrymen are endangered in a land where their own government has extended goodwill and economic access to South African enterprises.
The pattern is not new. Xenophobic attacks in South Africa have erupted in waves—in 2008, 2015, 2017, 2019, and again in recent years—each time leaving African migrants dead, displaced, or traumatized. Governments across the continent have been forced to repatriate their citizens, from Nigeria to Malawi, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and even Uganda.
These repatriations are not symbolic gestures; they are emergency evacuations prompted by fear, instability, and the sense that African lives are not safe within South Africa’s borders. When African states must charter planes to rescue their own people from another African country, something is deeply broken in the continental spirit. It is not unreasonable for Ugandans to demand that South Africa confront this crisis honestly and decisively.
The tragedy is amplified by the fact that Africans should never have been foreigners to one another in the first place. The borders that define our passports, our nationalities, and our supposed differences were not drawn by African hands.
They were carved by European colonial powers at conferences like Berlin in 1884–85, where Africa was partitioned without a single African present. As historian Basil Davidson once wrote, “Africa was divided up like a cake, with no regard for the people who lived there.” Kwame Nkrumah echoed the same truth when he argued that “the artificial divisions of Africa are a relic of colonialism and a barrier to our unity.”
Without these imposed boundaries, Africa would have evolved as one interconnected society, with shared cultures, trade routes, and kinship systems that long predated colonial rule. The idea that a Ugandan should be treated as a foreigner in South Africa—or vice versa—is a distortion of history, not a reflection of it.
Pre-colonial Africa was defined by movement, exchange, and fluid identity. The Bantu migrations spread language and culture across Central, Eastern, and Southern Africa. The Swahili coast linked trade from Mogadishu to Sofala. The kingdoms of Buganda, Mapungubwe, Mali, and Great Zimbabwe interacted through commerce, diplomacy, and shared systems of governance.
Africans were not strangers to one another; they were part of a continental tapestry. Even today, the cultural similarities between Ugandans and South Africans—from food to music to social values—reflect a deeper historical unity that colonial borders attempted to erase. To treat an African as an outsider on African soil is to uphold the very logic of colonialism.
This is why xenophobic violence feels like a betrayal. It is not merely criminality; it is a rejection of African brotherhood. It is a denial of the Pan-African vision articulated by leaders like Julius Nyerere, who insisted that “Africans must unite or perish.”
It is a contradiction of Nelson Mandela’s own words when he said, “We are one people with a common destiny.” South Africa’s liberation struggle was supported by African nations that offered refuge, training, and resources.
Uganda, Zambia, Tanzania, Angola, Mozambique, and others paid a price for apartheid’s destabilization campaigns, yet they stood firm because they believed in a shared African future. For South Africans to now turn against fellow Africans is not only morally wrong—it is historically ungrateful.
Ugandans have shown extraordinary restraint in the face of these provocations. Kampala has not erupted in retaliatory protests. South African businesses have not been threatened. Ugandan leaders have not encouraged hostility. But restraint should never be mistaken for weakness.
Africa is watching, and Africa is growing impatient. If South African citizens continue to attack Africans, it is inevitable that African nations will begin to question why South African companies enjoy safety and profit in their markets while their own citizens bleed in the streets of Pretoria and Johannesburg.
Retaliation is not desirable, but it is possible. And once it begins, it will be difficult to contain. A continental crisis could emerge—not because Africans want conflict, but because they want justice.
This is not a call for violence; it is a warning about consequences. South African leaders must act decisively to end xenophobic attacks, prosecute perpetrators, and educate communities about the realities of African migration. They must acknowledge that African migrants are not enemies—they are contributors to South Africa’s economy, culture, and future.
They must remember that South Africa’s prosperity is tied to the goodwill of the continent. If African nations begin to withdraw that goodwill, the economic impact will be severe. South African companies rely on African markets for expansion, revenue, and stability.
MTN’s dominance in Uganda, Stanbic’s central role in the banking sector, MultiChoice’s media influence, and the historical presence of Shoprite and Game Stores all demonstrate how deeply South African business interests are intertwined with Uganda’s economy. These companies thrive because Ugandans believe in openness. But openness must be mutual.
Uganda has the right to demand accountability. African nations have the right to insist that their citizens be treated with dignity. And South Africa has the responsibility to ensure that its internal challenges do not spill over into violence against innocent Africans. The continent cannot afford another cycle of xenophobic attacks. The African Union cannot continue issuing statements without enforcement. The dream of African unity cannot survive if Africans fear one another.
The truth is simple: Africa was meant to be one society. Colonialism fractured it, but Africans can still repair it. That repair begins with recognizing that no African should be a foreigner on African soil. It begins with protecting one another, not attacking one another.
It begins with South Africa acknowledging that its destiny is tied to the continent that supported it through its darkest hours. And it begins with leaders—South African leaders, most urgently—taking responsibility before frustration turns into retaliation.
South Africa must act now. Not tomorrow, not after another tragedy, not after another repatriation flight. Now. Because the continent is watching, and the continent is tired. Africa wants peace, unity, and dignity for all its people. But Africa will not tolerate the killing of its kinsmen while South African businesses flourish comfortably in Kampala and beyond. The choice is South Africa’s to make, and the consequences will follow accordingly.
The writer is the Assistant Resident City Commissioner for Nyendo-Mukungwe.
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