Uganda: How Unsafe Food Became Normal in Uganda

The young man making your morning Rolex barely notices the cloth anymore. Darkened by grease, flour, charcoal dust, and countless washes and rinses, it hangs from the side of the stall like an extension of his hand.

Every few minutes, he reaches for it; wiping his fingers and cleaning the sizzling hot frying pan surface where the chapati is rolled before serving the next customer. Around him, customers wait patiently for their breakfast "escort". At a nearby stall, a young woman prepares potato chips and packs the food in thin disposable polythene bags locally known as kaveera. Customers do not complain. They don't ask questions. The Rolex and chips are hot, affordable and filling.

A few kilometres away, a three-wheeled Tuk-tuk loaded with vegetables crawls through Kampala traffic on its way to the market. Seated among the cabbages, bunches of greens and baskets of tomatoes and eggplants are women traders, perched on the very produce that will later be sold as fresh food to hundreds of consumers.

Elsewhere, in markets across the country, vegetables are occasionally sprinkled with water to keep them looking fresh. Customers rarely ask where the water came from. In restaurants, diners order lunch without seeing the kitchens where it is prepared. In schools, children eat meals whose preservation methods few parents ever inquire about. For most Ugandans, these scenes are not remarkable. They are ordinary, and according to a growing coalition of food safety advocates in Uganda, that ordinariness is precisely what makes them dangerous.

As Uganda marked World Food Safety Day this year on June 7, civil society organisations, public health advocates, consumer rights groups and food systems experts delivered a stark warning, noting that unsafe food practices have become so deeply embedded in daily life that many people no longer recognise them as risks. The result, the advocates say, is a silent crisis unfolding across the country's food system; from farms and fisheries to markets, kitchens and dining tables.

According to a policy brief shared by the Food Rights Alliance, about 1.3 million Ugandans suffer food-borne illnesses every year, accounting for approximately 14% of diseases treated nationally. Contaminated fresh produce alone contributes more than 60% of recorded food-borne illnesses, while roughly three out of every ten illnesses treated in Uganda's health facilities are linked to contaminated food.

Yet unlike cholera outbreaks, Ebola epidemics or other public health emergencies that trigger national alarm, food contamination rarely announces itself dramatically. Instead, it often appears as a stomach ache, diarrhoea, vomiting, abdominal pain or a persistent illness whose source is never fully understood.

For that reason, many experts believe Uganda's food safety challenge remains largely invisible. "It has become normal," says Agnes Kirabo, the Executive Director of Food Rights Alliance, a non-profit that advocates for the right and access to food in Uganda. That normalization, she argues, may be one of the biggest threats facing consumers today.

A crisis hiding in plain sight

Uganda prides itself on being an agricultural country. Politicians routinely describe it as the food basket of East Africa. Fertile soils, favourable weather conditions and a predominantly agricultural population have long supported that image. Markets overflow with fruits and vegetables. Drive out of Uganda's capital in any direction along the highways; you will see stalls displayed with piles of fresh produce. Food remains one of the country's greatest economic and cultural assets.

But behind this abundance lies a less comfortable reality. Food safety advocates argue that consumers are increasingly getting exposed to contaminants they cannot see, smell or taste. These include aflatoxins in staple foods like maize, groundnuts and cassava; excessive pesticide residues on vegetables and fruits, antibiotic residues in poultry products; contaminated water used during food production and preparation; unsafe food additives; poor storage conditions; and inadequate hygiene practices.

According to Kirabo, many Ugandans unknowingly encounter these hazards every day. "Food poisoning has become so common that many people now treat it as normal," she says. The implications extend far beyond occasional stomach upsets. Unsafe food contributes to illness, malnutrition, rising healthcare costs, lost household income and reduced productivity, she said.

The burden falls most heavily on children, pregnant women, older persons and people with weakened immune systems. More fundamentally, Kirabo argues, it raises questions about the right to food itself. "A right to food is meaningless when the food available to families can make them sick," she says. "Every consumer has a right to food that is nutritious, affordable and safe."

Risks begin long before food reaches the market

The story of unsafe food often begins far from urban restaurants and roadside food stalls. It starts on farms. Across Uganda, farmers increasingly depend on pesticides and other agricultural chemicals to protect crops from pests and disease. While these products play an important role in agricultural production, experts say misuse and overuse have become major concerns.

Betty Aguti, the Policy and Advocacy Specialist at Caritas-Uganda, believes many discussions around pesticide misuse fail to acknowledge a crucial reality; that most farmers have never received adequate training on safe chemical use. "We often blame farmers for scattering pesticides everywhere," she says. "But who has gone to these farmers and taught them what they are supposed to do?" Aguti asked.

According to Aguti, weak agricultural extension services continue to leave many rural communities without access to basic information about banned chemicals, proper pesticide application and food contamination risks.

The consequences can be seen across agricultural value chains. "In villages, people know chemicals because they work," she says. "They know a product kills pests effectively. What many don't know are the long-term consequences."

Civil society organisations estimate that Uganda loses approximately US$60 million annually in export earnings because of pesticide residue violations and failure to meet food safety standards in international markets. But those losses tell only part of the story. What is rejected abroad is often consumed at home.

The food basket paradox

Few observations capture Uganda's food safety dilemma more starkly than the paradox identified by Jonathan Lubega, a policy analyst at the the Southern and Eastern Africa Trade Information and Negotiations Institute (SEATINI), a Kampala-based trade policy think tank.

He says Uganda presents itself as the food basket of the region, yet neighbouring countries have increasingly questioned the safety of some products crossing their borders. In 2023, concerns over aflatoxin contamination contributed to restrictions on Ugandan maize entering regional markets. Kenya and South Sudan have periodically raised concerns about the quality and safety of imported agricultural products from Uganda.

"We keep calling Uganda the food basket of the region," Lubega says, "yet our maize is being rejected because of contamination." The economic consequences have been significant. Uganda is estimated to have lost billions of shillings in export opportunities linked to food safety non-compliance.

More troubling, however, is what happens after rejection. "The worrying thing is that rejected food is rarely destroyed," Lubega says. "It comes back into local markets." In other words, food deemed unsafe elsewhere may eventually be consumed by Ugandan families. That reality transforms food safety from a trade issue into a public health issue.

The standards imposed by neighbouring countries are not intended to frustrate exporters, Lubega argues, adding that "they are there to protect consumers." The question increasingly being asked is whether Ugandan consumers deserve the same level of protection.

The invisible contaminants

One of the greatest challenges in addressing food safety is that many hazards are invisible. Consumers can easily reject visibly rotten food. What they cannot detect are contaminants hidden within otherwise healthy-looking products. Aflatoxins are among the most dangerous examples. Produced by moulds that commonly grow on crops such as maize and groundnuts, aflatoxins have been linked to liver cancer and other serious health conditions.

Food Rights Alliance estimates that Uganda records approximately 3,700 new aflatoxin-induced liver cancer cases every year, a claim The Independent couldn't independently verify. The associated economic losses may range from US$144 million to US$577 million annually, the oragnisation added. The contamination chain, the organisation said, often extends beyond crops.

Grain considered unsuitable for human consumption sometimes finds its way into animal feed. As a result, aflatoxins can move through the food system and reappear in milk, eggs, poultry and meat products, meaning that consumers who believe they have avoided contaminated grain may still encounter the same toxins indirectly. Antibiotic residues present another growing concern. Emerging evidence cited by food safety advocates suggests that a large proportion of exotic chicken consumed in Uganda may contain antibiotic residues resulting from misuse of veterinary drugs.

Health experts fear this trend could contribute to antimicrobial resistance, making common infections increasingly difficult to treat. The danger is compounded by the fact that consumers cannot identify these contaminants through ordinary observation. A chicken drumstick may look perfectly normal. So may a glass of milk. The risks remain hidden.

Unsafe habits in ordinary places

While contamination may begin on farms, it is often reinforced by everyday practices within households, schools, restaurants and markets.

Bernard Bwambale, the Head of Programmes at Consumer Education Trust (CONSENT) who also doubles as the National Coordinator of the Food Safety Coalition of Uganda, believes many food safety threats have become deeply normalised at household level. "There are many small things people ignore every day," he says. "Yet those are the very things compromising food safety."

One example is handwashing. In many homes, as a bonding tradition, family members wash their hands in the same basin before meals. The practice is widely regarded as hygienic. Yet Bwambale argues it may achieve the opposite. "If one person has contaminated hands, everyone else using that water becomes exposed," he explains.

Other risks arise from food storage practices. He mentions practices such as raw meat placed above ready-to-eat foods in refrigerators. He also points to the dirty cloths used to dry plates, or vegetables washed with contaminated water, or shared serving utensils creating opportunities for cross-contamination. None of these practices appear dramatic, yet collectively, they increase exposure to food-borne illnesses.

Bwambale is particularly concerned about the widespread reuse of cooking oil. Case studies conducted by his organization within Kampala and surrounding metropolitan areas suggest significant quantities of cooking oil are repeatedly heated and reused, generating potentially harmful compounds. Consumers, however, rarely ask how many times their food has been fried in the same oil. "People see a samosa, a chapati or chips," Bwambale says. "They do not see the process behind it."

The hidden realities of the informal food economy

What is indisputable is that Uganda's informal food sector plays a critical role in feeding millions of people every day. It also presents some of the most difficult food safety challenges. Street food remains affordable and accessible and informal vendors provide livelihoods for thousands of households. Yet regulation and monitoring often struggle to keep pace with the sector's rapid growth.

Bwambale recounts observations from monitoring exercises where vendors allegedly hid fruits and vegetables inside public latrines during enforcement operations by the Kampala Capital City Authority (KCCA) before returning them to market. He also raises concerns about milk adulteration, unsafe juice preparation and weak meat inspection systems.

In some slaughter facilities Bwambale claims animals are reportedly slaughtered in the early morning hours before veterinary inspectors arrive. Yet inspected meat stamps continue appearing on the meat products. Whether isolated or widespread, such incidents point to broader concerns about enforcement. Food safety advocates argue that many consumers simply assume food available on the market is safe. In reality, they often know very little about how that food was produced, transported, stored or prepared.

When environmental health becomes food safety

Food safety discussions often focus on farms, markets and kitchens, but Shafic Kagimu of the Food First Information and Action Network (FIAN-Uganda) argues that the conversation must go further. In the Lake Victoria island districts such as Kalangala and Buvuma, communities living near oil palm plantations have raised concerns about chemical runoff entering water bodies.

"Communities in areas with large plantations are increasingly worried about chemical runoff entering lakes and water sources," Kagimu said. "Around these plantations, people are reporting growing fish scarcity," he said during the virtual briefing on June 7.

According to Kagimu, these concerns deserve greater attention because food safety begins with healthy ecosystems. "If lakes and water sources become contaminated, the entire food chain is affected," he said.

Fish scarcity, declining aquatic health and pollution are often treated as separate environmental concerns, but Kagimu argues they are also food safety concerns. The fish people eat, the water used to wash vegetables and the ecosystems supporting food production are interconnected. Protecting consumers therefore requires protecting the natural systems upon which food production depends.

However, food safety advocates acknowledge that Uganda has not ignored these challenges entirely. For instance, the country has numerous laws, regulations, standards and institutions involved in food safety governance.

The problem, they say, is fragmentation. Responsibility is scattered across ministries, departments and agencies, creating gaps in coordination and enforcement. Meanwhile, Uganda's principal food legislation, the Food and Drugs Act, was enacted more than six decades ago, in 1959.

The advocates argue that it was written for a different era, long before concerns about antimicrobial resistance, modern food processing technologies, industrial agriculture and globalized food trade became central public policy issues. Kirabo describes the country as "standard-rich but enforcement-poor." The standards exist. The challenge is implementing them consistently.

A possible turning point?

Yet amid growing concern, there are signs that food safety is beginning to attract greater political attention. In his June 4 State of the Nation Address, President Yoweri Museveni included the proposed Food and Agriculture Regulatory Authority (FARA) Bill among 38 new laws earmarked for consideration by the newly constituted 12th Parliament.

For food safety advocates, the move represents a potentially important shift. The proposed legislation seeks to establish a single specialised authority responsible for harmonizing regulation, enforcement and quality assurance across the food and agricultural sectors. If enacted, it could help address one of the most persistent criticisms of Uganda's current system: fragmented oversight.

Civil society organisations have welcomed the proposal while urging government to move quickly. For years, advocates have argued that food safety responsibilities have been spread too thinly across institutions, weakening accountability and creating regulatory blind spots. The proposed authority may not solve every problem. But it signals growing recognition that food safety is not merely an agricultural issue. It is a public health issue, an economic issue, a trade issue, an environmental issue, and increasingly, a governance issue.

The next meal

For most Ugandans, food safety is unlikely to be top of mind when they buy the famous Rolex on their way to work or home, order lunch at a restaurant or pick vegetables from a market stall. Most people simply want a meal that is affordable and filling. Yet the advocates who convened virtually to mark this year's World Food Safety Day insist that what reaches the plate is only the final stage of a much longer journey; a journey involving farmers, traders, transporters, processors, vendors, regulators, environmental systems and consumers themselves.

The young man making the Rolex by the roadside may not think much about pesticide residues on the cabbages. The housemaid buying tomatoes, water melons or sugar canes at the market may not wonder where they were stored the night before, and the family sharing a basin to wash their hands before dinner may believe they are practising good hygiene. And that, perhaps, is the defining challenge.

Unsafe food in Uganda is not always the result of deliberate wrongdoing. More often, it is the product of habits, systems and practices that have become so familiar that few people stop to question them. For years, Uganda's food safety crisis has largely hidden in plain sight. The growing question now is whether the country is finally prepared to confront it, because if food safety advocates are right, the issue is no longer simply about what Ugandans eat. It is about whether the food system they rely upon every day is protecting their health, or quietly pushing them to an early grave.

Read the original article on Independent (Kampala).

Uganda: How Unsafe Food Became Normal in Uganda

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