There’s a certain buzz to the sight of a trailer finally wheeling through Malaba or Busia border, dusty and triumphant like a taxi arriving late but still somehow on time. Many Ugandan traders have built entire empires on this ritual, fill out a sheaf of paperwork, pay taxes with a sigh, and sell imported goods at a comfortable markup. But let’s be honest: relying on importation as a national hustle is a bit like surviving on takeaways; convenient, yes, but you’re paying someone else to do all the real cooking.

As economist Paul Collier once quipped, “Natural resources may be a curse, but human ingenuity is a blessing.” Uganda has that ingenuity in spades, and value addition is where it shines. Instead of merely shipping in finished goods and donating jobs to factories abroad, why not bring the factory home? The payoff isn’t just patriotic pride; it’s shillings and pure sense.

Consider coffee. Uganda is Africa’s largest coffee exporter, yet 80% of it goes out as raw red beans. When Italians roast, grind, package and sell that same coffee for ten times the price, we clap from afar and buy their cappuccino. It’s like growing matooke only to pay someone else to peel and steam it for you expensively.

The same story echoes in cotton, where we grow the lint, export them raw, and then import back fancy shirts that cost more than a suit. Or in fruits, how many times have you seen Ugandan mangoes leave in crates only to return as expensive juice boxes? Value addition is not an MBA buzzword; it’s the difference between pocket change and real prosperity.

Some traders argue that importing finished goods “softens” their tax burden, no need to register factories or wrestle with excise duty. True, but it also means Uganda collects most of its taxes at the border (where URA officers know your TIN number by heart) while we miss the bigger prize: ongoing income tax from local processing plants and thousands of jobs that generate PAYE.

Here’s the funny bit: government actually rewards value addition. The Uganda Investment Authority dangles juicy incentives like, the 10-year tax holidays for export-oriented manufacturers, VAT deferments on plant and machinery, and duty exemptions on raw materials. As one local entrepreneur joked, “It’s the only party where the host keeps handing you dessert if you promise to stay in the kitchen.”

Add to that the Uganda Development Bank’s affordable credit lines for agro-processing and you start to see a trend: policy makers are basically waving a giant neon sign that says “PLEASE PROCESS LOCALLY.” They know every litre of Ugandan milk turned into powdered milk here saves forex and hires our own youth instead of someone else’s.

And let’s not forget the tax breaks for exporters of manufactured goods under the East African Community Common External Tariff. A clever investor can enjoy lower duty on imported inputs and near-zero duty when selling processed goods across the region. In other words, URA isn’t the villain in this movie; it’s the matchmaker.

So how does an importer pivot from container king to value-addition hero? Step one: follow the product back to its raw form. If you’re importing tomato paste, there’s a good chance Uganda grows enough tomatoes to drown a wedding party. Partner with farmers in Masaka, invest in a small paste plant, and you’ve replaced Italian labels with your own.

Then, court the incentives. Visit the Uganda Investment Authority’s one; stop centre like it’s a speed date. Register for an investment licence, explore the Industrial Parks in Namanve or Mbarara, and negotiate the duty exemptions. Yes, the paperwork can feel like a never-ending Inna series, but the plot twist is worth it.

Consider hiring local talent and train them. Not only does this unlock PAYE deductions and a more skilled workforce, it also transforms your factory floor into a mini-cohort of learned friends with jokes and ideas, only without the endless bar arguments.

And then, play the long game on taxes. While you might pay corporate income tax once profitable, you can claim capital allowances on plant and machinery, offset losses against future profits, and enjoy lower effective rates than you ever would shipping in fully taxed imports. It’s a classic “soften the taxman” move, legally and with the URA’s blessing.

A wise Luganda saying goes, “Enkoko ekima amazzi, tegyira mu nsuwa”, translated as the chicken that fetches you water should not be cooked. Raw exports may fetch a quick dollar, but the real water of development is in processing. Kill that chance and you starve your own future.

Of course, value addition isn’t a magic. Machines need maintenance, markets can wobble, and competitors will copy your ideas. But unlike the one-off thrill of clearing a container, a well-run processing plant builds lasting equity, creates jobs and keeps more of the value, and the taxes, circulating right here at home.

In a nutshell, next time you’re tempted to celebrate a container release with a loud vuvuzela, pause and imagine a different fanfare: the chanting sound of Ugandan machinery, the team of local workers earning wages, the aroma of coffee roasted in Bugisu, the gleam of cotton spin in Lira. That sound isn’t just industry; it’s the music of a country finally adding value to itself. “Don’t just import the cake, own the bakery.” That’s not just good economics; it’s the best punchline Uganda’s development story shall write.

The writer is the General Manager Commercial Banking at Centenary bank