Walk into Kikuubo any morning and you’ll see business in its rawest form pallets of rice and sugar stacked high, lorries reversing with endless hooting, shopkeepers counting bundles of cash, and hawkers running after buyers with their sing-song shouts.
Kikuubo is not just a trading street it’s the heartbeat of Kampala’s cash cows.
Now picture Sarah, a shop owner who has worked her way up from a single stall to three thriving wholesale outlets.
Every day, she turns her stock over quickly, and cash flows like a river.
But instead of ploughing back her profits into her business, Sarah decides to chase her “dream.” She invests heavily in a boutique coffee shop in Kololo because she likes the smell of cappuccino and the vibe of trendy cafés.
Months later, the shop is bleeding. Rent is high, customers are few, and the staff outnumber the clients on some days. Sarah’s Kikuubo empire the cash cow now works overtime to feed the Kololo coffee shop the dog.
This story is more common than we admit. A boda guy with a good, steady stage invests all his savings into a music studio because he loves hanging around artistes.
A bank employee with a stable salary puts her SACCO loan into poultry farming because everyone says “enkoko zifuna kilalu” chickens are madly profitable. Six months later, she’s back in the HR office asking for a salary advance to keep the chicken project alive.
It’s not that side ventures are bad. The problem is when profitable, stable ventures are starved to death while we pour money into emotional hobbies. Many of these “dogs” are started not on the back of data, research, or even sound business sense, but simply because “I love it” or “I have always wanted to own one.”
Emotions are powerful in business, but they can also be expensive.
Love for a hobby does not guarantee cash flow.
Passion is important, yes but passion doesn’t pay rent, suppliers, or salaries.
In Uganda, SMEs are the backbone of our economy, employing over 70% of the population. But they’re fragile.
Many collapse not because of lack of opportunity, but because owners divert resources into vanity projects.
I met James, a gentleman in Nansana, who runs a welding workshop.
His cash flow is excellent he supplies metal doors and gates to estates mushrooming in Wakiso.
But James decided to put half his profits into a mobile money kiosk run by his nephew.
He wanted to “support family” and thought mobile money is always profitable.
Two months later, the kiosk was robbed, and the nephew quit.
Meanwhile, James’ workshop struggled to pay suppliers because the money that should have been buying steel was tied up in a dead project.
Every time you pull money from a profitable cow to feed a hungry dog, you weaken your foundation.
It’s like drawing blood from a healthy child to transfuse into a sick puppy. The child might survive, but they’ll never thrive again.
In business terms, the “cash cow” is the venture that generates steady, reliable profits with minimal risk.
It might not be flashy, but it pays the bills. Think: a taxi on the Kampala–Entebbe road, a retail pharmacy in Ntinda, a wholesaler in Kikuubo, a boda stage in Nakawa.
The “dog,” on the other hand, is the venture that eats more than it produces. It’s that hobby farm you visit once a month, the luxury boutique with no customers, the software app that has only three downloads, the salon you opened “for prestige.”
Successful entrepreneurs understand this principle deeply: never starve your cow to feed your dog. Instead, if you must feed the dog, let it survive on scraps—money you can afford to lose.
Even employees face this dilemma. I know of a young banker who earns a steady salary of Shs 3 million per month.
Instead of saving or investing prudently, she took her entire annual bonus to open a bakery “because baking is my passion.” Today, she spends her lunch breaks worrying about flour prices and electricity bills, while her salary is drained to keep the bakery alive.
For employees, your salary is your cow. Protect it. Use it to build assets that multiply wealth real estate, government securities, unit trusts, or even expanding skills that guarantee promotions.
Don’t let it die because you’re obsessed with a dog that cannot bark, let alone hunt.
For entrepreneurs, your business is your cow. Guard its cash flows like a mother hen guards her chicks.
Invest in systems, stock, marketing, and staff before you ever think of diverting profits to a side project.
Ugandans are hustlers by nature we want to try everything. But discipline is the missing ingredient. Not every idea that excites you deserves your money. Some should remain hobbies, some can be side hustles, but very few deserve to be fed by your main income stream.
So before you shift money from your shop, your salary, or your boda stage to chase a shiny new project, ask yourself: Is this truly a business or just a hobby? Do I have the data to prove it can generate cash flow? Can it sustain itself without draining my cow?
If the answers are shaky, don’t do it.
Love your cow. Grow your cow. Protect your cow.
In business, emotions without discipline are like fuel without brakes you’ll burn out fast. Uganda needs more entrepreneurs and workers who treat their cash cows with respect, not as sacrificial lambs for hungry dogs.
So to every shopkeeper in Kikuubo, every banker in Nakasero, every boda guy in Kisenyi, and every farmer in Luwero remember this: if you keep feeding the dog, one day, both the cow and the dog will die. But if you guard the cow, it will not only keep giving you milk, it will produce calves that guarantee your future.
Don’t kill your cow to feed your dog.
The Author is the President, Money Lenders Association of Uganda, CEO & Founder, Jonakee Holdings Limited
