By Lilian Ntege
I was attending a function, one of those gatherings where phones are constantly in use: taking photos, checking programmes and replying to messages. Somewhere between conversations and laughter, my phone battery silently dropped to zero. The screen went black.
For a moment, I stood there weighing my options. I could leave early. I could search for a charging socket. Or I could do something that felt surprisingly difficult ask someone I did not know for help. I certainly had not planned to borrow anything that evening.
As my phone went dark, I scanned the room and spotted a power bank next to a stranger’s phone a few rows ahead. Relief came before courage. I walked towards him, not randomly, but because I had already seen the solution resting beside him.
Eventually, I approached and asked if he could help me charge my phone. He hesitated briefly, then smiled and handed it over. I plugged in my phone, relieved not only because it was charging, but because the small act reminded me that borrowing still exists, even if it now feels unfamiliar.
That was not the first time. On another day, inside a busy mall, I needed to send an urgent document to a printing shop attendant so they could help me print it. Everything was ready except my internet connection. After struggling for a few minutes, I quietly asked the attendant if she could help me with their Wi-Fi. She leaned forward and discreetly shared the password, allowing me to send the file and complete the transaction.
In both moments, I was not borrowing sugar, salt or cooking oil. I was borrowing power and access, a power bank and a Wi-Fi connection. It made me realise something simple but telling: borrowing has not disappeared; it has simply changed.
Borrowing then, a shared way of living
Not long ago, borrowing was an everyday part of community life. A missing cup of sugar, cooking oil, charcoal or a saucepan was easily solved by knocking next door. In many households, doors remained open, and asking was rarely accompanied by embarrassment.
Borrowing was less about need and more about belonging. It reinforced trust, interdependence and a sense that neighbours were an extension of family.
“If you ran out of salt, you did not even have to explain yourself. You just borrowed, returned it later, and life moved on,” says Rebecca Nalugwa, a 55-year-old resident of Kyaliwajala.
Borrowing today tells a different story
Today, instead of foodstuffs or household essentials, borrowing has shifted towards technology and convenience. Phone chargers, power banks, extension cables during power cuts, Wi-Fi passwords and temporary internet hotspots are now among the most commonly borrowed items.
For many, borrowing is short-term, practical and often stripped of conversation. Items are returned quickly, sometimes without sitting down or exchanging more than a brief thank you.
“I can borrow a charger, but I would never ask for cooking oil. The charger feels temporary. Food feels personal,” says Gidean SSerwanje, a young professional in Kampala.
Convenience has changed the need to ask
Mobile money services, online deliveries and 24-hour shops have reduced the need to borrow many essentials. If sugar runs out, it can be ordered. If cash is short, airtime or mobile money can be sent instantly, without face-to-face interaction.
This convenience has changed not only habits but also emotions around borrowing. As solutions become faster and more private, asking a neighbour can feel unnecessary or even uncomfortable.
Pride, pressure and the fear of judgement
Beyond convenience, social pressure plays a role. Many people say borrowing now feels like admitting failure, especially at a time when economic hardship is widespread.
There is a growing sense that everyone is struggling, making people hesitant to add to another’s burden. Borrowing, once neutral, is increasingly weighed against pride, dignity and the fear of being judged.
In urban areas, people often live among strangers. High-rise apartments, gated compounds and frequent relocation mean neighbours may know each other only by sight. Without strong relationships, borrowing becomes limited to emergencies or avoided altogether. Trust, once built through daily interaction, now takes longer to form, if it forms at all.
What borrowing still reveals about trust
Despite these shifts, borrowing still carries meaning. People are more selective about who they ask. Close friends, relatives or neighbours with established rapport remain key.
Borrowing today may be narrower, but it still signals trust. Who we borrow from, and what we borrow, reveals how comfortable we are with vulnerability.
A quiet return to human moments
When I returned the power bank that night at the function, the exchange was brief. Still, it sparked a short conversation about power cuts, work and life in the neighbourhood. It was nothing dramatic, yet it mattered.
Borrowing today may no longer involve sugar bowls and cooking pots, but in small moments—shared chargers, borrowed Wi-Fi, or a few minutes of power, it still reminds us that community has not disappeared. It has simply learned to knock differently.
