In football circles, certain statements carry weight not because they are correct, but because of who makes them. One such statement that has echoed repeatedly in Uganda’s football space, often attributed to Hon. Moses Magogo, is that “if you think you are in refereeing for money, then you are in the wrong place. Refereeing is not a profession, it is a hobby.” It may sound harmless, even philosophical suggesting that passion should be the driving force. But when examined against the lived reality of referees in Uganda, it reveals a deep and painful disconnect between leadership perception and the truth on the ground.
Because the truth is simple and uncomfortable: refereeing is one of the most demanding, underappreciated, and structurally unsupported roles in our game.
Behind every Uganda Premier League match, every Big-League fixture, every regional and other competitions that fans enjoy, there is a referee who has spent days, weeks, and months preparing not casually, but with the discipline of a professional athlete. A referee’s routine is not built on convenience. It is built on sacrifice. Waking up at 7 a.m., training from 9 a.m. to midday, maintaining strict fitness levels to match players who are paid millions, and then going for recovery sessions, such as swimming, massage, or physiotherapy, costing between UGX 25,000 and 70,000. Add daily gym sessions ranging from UGX 10,000 to 30,000, and you begin to understand that this “hobby” is financially demanding before a whistle is even blown.
Even access to training grounds is not guaranteed. Many referees have to facilitate their own training spaces, sometimes negotiating with caretakers just to use a pitch. This is not the profile of someone casually passing time; it is the life of someone deeply invested in a craft that demands excellence but offers little structural support.
The cost of simply being equipped is another burden. A beginner referee kit costs around UGX 650,000. For those aiming at elite or FIFA standards, the investment rises to approximately UGX 2.5 million Uganda shillings, covering multiple jerseys, boots, whistles, communication tools, and other essentials. This excludes specialized equipment like beep flags. And yet, these are personal investments in a system that does not guarantee returns.
What makes it more difficult is that most referees in Uganda are not financially sustained by the game. Out of ten referees, you may find only two with stable, well-paying jobs, perhaps a medical doctor like the retired Ali Sabila, Richard Kimbowa, or Alex Muhabi, or a civil servant like the current FRSC boss Brian Miiro Nsubuga, or someone employed by a multinational company like retired FIFA referee Denis Batte. The rest are teachers, part-time workers, or individuals surviving on irregular allowances from match payments that are often delayed. Some even turn to officiating in local tournaments like “mbuzi games”, non-league competitions and friendly matches where payment is instant, though the risks are significantly higher.
Balancing work and refereeing is not just difficult; it is unsustainable. Match appointments can come midweek or in distant districts, forcing referees to choose between honouring the game or keeping their jobs. Many have received warning letters from employers for absenteeism or late reporting. Some have lost their jobs entirely. Yet declining an appointment is equally risky; it may mean being sidelined in future selections. In such a system, referees are constantly walking a tight rope between survival and service.
Despite these sacrifices, there is no structured safety net. Referees operate without formal contracts, some without medical insurance, and without guaranteed or timely payment. When injuries occur and they do frequently, the burden falls entirely on the individual. There are referees who have spent millions treating torn muscles sustained during Uganda Premier League matches and other FUFA-organised competitions. Others have battled knee injuries, ankle damage, and long-term physical strain all acquired in the line of duty, just like the players they officiate, but without the same care or protection and no retirement plans.
And yet, the expectations remain extremely high. A referee is in charge of a match involving thousands of fans, millions of shillings, and the emotions of entire communities. One decision can define a game, a season, or even careers. But how do you expect perfection from someone operating in an imperfect and unsupported system?
This is where the real danger of the “refereeing is a hobby” narrative lies. It subtly lowers the perceived value of the role. It sends a message, intentional or not, that referees are not central to the professional structure of football. And when individuals feel undervalued in a system that depends on them, performance inevitably suffers not out of negligence, but due to fatigue, pressure, and lack of institutional backing.
It is therefore not surprising that errors and controversies have become more visible, especially in the 2025/2026 season. Accountability is important, yes, but it cannot exist in isolation. You cannot demand excellence without providing the conditions that support it.
Ironically, while referees are told the game is a hobby, the same football ecosystem operates with fully employed secretariat staff who earn salaries, allowances, medical insurance, and other benefits. This raises a critical question: if refereeing is truly a hobby, why isn’t the secretariat also run on the same terms? Why are referees expected to serve “when called” and be paid “when possible,” while others operate under structured, professional conditions?
It creates a painful comparison, one where, in practical terms, a driver in Ugandan football may be more valued than a referee who controls a match attended by over 3,000 fans. That reality is not just ironic, it is deeply concerning.
Globally, the narrative is different. FIFA President Gianni Infantino has emphasized that referees are essential to football’s integrity and future, even stating that they are “team number one.” Such statements uplift referees, making them feel part of the game rather than outsiders within it. In Uganda, however, referees are often only called upon when receiving seasonal badges or when being cautioned after a series of complaints. Rarely are meetings held to build, motivate, or appreciate them when things are going right. This creates a culture of fear instead of growth.
The question then becomes unavoidable: if refereeing is truly a hobby, why does football stop without it? Matches cannot proceed. Competitions cannot maintain fairness. The entire structure collapses. Clearly, this is not a casual role; it is a foundational one.
The issue, therefore, is not just about resources; it is about mindset.
Refereeing in Uganda must be redefined not as a side activity driven solely by passion, but as a profession that requires structure, investment, and respect. Introducing contracts, ensuring timely and fair remuneration, providing medical support, and establishing accountability systems would not only improve performance but also restore dignity to the role.
Because at its core, refereeing is about responsibility. It is about fairness, integrity, and making difficult decisions under intense pressure. These are not the attributes of a hobby; they are the foundations of a profession.
Until this reality is fully acknowledged, Ugandan football will continue to struggle with the very issues it seeks to eliminate. Mistakes will persist, frustrations will grow, and the gap between expectation and reality will widen.
Referees are not asking for privilege. They are asking for recognition for a system that reflects the weight of what they carry every time they step onto the pitch.
And perhaps, it is time Uganda’s football refereeing is structured beyond just recognition
