Written By | Anonymous
Image imagine by META Ai
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Yesterday evening, I called a family meeting because my mother is determined to run us broke. A family meeting.
I (28) currently live with my mom (45), dad (57), my sister (25), and our youngest sister (23). It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do—but very necessary. So let me give you all a little context.
My mother has had financial troubles since 2013. I was a teenager back then and was always excluded from topics my parents felt were too much for me to handle. My mom never received any education beyond Senior Four, and naturally, she gravitated toward self-employment. At the time, she sold second-hand clothes—a hustle she maintained for about nine years. If you know anyone who sells bales (especially seasoned traders), they’ll tell you how profitable it can be if you’re disciplined. Some of those people are literally building mansions.
I don’t know exactly what went wrong, but that wasn’t the case for her. She accumulated loan upon loan—most of which my father had no idea about.
Of course, like any other man, he was upset. At the end of the day, debt collectors come knocking. But my dad truly loves her because—despite everything—he cleared all her loans. So much so that in 2016, he even opened a business for her.
A hardware store. We’re talking about six figures in capital, rent for several months, and even a clean pickup truck for deliveries. I was fresh out of high school at the time and became actively involved in running the business. It was exciting. But she always kept me at arm’s length—never really teaching me the nitty-gritty of balancing books or managing finances.
And I never questioned her. I mean, it’s your business—run it however you please.
When COVID hit and businesses were collapsing left, right, and center, I watched my parents struggle to stay afloat. We had just moved to an affluent neighborhood in Kampala, into a house that still needed some finishing touches.
Then, in a bid to save her business, my mother turned to loans again.
She would take out one loan, service it, and when she couldn’t, she would take out another to clear the previous one.
Crazy, I know. It got to a point where she started using me as a guarantor for some of these loans. I’d be wrong to claim total ignorance, but at the same time, I had no idea how deep things had gotten. Absolutely no one did.
When she asked me to guarantee a third loan, I questioned it because, by then, I was involved in the business—and the math wasn’t adding up. But my mom? She was not about to explain herself to someone she gave birth to and raised in the late ’90s. That was never going to happen.
So she continued doing what she does best.
Long story short, she closed the hardware shop in December 2022 after attempting suicide. And when everything came crashing down, the truth finally came out—because debt collectors must collect.
My dad eventually found out everything. Why? Because my mom had used items in our new family home as collateral—and debt collectors were ready to auction them off.
What followed became a legal battle, which my dad only won in November 2024. But the loans? They’re still there. They have to be paid.
Now, you might be wondering why I called the meeting at this point—please bear with me.
After closing the hardware and essentially going into hiding (in her own house, by the way), my mom took a break from 2023 through early 2025. She stayed home—because where else could she go?
My dad, once again, carried the burden. He entered agreements with various moneylenders. We’re talking millions at this point.
By the end of 2024, my mother wanted to work again—as anyone naturally would. She wanted to earn a living. This is despite my dad having taken care of all our bills for years. Where the income was coming from? Only God knows.
My dad, understandably, was frustrated. His own businesses were struggling, and now there was even less to go around for the family. He gently asked her to wait another year or two—to rest and reset before making a comeback.
Did she listen? No.
In March 2025, after receiving financial support from her sisters, she started again—this time selling cosmetics.
Despite everything, I was genuinely happy for her. I’ve had my own struggles since graduating in 2022 and only secured a job about a year ago.
I’m grateful, and I’d like to think I’m fairly smart. My pay isn’t great, but it’s decent enough to support myself. I’ve been planning to move out, maybe pursue my master’s degree—typical life goals.
Still, I’ve been supporting her here and there—UGX 100,000 for marketing, UGX 200,000 for something else. Black tax, essentially.
Then last week, I got a call from my maternal aunt: my mom had taken another loan—to boost her business—but had already failed to meet the payment plan.
My aunt reached out to me for help. I reluctantly agreed—mainly because my mom hadn’t told me anything about it.
I paid the first installment and waited for her to bring it up.
She never did.
Despite us living in the same house.
That’s when I decided to call the family meeting.
Before you judge me for escalating things, understand this: this problem has been building for years. I’m only now realizing the weight my dad has been carrying.
He doesn’t even “live” with us anymore—he’s more like a visitor who comes to shower and switch cars when necessary. And honestly, I understand why.
During the meeting, I wanted to find out if there’s something deeper going on—something beyond just poor financial decisions.
My dad opened up. Really opened up. And that only reinforced the need for this conversation.
Looking at everything, he has every reason to leave—but he stays. And that’s what I’m holding onto.
The meeting itself was surprisingly calm—except for my mom.
She immediately became defensive. She thought we were attacking her, and honestly, I understand why. But despite our efforts to create a safe space and understand what’s going on, she took everything personally.
We hit a wall.
She played the victim, cried, deflected, and avoided accountability. At the core of it all, she refused to even explain the loan—the same loan I’m currently paying.
Maybe I could have handled it differently—but I believe this was necessary.
I could have spoken to her privately, but I chose not to. I know she would have manipulated the situation. She’s my mother, after all.
If we are ever going to heal as a family, we need these uncomfortable conversations.
But here’s where I stand now: I’m glad we are finally waking up as a family. I’m grateful my dad has trusted me to help handle this—even though it’s overwhelming.
All I want, honestly, is a simple life—smoke weed, shout “GUMITE,” and take cute pictures. But life has other plans. I’ve decided I will not continue paying off that loan. At this point, I’d be disrespecting myself.
So now I ask:
Am I being a bad child—or is this the only way to save my family?
Have you ever had to set hard boundaries with a parent?
Story told by Social Media User
