Across Uganda, Nepal, and Botswana, wildly different crises are telling the same story: When U.S. foreign assistance gets yanked overnight, the systems built around it don’t just strain — they snap. And the people left to cope aren’t policymakers or diplomats; they’re first-time voters, scared parents, and community health workers who used to keep whole neighborhoods afloat.
In Uganda, 18-year-old Ronald Serunjoji is thrilled to vote for the first time in 2026 — he just doesn’t know there are other races on the ballot besides the presidential contest. He’s hardly alone. Years of shrinking civic space and the near-total halt of U.S.-funded voter education have left huge blinders. Radio spots, community meetings, and watchdog groups vanished after cuts that ended almost 70% of democracy, human rights, governance, and peacebuilding programs. What’s left, said David Kizito, program officer at the Ugandan chapter of Transparency International, is “a widening gap in basic knowledge of voter rights.” And when projects such as Ugandans for Peace Activity ended because of cuts that were “abrupt and unfair,” Francis Opio of the Kabalore Research and Resource Centre said entire districts lost their most trusted guides.
Nepal’s story echoes the same pattern. Families like Genmati Kahar’s are now facing malnutrition without the integrated network that once caught cases early. “Children are dying before our eyes,” warned nutrition facilitator Prithipal Teli, as health posts run out of therapeutic foods, trained staff, and even basic screening tools. “These resources, which previously saved many children from severe malnutrition, are now unavailable,” added health coordinator Shankar Bhattarai. Nearly two decades of progress — and the trust that underpinned it — are suddenly at risk. As Lila Bikram Thapa, chief of the nutrition section at Nepal’s Department of Health Services, put it: “Accepting this reality is very difficult.”