November 8th, 2023
It was time
to get out of Kampala as I’m not a big city person, not even really a small
city person. I grabbed a boda boda
(motorcycle taxi) and asked to be taken to the Old Taxi Stand. The guy seemed unsure, which seemed weird as
this was the major transportation hub for the matatus, the taxi vans which are
the primary mode of transportation for most Ugandans. He asked someone sitting outside a small
shop, got instructions in Luganda, the local language, and then we were off.
We arrived
at what seemed to be a busy shopping and financial district and he slowed down
by the side of the road where there were a half dozen matatus, but this wasn’t
what I expected. Still, there was one
going to Jinja. I inquired the price
which was fair, and it would be leaving in 15 minutes. The driver told me to sit in the front seat
but unfortunately there was only one other person in the van and I knew that
they wouldn’t leave until it was full. I
waited almost 20 minutes and the vehicle was only half full…screw it. I hopped out and grabbed another boda boda,
even though the Old Taxi Stand only looked to be 500 meters away. I’m glad I did. It was a zoo of people, vehicles and
motorbikes. I probably took about 7-8
minutes to get to the taxi stand.
The crazy Old Taxi Stand:
I found a
matatu for Jinja and it was already pretty full so I was hopeful that it would
leave soon. Once again, I lucked out and
was told to sit in the front seat with my two backpacks. A tall man asked if he could join me in the
front and surprisingly, he offered to take the middle seat when he saw my bags
at my feet. His name was Mohammed, and
he was a 69 year old civil engineer from Jinja and a nice fellow. I thought we were full as we started to pull
out of our parking stall, only to have a ¾ size bus get in the way. Then there was some serious jockeying of
vehicles to allow the bus to get into its parking space. It reminded me of a video game I’ve seen
where you’re trying to get a specific vehicle out of a parking lot and you have
to figure out which sequence of moving vehicles here and there which will allow
you to succeed.
After
cramming a few more people in the van, we started the slow process of exiting
the mad parking lot. We then pulled into
a gas station, got some gas and then had to get some air put into the
tires. I kinda assumed the driver would
take care of this ahead of time…but this is part of the joy of visiting other
countries around the world. We slowly
moved through the traffic and passed by the spot where the second boda boda had
dropped me off, about an hour later.
Getting out
of Kampala took about an hour. Our
driver loved his car horn…which is a pet peeve of mine after spending four
years in India. Ugandans don’t use their
horn nearly as much as Indians, but this guy was starting to bug me. As I mentioned in an earlier post, there seem
to be few rules of the road here. Our
driver was passing slow vehicles by using the oncoming lanes. When that didn’t work, he’d cruise along the
shoulder of the road which is typically used by the motorbikes. To him, the single lane road was a three lane
highway! I thought his luck had run out
as he was using the oncoming lane to pass vehicle after vehicle, most of which
were big trucks, and then a lady traffic cop appeared and she motioned him to
pull over. “Busted” I thought. Great, that’s going to delay us.
I found a
matatu for Jinja and it was already pretty full so I was hopeful that it would
leave soon. Once again, I lucked out and
was told to sit in the front seat with my two backpacks. A tall man asked if he could join me in the
front and surprisingly, he offered to take the middle seat when he saw my bags
at my feet. His name was Mohammed, and
he was a 69 year old civil engineer from Jinja and a nice fellow. I thought we were full as we started to pull
out of our parking stall, only to have a ¾ size bus get in the way. Then there was some serious jockeying of
vehicles to allow the bus to get into its parking space. It reminded me of a video game I’ve seen
where you’re trying to get a specific vehicle out of a parking lot and you have
to figure out which sequence of moving vehicles here and there which will allow
you to succeed.
After
cramming a few more people in the van, we started the slow process of exiting
the mad parking lot. We then pulled into
a gas station, got some gas and then had to get some air put into the
tires. I kinda assumed the driver would
take care of this ahead of time…but this is part of the joy of visiting other
countries around the world. We slowly
moved through the traffic and passed by the spot where the second boda boda had
dropped me off, about an hour later.
Getting out
of Kampala took about an hour. Our
driver loved his car horn…which is a pet peeve of mine after spending four
years in India. Ugandans don’t use their
horn nearly as much as Indians, but this guy was starting to bug me. As I mentioned in an earlier post, there seem
to be few rules of the road here. Our
driver was passing slow vehicles by using the oncoming lanes. When that didn’t work, he’d cruise along the
shoulder of the road which is typically used by the motorbikes. To him, the single lane road was a three lane
highway! I thought his luck had run out
as he was using the oncoming lane to pass vehicle after vehicle, most of which
were big trucks, and then a lady traffic cop appeared and she motioned him to
pull over. “Busted” I thought. Great, that’s going to delay us.
The driver
exited the vehicle and chatted with the policewoman in Luganda before sitting
back in the van. A few minutes later, he
got out and talked to her again. I
quietly inquired with Mohammed what was going on, wondering if we were waiting
for more police to show up, but no, it was just that it there was alternating
one lane traffic due to some construction going on. Soon after, we were yet again on our way. Mohammed did mention to me that this was the
one and only way to head east out of Kampala…yikes. The traffic was bad enough as it was, and it
was only 1 pm on a weekday.
There are a
few things to know about matatus. First
off, they stop a lot. It may be someone
getting out, or someone squeezing in, even if you think there is no more room
inside. Occasionally they stop and the
van is immediately surrounded by vendors selling everything from cold drinks,
biscuits, chapatis, various meats on a stick, sunglasses, headphones or even
watches. Who buys a random watch while
sitting in a taxi?
As we
finally approached Jinja, we had to cross the Nile on a fancy new bridge that
was only built 3 years ago and was funded by the Chinese. I pulled out my phone to be ready to take
pictures and the driver spoke to Mohammed who then told me in English that I
shouldn’t take photos. Strangely, a
video would be okay as long as I was discrete with the phone. This didn’t make sense to me. They told me to wait until we passed some
police on the side of the road and then it was okay for me to take a
video. Weird.
I was
dropped off at a major roundabout just after the bridge, and before the matatu
headed south into Jinja. I was staying
at Nile River Explorers which was located north, along the Nile. I grabbed a boda boda to take me the 7
kilometers to my accommodation. It was a
dirt road and super bumpy. The worst
section was the last 500 meters before arriving at my destination and it was a
serious washboard. This was what is
locally known as a free “African massage”!
At the reception,
I was greeted by a friendly guy named Emmanuel and he showed me to my
tent. It was quite the serious tent with
two beds inside and tall enough to stand upright in. It was musty when he first opened it up but
once I got some cross ventilation going by unzipping the windows, it was quite
a cozy little pad. I settled in and then
headed up to the restaurant/bar area that had a great view of the Nile. I knew that I was going to enjoy my four
nights here.
My abode for the next four days:
The next
day I decided to head into Jinja. I
realized that there was no need for the fleece sweater, vest and pants that I
had brought with me, and it made sense to mail them back to my aunt in
England. The boda boda took me to the
sleepy post office. There were two nice
ladies behind the counter, and I asked them where I could buy a cardboard box
to ship the clothing. One of them looked
around for a suitable box and found a pretty sad looking box that was a bit
big, but it could work. The other lady stated
that I would need to buy some packing tape, even though there was a roll on the
counter near her. I asked where, and
strangely they didn’t seem to know. ”Perhaps
at the market down the road.” Luckily, I
found some in a supermarket only about 4 blocks away and by the time I
returned, one of the ladies had found a better box to ship the clothes in.
Heading into Jinja:
Afterwards,
I had hoped to see the “Source of the Nile”, where the river starts to flow
from Lake Victoria, the largest lake in Africa.
Unfortunately my attempt was thwarted by a multi-day African music
festival known as Nyege Nyege, which means “an uncontrollable urge to dance”,
although another meaning is “horny”…seems appropriate. The road to a statue of Mahatma Gandhi on the
shores of the Nile and the start of the Nile were blocked. Oh well, what to do.
I grabbed
another boda boda and the skies threatened to dump some serious rain. We made it to the main roundabout before it
started to downpour and there was a flurry of boda bodas, including mine, darting
into an open door of a car repair garage.
There must have been 20-30 motorbikes attempting to hide from the
rain. We hung out there for 20 minutes
while watching some mechanics disassemble the front wheel assembly of one car
and align another.
The rain
finally tapered off and a new boda boda driver, one headed in my direction,
expertly drove along the slick muddy roads and through some pretty serious
puddles/lakes on the road.
Everyone hiding from the rain in the garage:
Tomorrow will be a more exciting day, time to raft the Nile!
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