There can be many words used to describe traveling in Uganda
– chaotic, packed, boring, sweaty, amazing, hysterical, animal-ridden,
fascinating, interminable, thought-provoking, reflective, beautiful – but short
is never one of them. Although the country is about the size of Oregon , the condition of
the roads and people-to-vehicles ratio ensure that any journey you want to
embark upon is going to take up a sizable chunk of your day. Therefore, you must
prepare accordingly.
The morning of a travel day, we have to be very careful to only use as much water as
is required to brush our teeth. Pit stops on public transportation are rare and
always unpredictable, and it’s not uncommon to take a five hour bus ride
without ever getting a chance to go to the bathroom. Even though I’m travelling
outside the village, as a woman, I should still dress in a long skirt. A bathroom
break does not always guarantee a restroom, and it’s a lot easier and much less
indecent to go in the bushes wearing a skirt rather than jeans. We also have to
make sure that you have small bills, for while there are always people selling
food (and chickens and headphones and toilet paper and newspapers and solar
chargers and kitchenware and geese) through the bus windows, the bus driver
will not necessarily wait until everyone gets their change. After all, he has a
schedule to keep and the hawker should be fast enough to keep running alongside
until he can throw his customer’s change back through the window.
To get to the capital, Kris and I have to leave around 7:30
a.m. to catch a matatu (mini-bus) at our local stage to the nearest town, about
an hour and a half away.It is quite the fashion in Uganda
(Taken by Lindsay Carrera)
When we reach town, we must then either wait at the Post
Office for the Post Bus, which delivers both people and mail, or head to the
bus park to find another bus. Whether you are Ugandan or foreign, whenever you
enter the bus park you are immediately swarmed by drivers and conductors
shouting and pulling at you. Their determination is remarkable and they will
not be swayed; to them, even your choice of destination is negotiable.
Conductor: “Kabale!
Kabale! Where are you going?”
Me: “Kampala
Conductor: “No,
Kabale! You come.”
Me: “No thanks.”
Conductor: “You come
to Kabale!”
Me: ::shakes head::
Conductor: “Why not
Kabale?”
Me: “Oh, good point!
Let’s go!”
Once you do convince them that you are pretty set on going
to Kampala ,
then you have to continue to be very firm on what bus line you want to take.
When Andrea came to visit, we were mobbed by representatives from both the Link
Bus and Global, shouting at us and at each other and at that goat over in the
corner about how their buses were better. As we walked through the park being
buffeted by conductors on both sides, the crowd grew as I kept firmly stating
that we were taking Global. When we finally maneuvered around the Link people
and boarded the Global bus, the entire bus burst into applause. While you don’t
get mauled taking the bus in the U.S. , I also bet you’ve never been
greeting by a wave of cheering while you find your seat either.
For any driver or conductor looking for fares here, nothing
is impossible. “Make it work” should be Uganda ’s official slogan. You have
a coffin you need to transport? The boda (motorcycle taxi) guy can strap it
behind him and deliver it to your house! 9 people already crammed into a
5-person car when it pulls over for a mother and her child? The driver will
share his seat, and remember, babies are floaters! You want to ride in this
minibus but you have five suitcases and half a dozen live chickens? The
suitcases can go on top of the bus, under people’s seats, and on the front
dash. The chickens can go anywhere – just tie up their feet and distribute them
on people’s laps! You want to get on this bus to Kampala but you have your motorcycle with
you? Don’t worry – we can totally fit it under the bus.
Once we’re actually on the bus, and all luggage, chickens, motorcycles, and various foodstuffs have been stowed away, it’s a six-hour ride with one stop for a bathroom break - if we’re lucky. TVs on the bus are rare, but there is generally always entertainment, whether it’s a snake-oil salesman selling deworming medication or a man who hops on the bus for awhile to play a traditional instrument and sing songs that range from mocking to Amazing Grace.
Street signs and posted notices are also a good source of
entertainment during a long day of travel. Obama Washing Bay, Hotel B+, and Sande’s
Fresh Diary are some of my favorites.
And don’t forget the monkeys!
And don’t forget the monkeys!
"Please, there is no parking here" - most polite sign ever!
No nosy behavior here, no ma'am.
Going home, it’s the same thing all over again.
Travel is always an adventure here, but also always
exhausting. When we finally arrive home from a hectic trip to the capital and
back, lugging our backpacks and bags of groceries we picked up along the way,
it’s still not quite over. There is one custom left to observe. After a long
time away, or a just a quick run to the banana stand, the always-smiling gatekeeper
at the college never fails to engage us in the Ugandan tradition of greeting in
the local language. Translated into English, it has the faint edge of the
maniacal in it…
Gatekeeper: You’ve returned!
Us: Yes.
Gatekeeper: You’ve returned well?
Us: Yes.
Gatekeeper: You’re back!
Us: We’re back.
Gatekeeper: You’re back?
Us: Yes.
Gatekeeper: Did you spend your day well?
Us: Yes.
Gatekeeper: How did you spend your day?
Us: We spent it well.
Gatekeeper: Thank you!
Us: OK, thank you too.
Gatekeeper: OK, OK, spend the night well.
Us: Yes, OK, OK.
It’s long, it’s repetitive, it’s confusing, and it’s
incredibly welcoming and wonderful to come home to. I wouldn’t have it any
other way (most days, at least).
Smiling in photos is not a Ugandan custom. He's pretty close though!
“Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of
everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that
the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very
stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning
of art.” – Freya Stark
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