The taxi has started. We are beginning to manoeuvre out of the park. We are a few meters moved now. And we have stopped and the engine is now down. For those who know the flow of traffic, it is always a bad sign of the jam you will encounter when it begins right in the park.
For starters, this is the Old Taxi Park located just at the centre of the capital, Kampala and away from the administrative and corporate business area of Nakasero. The park is encircled by Burton Street aligned with the Mega Standard Supermarket, the Royal Complex which houses the Complex Hotel Apartments at the top, Market Street, which enters into Burton and then a series of local merchandise stores leading to Kiyembe Lane. This is in a particular direction. Now, being the Ugandan proper, I am not accustomed to the compass directions. And so now that I have to tell which direction it is, I have to remember the old experiment of standing while facing the sun’s position such that where it rises from is the East and where it sets from is the West and if it is the former, then, your left is the North, right the South and back the West. The problem is that where I am seated, I can’t figure out where the sun is. It is now 6:45 pm and of course, it is setting if not already from where I am given that the tall buildings are now shielding its sight.
I am educated or at least I am receiving an education, but the obvious things such as direction and place positioning are still a problem. Welcome to Uganda! And I can bet many are like me. Even those who are accustomed to using the compass direction in their usual speech also find challenges when faced with the situation. For instance, at the Ivory Tower, which is the great Makerere University, there is the usual reference to the different gates leading into the vast premises it occupies. These are called by the direction in which they are. Thus, you will hear of the Western Gate and Eastern Gate. But ask someone who knows where the Western Gate is, the direction of Kikoni and they will not tell you the obvious. Please don’t laugh at that. Our education can only teach us much. Or is it because traditionally, we never told direction according to the Western-invented tool with arrowheads as hands which use the Earth’s magnetic field to tell whether a particular direction is the North or the South?
Now, we are out of the park and already moving at a steady speed. There seems not to be any signs of heavy traffic today. But I know it will be there because somewhere, the road, Entebbe Road, is being worked on and one lane is closed. It was yesterday. Today, it’s been open.
About the direction. I have remembered where the sun rises from while on this road because I use it in the morning too. Based on that, I can say that the buildings and Market Street and Kiyembe Lane are in the South. Thank God I remembered that because it seems from where we are now, the sun has already been swallowed by the horizon in every direction.
To the West of the park is Ben Kiwanuka Street, Nalubwama Plaza or Complex or Arcade, I don’t know. In the North is the Park View Mall and in the East are other shops adjacent to a road I have forgotten. I deserve some claps for knowing as many roads as I do by the way, given that I am not a boda boda rider nor a frequent visitor of Kikuubo (in downtown) and surrounding parts, save for the taxi park.
We are now in Najjanakumbi and we have branched by a shell. This particular one is opposite the Total Energies fuel station and I can’t seem to see its name. Okay, it’s Petrocity (MC²). In Uganda, the Shell fuel company dominated so much so that colloquially, every gas station is called Shell. Just like every other toothpaste is called Colgate. And so, it is not uncommon to hear a guy ask for the Colgate called Delident.
I am seated by the window to the right at the last seat at the back. By the right, I mean in the line of the driver and also that in Uganda, we are right-hand drivers. This taxi is rather quiet. Everyone seems to be minding their business. That’s rare. Normally, there will be two or three different conversations engaged by different groups of passengers. They are usually loud considering that they don’t know that they are shouting at people. There is also a harboured supposition that people are or will be interested and jump in so that the whole taxi is engaged. Every talker or conversationist in a taxi aims at achieving this feat and when so, he or she is the maker of the day. These guys are usually the most opinionated and most experienced. You won’t say a thing they don’t know about and I am talking about everything from Museveni’s address to the military might of Israel and the recent riots in Sri Lanka and Argentina. Surprisingly, they are usually the least educated and even do blue-collar jobs, but these guys have info! Whether it is true or false the information, they are most convincing and unbeatable in an argument.
I don’t like sitting at the back. I fear that if a car hits us from behind, I’ll be the victim. But since it is first come, first served, and since I was already running late, I had no other choice. I like to sit in the second or third last row and by the window, normally by the right because there you don’t have to get out for one behind you to board off when they reach their destination.
We are now stopped at Roofings, that is at Lubowa. We picked up another passenger having dropped off one earlier on. We are now at Seguku. The silence in the taxi is alarming.
Thank God, my immediate neighbours are talking now. There is this man in his early thirties or thereabouts who seems not to have taken this road before. He is big. And he is holding a smartphone bigger than my annoying android. He’s rather getting weary of the long journey and so he’s opened Google Maps and he’s following our progress. Now, as I write this, my phone is tilted a little to avoid being seen backbiting him. That is one of the biggest problems when it comes to live travel blogging.
He was asking the lady seated at the far end whether we are yet to reach or not. He’s going to Entebbe, Kitooro. And she told him we still had some distance to cover. Later, she told him the different major towns or trading centres we shall pass through. He’s carrying a big green kavera (polythene bag) and I had seen when he boarded and sat that it contains clothes. At first, I thought him to be a casual labourer who’s been called for a job or left one. He is wearing this round green cloth hat that resembles Museveni’s. He holds a half-filled bottle of Rwenzori Mineral Water, which he has been sipping on from time to time. He looks rather distraught. He speaks English with the accent of the northerners. And when he pulled out his phone, I conceded to respect him.
He’s looking rather suspicious and I am now thinking about whether I’ll maintain this blog while I still hold this phone. I need a phone which I can set to block or shied|dim the sight to another apart from me. This version cannot do that and yet you need to know more that I should write without fearing a punch from my neighbour.
We are in Kitende now and the lady has gotten off. This guy has pushed to the window, where the lady was seated. In, has come, this other guy, now seated between us, the big guy and I. He looks humble, this new guy. He is seated with his hands clasped and staring right into the chair in front of him. Okay, maybe over it and ahead at the windscreen looking at the road we are covering. The other big guy is still anxiously affixed to the screen, looking at the progress of the taxi on his opened Maps app.
I am now near my stop and I must stop here.
Wow! I can’t believe I’ve pulled this off. I know today’s taxi has been boring, but let’s hope tomorrow’s will be better. So tell me, do you like this idea of live travel blogging? How was my first attempt? I hope you loved the journey narration and I trust it will get better and better. Cheers!
So, that was me, let me hear from you too…