The one with the rare polite driver

It is 7:07 pm. I have just sat in the taxi. This time I am not in the Old Taxi Park. I am in a mini taxi park in Nakawa Market. The taxi has started and of course, the usual hooting, screeching of brakes and coughing of the old engines is the music being played. And because we are in a market, I can hear the incessant chants of the sellers of tomatoes — bbiri bbiri enyaanya; shoes — engato za kanaana, to mention just a few.

We have now successfully gotten out of the market and we are now heading to the Jinja Highway through the Naguru Link adjacent to the Lugogo Mall. It was my first time using this park and so because I was afraid it may take hours to have a taxi filled up, I ended up taking up the most uncomfortable seat in a Ugandan taxi. That is the first chair by the pull-back door behind the driver’s and by the engine (akameeme). Technically, that is the conductor’s seat, but because taxis are licensed to carry 14 passengers, this chair is shared by a passenger and the conductor to make the 14 minus the conductor.

It is the most uncomfortable because you have to squeeze up to fit. The seat is a three-seater with distinct chairs to gazette the space for the three passengers. Now, the unfortunate passenger, like I am today, has to plead with the others to squeeze such that the conductor can reasonably fit as well. If the other passengers are big or fat, there is a problem. If they are smaller, then you’re lucky. Sometimes, actually many times, the chair space is small so that squeezing up of the passengers won’t help. Normally, you’ll seat at the edge of the chair because the others are seated well in the chairs and can lean back and there is no way you all can fit if you don’t sit like that. As a result, you’ll travel without leaning leaving the back hurting.

I am now on Entebbe Road and in heavy traffic, what we call “jam” here in Uganda. I would say that I am seated fairly well because my fellow passengers are not so big that I cannot fit when they squeeze up. As a matter of fact, I am half-leaning on the back of the chair with my right backside resting on the chair and my left in the air. But I can conveniently type this as we go. But how did I even choose to sit here in the first place? Like I said, the taxi park in Nakawa Market is a small one and does not attract many travellers. So, getting just one taxi filled especially one for Entebbe, a faraway place from Nakawa is a dream. So, when Nicholas and Bright brought me to the park at the Entebbe Stage, one passenger had been missing for a long while for this taxi to set off. Of course, that passenger is the one who would share this seat with the conductor. You may not understand what sharing the seat means. It means that you’ll have one butt cheek on either chair and bear that position till you arrive at your destination unless some passengers get off.

So because I am not one who will sit in this chair, I opted for another taxi which would next be boarded. But having waited about 2 minutes without anyone coming to the first taxi for it to set off, and considering the time, I decided I would either get a boda to the Old Taxi Park or take up the empty seat in the first taxi. Before choosing the latter, I asked at what point the first passenger would get off and being told it was Kibuye, which is very near, I made my choice.

And just as I was writing that, the first passenger got off and I didn’t waste time occupying the seat she was in. We are in Kibuye but in traffic leading to the Airtel Clock roundabout. The old lady adorned in a bright green gomesi couldn’t wait for any further and chose to get off and walk the rest of the distance home. We are moving now, slowly, and we haven’t caught up with her heavy slow and tired feet. She was right, I do agree.

One thing I have disliked since I got my senses is hotness. You don’t get me, I understand, but let me explain. When I am in bed, I sleep on one side and after it warms up, I shift to the other cold one where I am more comfortable. I also turn my pillow. Now, if that is how I dislike my own heat, you can imagine how much I dislike another’s. I hate to sit in a chair previously sat in by another and especially if it was warmed up such that sitting feels like there is a furnace under the chair. This is why I don’t like sitting on foldable chairs in a taxi where you have to keep getting up and out for another to enter and sometimes depending on how far you are going, you are advised to change seats so you don’t inconvenience others or be inconvenienced yourself. In short, I moved from one uncomfortable seat to another. But of course, this one is better.

Now, we are in Najjanakumbi at the other fuel station (shell) called Petrocity. We have stayed here for close to seven minutes now. After the other passenger got out, we had to pick up another and this particular one has got stuff packed up in sacks. Four if I’ve counted right. They’ve been placed at the rack on top of the taxi and another is being carried from a somewhat distant place from where we are parked. At the time we were stopped by this passenger, we had moved well past the station and so when she explained she had some shipment (from today, please know that for a car, it’s shipment, but for a ship, cargo; yes English is quite funny), we had to reverse so as to close up the distance.

Now, there were some women selling some stuff on the roadside and one among them, very tough indeed, called out to the driver and demanded the right of space and protection of her merchandise. We stopped just at her stuff, with the car tyre almost getting to it. The driver got out and a fuss happened. She argued she has rights over the public road as well as the car owners and drivers and that just because she’s a hawker, she won’t be undermined to the extent of being chased away by entitled taxi drivers. Apparently, the driver had attempted to request her to move farther away from the road so as to help reduce the distance of the men carrying the shipment. His pleas met a deaf ear. She never moved. Instead, she argued, quarrelled and even swore right in the face of the soft-spoken driver. I am seated in the second last row of seats and yet I didn’t even hear a thing of his voice. Now, this driver deserves a medal for being the most polite taxi driver I have met. Eh, taxi drivers and conductors can yell! They are so brusque and good with obscenities. But this one was different. He was humble and didn’t argue anymore when the woman refused to get out of the way. He chose to become the wrong one even when he was right.

For starters, this woman was on the road, which is publicly available and only so for drivers, riders and pedestrians. In fact, where we were, there was a pedestrians’ lane on the side of the road, after the trench, which means that not even pedestrians would argue. But she, defying the multiple ordinances of KCCA, Kampala City Council Authority, banning roadside hawkers, had the guts to argue. I mean, this guy would even step on the sweets and bagiya and still have no case to answer. But the poor lady complained and made her point.

Now, I am seated on the far right of the same row, by the window. This is my favourite seat. While at Namasuba, the passenger previously in this spot got out and I hurriedly took up the seat. It was at least not as hot as the second chair I took. So, I can comfortably say that I am comfortable.

We are in Segukua now. Passing the market with stalls of all kinds of foodstuffs. This taxi is somewhat lively. A particular radio show has been playing since I boarded, in Nakawa, and it sounds like it is a political show. There is some conversation here. Two ladies at the back, one on the far left and the other in the centre chair. Then this guy on my row at the left by the window with the guy seated in front of him. The ladies have been gossiping largely, talking about this and about that. Now, I can’t quite make their conversation but I hear them still talk. The guys on the other side are talking about films. The front guy is describing a film he saw called (ah, I haven’t quite picked the name, they are not too loud and I am focused on my writing) but there was a king and a prince and the prince would later take over the throne. But from what I gather, it must have been a boring one or had some funny thing in it that justifies a hypothesis these guys are testing.

‘Obviously, you could see it from the very way the film began…,’ the guy on my far left has concluded. We are now in Kajjansi and they have indicated they will be getting off here. We are here at the pedestrian tower bridge and we are approaching the stage. We have stopped here opposite some bookshop and Verse Pharmacy on my side, the right and over the other side of the road. The front guy moved out leaving this guy in my seat row behind. Just a few meters away, this guy has also hopped off. He had picked up a call and all we heard was ‘Oliwa, yeh, oliwa? Mistchew!’ In English, that is: Where are you?

The guy on my immediate left is dosing. He’s pretty tired I can see. I was tired myself initially and somewhere before we reached the Queen’s Clocktower, I dozed off, while typing, almost dropping my phone. He is now up and looking at the ships on his left. He sits holding his backpack to his chest, hugging it tightly. What is he scared of now? That someone can steal his property in the taxi? Anyway, I don’t blame him, it is advisable to do that if you’ll dose off in a taxi.

One thing I don’t understand is whether these ladies at the back know each other or have only met here in the taxi. One bit of the chatter will depict them to be strangers and the other as long-time friends or even relatives. Now, they are quiet. The lady seated right behind me has just shouted, ‘Maas’ awo.’ That means at the next possible parking space. She has gotten out and the chattering ladies are now directly behind me. One of them is complaining he’s given away her change to a man I don’t know. She’s fearing the conductor may not return all her change and yet she’s left with a big nite. Conductors have a tendency of doing that when the fare had a five hundred shillings coin on it such that you would expect that coin back as part of the change.

I have just reached my stage. Let me get out. Bye.