Kampala - An Intense City

A view of Arua Park in down town Kampala. Photo Credit: Mary Ongwen

I had missed Uganda and its capital. I wanted to experience the downtown markets of Nakasero and kikuubo, roll with the cool guys on SafeBoda’s, sit with the local women as they lit sigiris’ and fanned firewood. I wanted to dine in Kampala Serena, sip cappuccinos and lattes at Cafesseria. I wanted to travel to the countryside, see all things, do all things, taste, relish, embrace. I wanted to nourish a hunger that had grown over three years. See my papa and mama and siblings.

Familiar tastes, sights, sounds and people allowed for a deep-seated comfort – a return to a warm nook, a favorite place. The warm hugs, the worn paths, the happy stories, the heartaches connecting lives at the origin of life’s pulse. People finished sentences like I was never gone. Virtual friendships were sealed, the connections encompassed faith, beliefs, and life values.

After a while the cracks in the ceiling surfaced, I was reminded of the annoying humps on Ntinda stretcher. The touts who claimed the taxi was about to leave only to yo-yo in the same spot for another ten minutes. I began to dodge potholes from memory and understand the non-verbal communication of the security guards. I remembered personal space didn’t have a place here.

I was back.

I was on the road a lot so most impressions were influenced by journeys and interactions within the city.

Beyond the discomfort of dust caked in layers on my eyelashes and throat, Kampala’s growth is evident. More of everything – economic growth, private ventures, indiscipline, creativity, insecurity, wealth, agriculture and more.

Kampala’s intensity numbed and exhilarated all at once. Urban migration is real. Youth employment is of grave importance. What were once outskirts -Mukono, Najjeera, Kulambiro are now in-skirts and they continue to grow. Growth is good, the disorganization not so much. KCCA has its work cut out.

Kampala is an urgent city – like a continuous party or a scene in a Grand Theft Auto game: a boda accident over here, a fender bender over there. Taxi touts call for passengers, boda cyclists whizz by and assume a ride contract because of eye contact. Music blares from supermarket speakers, road side vendors loom over car windows in traffic. The car hoots and street side conversations – everybody minds their own business and others. 

A huge truck knocks down the wall to a private residence. The back of the truck remains logged between the compound and the road. The truck hangs in midair over a drainage – hard to demystify the “cool” maneuver that resulted in this situation. Traffic slogs up the Kiwatule turn off, idlers surround – each with a version of how the accident unfolded, life resumes.

The incessant traffic jams (except at 2:00am perhaps), taxi drivers with their own set of road rules and the boda-boda cyclists that skillfully made sudden appearances at blind spots were most unnerving. Good to have more traffic lights, and the bypasses that help ease traffic on the outskirts – except everyone is thinking the same thing.

Ugandan’s remain trendy. After one or two meetings with a friend who politely told me to smarten up, I begun to scan the fitted skirts, the high heels and matte lipstick painted in cafés, offices and on Kampala road. It was important to represent and not shame the diaspora. Ugandans have class.

Ugandan’s are still friendly but a little more aggressive. They still help with directions and empathize with those in need. Drivers cut into traffic mercilessly, everyone assumes right of way. After two instances of courtesy on the road one easily joins the road rage because you soon become the enemy for giving way, choice words are thrown through windows. Once immersed in the aggressive zone, one chances on a driver who’s gracious, allows you to join the road or make a turn and suddenly the trance wears off and you realize there are some sane people out there.

The traffic police? I will leave those alone – not enough time or space to delve into the details.

Uganda suffers lopsided development, but development none the less. There’s stack contrast in quality of infrastructure between eastern and western Uganda. A clear line between the haves and have not’s. Again, not enough time or space to delve into the details here.

Good food – Ugandans have not lost taste. The number of restaurants, Cafés and kafundas just go to show Ugandans like their food and they like it steamy hot. From The Lawns, to Café Java’s and all the fabulous eat outs in between the choices are endless from muchomo to muchuzi chips. We will talk customer service another day.

Good music! Ugandan’s love to have a good time. I met a friend in Ntinda, the location had no signage – those who know it, know it. Those who do not probably don’t belong. The music was cool, the ambience just right!  An old tymers kind of thing. Highly recommended as a wind down zone after a day’s hustle. One travels back in time to life’s good moments – you literally forget the guy who nyigged you, the missed promotion that was rightfully yours, the business deal that fell through. Yah!

A lot has changed and yet so much remains the same. I was glad to fit in and yet study the country from a distance.

Subsequent articles will be short stories, interesting events and encounters along the way.

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