Kampala like a Rowdy Teenager

 

Wandegeya

“I could hardly believe it when I heard the news today. I had to come and get it straight from you. They said you were leavin'. Someone's swept your heart away. From the look upon your face, I see it's true.

So, tell me all about it. Tell me 'bout the plans you're makin'. Tell me one thing more before I go. Tell me how am I supposed to live without you? Now that I've been lovin' you so long. How am I supposed to live without you? And how am I supposed to carry on? When all that I've been livin' for is gone.”

Michael Bolton’s husky voice sounds like he’s lost every reason to live – yeah! Love can get that way sometimes.

Anyways, just shaken off the fog of jet lag – the cobweb cast - soft and stretchy and yet sticky and firm. I bobbed between exhaustion and exhilaration. Memories of home still fresh, the taste of mangoes pasted on my pallet.

Now I emerge.

Was I even in Uganda? It was too short. The overall experience was exhilarating but when I start picking it apart, I’m like hmmm! I see the good and the complicated – just like in all relationships.

Ugandan’s give the best hugs – paka the hearts as if squish, high five and attempt to merge. My hair grew. 😊

It was great to be with family again – those people who embrace every bit about you – who notice the subtle changes but acknowledge you are still the same. You have the courage to bare your scars and know they’ll be around to the end. Safe.

Kampala has grown. The Cafés, the lounges, the new buildings, and incessant construction. The Air bnb’s and hotels, the malls, the lodges, and supermarkets – it’s amazing the businesses brewing in this small country.

I came across “Secrets Guest House” – but Ugandan’s!!! Is it Sidi or Lakunle in “The Lion and the Jewel” who says “Have you no shame – at your age…” anyways none of my business.

Time is money. Kampalan’s have got with the program – whether they can’t see you because you are not priority or because schedules are tight – some people are more aware of the value of time. Trying to get across town for a meeting? The stress of a taxi going back, back, forth and forth is the last thing one needs – in comes Safe-Boda flying passengers from Ntinda to Muyenga in no time. Want to send a package, the phone number of a trusted boda-boda guy should be set in your contacts. He’ll do all the couriering you’ll ever need.

Once I had car trouble; Suzan gave me the number of a mechanic. Our conversation went something like this:

“Hello, my name is Mary, your number was given to me by a friend. Can you do some body work on my car?”

“Yes madam, let’s look at the car. Where are you?”

I told him.

“Ok, we are coming.”

They found me, looked at the car, took it, found the parts, returned with a quotation, sorted the car, and delivered it, all at my convenience. Not bad – I could get used to this.

On the flip side, every transaction is layered – something for something – the levels of dodginess are through the roof. The love of money brings out the worst in some Ugandans even people you once considered friends. I made a transaction last year that left a sour taste in my mouth – that “friendship” is on the shelf.

Kampala felt like a rowdy teenager caught between childish ways and maturity.  The wild swerves of boda-bodas through the alleys of Industrial area, Wandegeya and Ntinda – left me breathless. My son likened a trip through Kampala city to survival in Grand Theft Auto – surprises and life-threatening events swing out of nowhere – a pothole, a bump, a motorcycle swerving in from a blind spot, a street kid suddenly peering in through the car window. The sun’s laser gaze, and a gush of dust blown by the wind for extra measure. Traffic-jams riled my stomach, pasted over by police officers flagging the car down every few meters.

People everywhere, doing everything, minding their own business, not! Their ears are set to the ground, they know all the secrets of the town – who’s fooling who, who’s dodging what. Make one wrong or sudden move and they’ll be all over you like rash. I sat at the Kamwokya bus stage and observed the taxi touts, women selling bananas, people making phone calls, school children crossing roads. When I attempted to take a photo, I got side eye of “Don’t even think about it - been watching you”.

I observed the go-getter pretty girls in four-wheel drives cutting into traffic like – “Babe! I’m the real deal.” The seething competition to be the best dressed. The frustration – “because why are you so chill?” I didn’t have the time.

Young professionals on fire – ambition, mood, travel, vibe, confusion.

Made in Uganda is sizzling – beauty products, food, fashion, business, consultancies, authors – it’s a whole new world.

The people with money are going gaga! Saturation at embarrassing levels. Plans and business deals being sliced on corner tables in cafes and lounges. They slide into their cars and roll up windows to block out poverty.

The language and city accent has morphed.

Kampala is growing out – Kyanja, Wobulenzi, Lweeza, Mukono and beyond – the city is shifting. Sure House, once the hotbed of activity has locked shops but Muyenga is literally heaving, buzzing, expanding – shops, medical centers, restaurants, cafes ….

There is news of an oil pipeline running through Buliisa to the port of Tanga, Tanzania on the Indian Ocean. Money! Then there’s the Parish Development Model (PDM) and whatever that stands for. Money! One just needs the Wi-Fi passcode and location of the power socket to plug in and charge.

There are no sidewalks in Ntinda, Bukoto, Kamwokya, Mulago, Wandegeya, but we can eat – the weather is still the best and food stuffs are still juicy and growing everywhere. Perhaps there is a method to the madness – gotta believe it.