Yesterday was a really big day for me. My classmates and I experienced our first “drop-off” exercise, in which we were paired and sent off on our own to learn about some topic in the city of Kampala. My partner and I were given the topic of transportation. Others had things like health, education, food, and entertainment. For our topic, we planned to visit the Old Taxi Park, the New Taxi Park, and ride in a taxi for the first time. All of the groups were also instructed to buy mosquito nets, which we will use when we move in with our host families tomorrow.
To learn about transportation, we first tried to look at a map to figure out where the taxi parks were. Maps aren’t very widely used in Kampala, and the one we had was not very helpful. So we decided to start walking in the direction we thought the parks might be in, and ask someone along the way. Our program staff had been telling us that Ugandans are very friendly and helpful people, and this was certainly confirmed. Using some of the Luganda language skills we learned the day before, we approached a man and asked him where the Old Taxi Park was. Ugandans absolutely love when Mzungus (white people) speak the local language because it seems to show that we’re really trying to be more than just tourists; we’re interested in the people and we want to learn their language to be able to communicate with them. We tried to greet each person we met with Luganda and also thanked them when we were finished. It truly felt incredible!
Using the directions offered by a few different people (directions here are funny: “you know the petrol station next to the pharmacy? Go down down down and turn right, then left, then slope down and turn right. It’s very easy and very close.”), we finally made it to our destination: the Old Taxi Park. The two taxi parks in Kampala are incredibly overwhelming to say the least. The only way I can attempt to describe it is to picture a huge dust-covered parking lot with vans crammed together in every which way as far at the eye can see. Different stations mark the departure routes for the taxis. Taxis in Uganda are kind of like buses in the US. They have a certain route that they take with a few stops, but basically you just need to yell something to the driver when you are nearing your stop. The taxi will pull over, and you will pay your fare. Taxis have 12 or 16 seats for passengers and a driver. The taxis cannot leave the park until they are full, so some people will have to wait a considerable amount of time just to begin to leave, not to mention the amount of time it takes to find a way out to get back to the road.
If this were not overwhelming enough, the area directly surrounding the taxi park is composed of a large marked filled with everything and anything. I saw clothing, shoes, sim cards, fabric, mangoes, small electronics, and so many other things, including mosquito nets, which we dutifully purchased (I got to haggle for the first time!). The area is so congested, and it is a place that requires special vigilance in all the shuffle, or you are almost sure to have something unknowingly snatched away from you if it is not secured.
Not only are there vendors with small makeshift shops set up around the park, but there are people walking between all the squeezed-in taxis peddling a variety of things like wallets and passion fruits to the people walking around and sitting in the waiting taxis. After taking all of this in, my classmate and I decided to head over to the New Taxi Park to see if it was similar. On our way through the markets on our way out, we began talking to a vendor named Muhammad that was selling shoes in his shop. He asked about America, and me that I should consider moving to California because he really likes Schwarzenegger (who we begrudgingly informed him was no longer in office). We asked him about life in Uganda, and told him we were students studying in Uganda for the next three months. He was really surprised we were here to study because, he said, most students in Uganda would give anything to be able to study in America. It reminded me how lucky I am. Altogether, the conversation was about 15 or 20 minutes. In the end, we asked him if he could point us in the direction to the New Taxi Park, and he actually left his shop to walk us there himself.
After observing the area for a bit, he asked us where we wanted to go in the taxi and I showed him the address of our hotel that I had written down in my notebook. He took us to the right taxi, confirmed with the driver, and was ready to send us on our way. He even wrote down his two cell phone numbers for us to call if we got lost or needed any help with anything. It was a very different experience than anything I’ve had before, and his kindness really made me smile.
We were some of the last passengers to board the taxi, and when it was finally full, we still could not move for another 20 minutes. For us to move, several other vehicles in front of and around us had to move out of the way. There was a lot of honking, yelling from driver to driver, and even a couple of people started whacking the back of the taxi with their hands. As I looked around at all of the other passengers in our taxi, I couldn’t help but laugh when I realized this was simply commonplace; no one even batted an eyelash.
The taxi driver would turn the engine on, and we would move a couple of feet, then he would turn it off, and we would wait for a couple of minutes for the taxis in front of us to move again. More yelling. Meanwhile, vendors everywhere poked their heads through the windows trying to sell us leather wallets and yards of fabric. Finally as we began creeping forward at a slow, yet consistent rate, we entered the street of the market surrounding the taxi park. The taxi was only feet away from vendors on either side of the “road” with people walking everywhere. Once again, I don’t even know how to begin to describe such a spectacle. It was insane.
When we finally got out onto the real roads, I realized I didn’t even know when or where the taxi was supposed to stop in relation to our hotel. Like I said, taxis don’t take you to a specific place like a cab in the US, they each follow a particular route, and people yell to the driver when they want to get off.
Needless to say, we missed our stop. We eventually got off, paid the driver, and ended up walking for a very long time back the direction we had just come. Another “assignment” was to get lunch on our own, something that we would be doing for the first time. We saw a sign for a restaurant, crossed the road, and entered a compound-like area that housed the restaurant and a couple of other buildings. We looked for the “restaurant”, but found only an empty restaurant-looking building with no patrons and no food. We left and continued onward.
After consulting the map, we realized that we had a long way to go, so we began looking for a taxi to take us back to the hotel. Every taxi that passed us by was jam-packed. We continued walking of the dusty “path” next to the road. Once again, I couldn’t help but laugh: this “path” had bodas whizzing by, giant tree roots protruding, rocks, open man holes, and a plethora of other things to keep us on our toes (literally). However, this is how most of the “sidewalks” are in Kampala, so I’m learning to get used to all the new obstacles (though still tripping and falling on a couple of occasions).
We finally found a large taxi stop, hopped on a taxi, and rode right back to the hotel. We paid our fare, but were not given any change. We insisted several times for the “Balance” (using some of our Luganda) and were finally given our due change. As I’m quickly learning here, you have to be pretty firm if you don’t want to be taken advantage of.
We got lunch at a place close to our hotel (after walking up to another deserted restaurant in a weird alley), ate an carb-intensive meal, and headed back to our meeting spot in the hotel garden with about fifteen minutes before we were due back. Overall the experience was so much fun! It took a lot of patience, confidence, and a sense of humor, and overall I thought we did quite well!
Later that night, a group of about 10 of us decided to go to dinner at a restaurant called “Boston View.” We were seated at three different tables, and given one menu for each table. After about 15 minutes the waitress took our drink orders and brought out our drinks several minutes later (you have to say “waTer”, not “wa(d)er” or they have no idea what you mean). Before we could order our food, we had to pay for our drinks. Kind of strange, but we went with it. Several minutes later, the waitress took the orders of one of the other tables. About 20 minutes after that, she took the orders of the other table. About 25 minutes later she began to take the orders of our table. Whenever someone tried to order something, she said that they had none left. I eventually just asked her what food they did have left, and she informed me that had chips (French fries), sausage, and Chap (which has something to do with eggs apparently). That was all. We decided to leave and go to another restaurant.
We ended up at another restaurant that was incredibly delicious, had excellent service, and was quite charming to look at. The prices were much higher, but we were very grateful to be eating such wonderful food.
By the end of the day I was covered in dust, but still no sunburn or mosquito bites! I'm pretty sure I fell asleep before I hit the pillow last night.
til next time
