A strong reason for leaving the bustle and stresses of London and coming out to Africa was the commute to work. During my 6 years in the UK capital I worked in Victoria, London Bridge, Canary Wharf and Stratford and including the numerous site visits I completed most parts of the Greater London area. If I looked at a tube map I think I could actually tick off close to 85% of the stations and say I’ve set foot on their platforms. As all Londoners know, the route to work can be a hot, sweaty and drawn out experience with carriages crammed full of suit-clad, Metro engrossed silent people; something that took me a while to get used to when I arrived. Cycling to work I will miss however; weaving between, and around, angry bus drivers and even angrier taxi drivers before you’ve even eaten your breakfast. But then again, that can be replicated here with the public taxi buses (Matatu’s) and Boda Bodas if you so choose.
Although it is a legality for everyone to take driving lessons and be in possession of a valid licence while negotiating the Kampala traffic, I think it’s safe to assume less than 50% have ever sat in a car with anyone with any teaching experience. Especially in a country where the license can be bought from under the counter for significantly less than the cost of one lesson in the UK. Makes me think about all those ‘licenced’ minicabs I’ve taken from Infernos at 3am! While it is a well-known fact that motorbikes are dangerous and travelling on a Boda Boda without a helmet is frankly stupid, after 6 months of driving I can safely – mind the pun – warn the reader that those who are most dangerous would appear to be the Matatu drivers. It would seem, from their driving ability, these nutters clambered into the front seat of a Toyota mini-bus during their youthful teenage years, borrowed a large book to sit on to help them to see over the steering wheel and since that day ferried the nations commuters, and occasional unsuspecting tourists, around in their personalised death traps. Not only do they drive far too fast, erratically pulling out into traffic without the faintest glance in either direction, but do so with what would appear to be a death wish; comfortable in the unshaking belief that unless it’s their day to ‘meet the big man upstairs,’ overtaking at the crest of a hill, around a blind corner, in the dark, without lights on all will surely be fine.
I can hear you say, “it can’t be that bad, there are bad drivers everywhere” and I agree with you, however I've never experienced such a huge gulf in the two personalities of this Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde nation. Ugandans in general are a kind, happy, unselfish and mostly honest people who will break into a warm smile and friendly greeting the first time you meet them. The children are content with their lot, video games and all that the London oiks were smashing and grabbing would be wasted on them. Whilst the adults will smile, wave and welcome you back to your house every evening as you pass them as they walk slowly home. However, once this man climbs behind the wheel of 2 tons of metal the transformation occurs and the changes manifest themselves and they become selfish, arrogant, careless, impatient and dangerous bent on getting everywhere as fast as possible while performing as many insane manoeuvres as they can. Obviously, as we have discussed above, those with the most practice are the worst offenders. However, the average car on the road will assume that it is his right to overtake a fully loaded bus while it in turn overtakes a petrol tanker. The reason he is flashing his lights at you is his way of saying; how dare you aren't pulling off the road into that deep drainage ditch or roadside sugarcane field to allow him through. Don’t you realise he’s in much more of a hurry to get nowhere fast!
Even with all of these dangers and irritations on the road, there’s still certainly something to be said for switching the hour spent underground struggling for air with someone’s head in my armpit – well it’s hardly going to be the other way around – to driving to work. Especially during the early morning rush; winding your way through the alive and exciting side streets of an African city with its newspaper, phonecard and chapatti sellers, scattering chickens and goats to the sides of the road as you go, and watching that big red African sun rising up from over the horizon. Just make sure you buy a 4x4!
