Today it was our fantabulous Monday Morning Mentor Meeting (M4). I spoke for an hour about various business items I’m trying to incorporate at Educate! and then did mentor reimbursements. Fun stuff.
Afterwards I had to travel into Kampala to pay the MTN phone bill. Maggie was bored so she decided to join with me. We stopped at Quality Cuts on the way into Kampala and I got a sandwich and she got a coffee. Good food and coffee and we had nice conversation.
We paid the MTN bill and then neither of us wanted to head back to the Buziga compound.
“Lets go on an adventure.” Maggie said.
“Okay.”
“I need to buy some Indian spices.” She said. “There’s an Indian mart by Nakasero market.”
We went to the Indian store and while Maggie perused the aisles I walked around looking at the various spices on the shelves.
A man approached me. My first thought was “this guy doesn’t work here. Be careful.” But then he picked some spices off the racks and tried to sell them to me. There was a girl who I KNEW worked there that was standing close by. I figured she’d have said something if the the guy didn’t work there.
He smiled at me. He was missing all his top front teeth. “My name is Udi!” He said.
“Hi I’m Joe.”
Udi went on to tell me about various friends he has in America (Bill in Colorado, Jim in California, Mike in New Jersey).
“Hey – I have a bean I want to sell you.”
I figured he worked there so he would show me a bean on the shelf.
He started to walk out.
“Wait” I said. “Do you work here?”
He nodded and continued walking. Hmm…something was wrong.
As Udi neared the front of the store the proprietor yelled at him. “Get out of my store. I told you not to come back in here.” He screamed.
I walked over sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I thought he worked here.”
The proprietor shook his head.
“No no no – be careful with that man.”
We walked out and Udi ran up to me.
“There you are! Come this way! Come with me.” He pointed down a side street.
I was pretty furious he lied to me. “Go away.” I yelled at him. “You lied to me and I wont buy anything from you.”
He tried to tug at my arm. I shot him a look of death. He held out a vanilla bean.
“I wont buy anything from you. Go away.”
He walked away. I hate that I always have to be skeptical and on-guard but as soon as you stop being a cynic people take advantage of you.
Next we walked to a hindu temple and Maggie showed me the different Gods and explained what they represented. We had to leave our shoes outside.
“Whats the chance these shoes are here when we get back?” I asked.
“I hope they don’t get stolen.” Maggie said.
The temple was beautiful and eery and fascinating at the same time. We walked around to the various paintings of the Hindu gods and then walked back out.
Our shoes were still there. A small win for us. J
We decided to walk to the largest outdoor market in East Africa. It’s a few blocks long and deep and its located between Old Taxi Park and New Taxi Park.
The market is super interesting but its also notorious spot for pickpockets. In fact, in all of Kampala its known as the one with the most thieves. Now its not a particularly dangerous place, just a place abounding with pick pockets.
Maggie and I know how to handle ourselves by now. She tucked her purse underneath her arm like a football and I consolidated all my valuables in the front center pocket of my jacket.
Check AND check.
We entered and it was just crazy and chaotic as we thought. Mzungus aren’t a common sight in this place and everyone thinks we are dumb and have a lot of money – every single vendor was screaming at us to buy their jeans and t shirts and fish and spatula’s. It was so crowded and narrow and good were stocked so high and tarp was used to cover the top that it felt like we were underground.
We found a store that sold hats. Maggie found a cool hat. I couldn’t find one that fit. They were all used. We laughed that these hats probably came from the US in goodwill boxes and now we were considering buying them. Hey they make good conversation pieces, right?
The market was really cool but definitely not what I’d call a tourist destination. More on that in a second.
Finally we figured out a way to get out of the market. We walked outside and saw a section of Kampala I’d never seen. Very impoverished and industrial and everyone was surprised the mzungu’s had found their way through the entire mart and popped out in this section of town.
“Want to walk in deeper?” Maggie asked.
“Sure.”
We both peered down the muddy, ramshackle street.
“Do you think its safe?” She asked.
“I don’t know.” I admitted. “Maybe its better to do it when we have more daylight.”
The sun was starting to set.
“Agreed.”
We set out to find our way back to Old Taxi Park.
We both agreed that if we took any Westerner to the market and the street behind the market they’d be in culture shock. I can’t explain how different that world is from anything we have in the US. Its not that Maggie and I are Mr. and Mrs. Africa – but getting acclimated to the lifestyle here definitely takes time and that market with its smells and sights and crowded stalls and people screaming mzungu would be too much for someone that just got to Kampala. It takes a while before you can digest something like that.
Afterwards the traffic was so bad we decided to walk to Ggaba Road (after the traffic) to get a matatu to Buziga. Got into one and went to Le Petite Bistro a mzungu spot that’s famous for its steaks.
Had a few beers and some great food and conversation.
We had to figure out how to get home.
“I guess we could walk.” I said.
“Is that safe?” Maggie asked.
“I don’t know.”
Again we decided not to risk it. We took a matatu to Ggaba and got off at Ggaba Road / Buziga Road intersection. We were still a mile away from home but decided to walk it rather than risk a boda boda ride. I didn’t have my helmet.
We were walking. A car zoomed past us, slammed on the breaks and backed up.
A man poked his head out. Hey we saw you up on Ggaba Road. Would you like a lift?
“No.” I said sternly. I didn’t want there to be any misinterpretation of my intention to walk.
The car drove away.
“That’s why it’s good travelling with a man.” Maggie said.
I agreed.
Maggie’s phone has a flashlight on it and we used it as we walked along the dark roads of Buziga back to our compound.
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