The bus left at 4:00 but Rachel and I left our compound at 2:30 so we could stop at Quality Cuts on the way into Kampala. (Quality Cuts is my new favorite place to eat. The salami is Ugandan-made (which is slightly scary) but the sandwiches are awesome and they’re cheap (4,000 USH = $2)).
We took a matatu to Quality Cuts, got sandwiches (yay!) and took another matatu to Old Taxi Park. The bus park, you may recall, is where I was when someone walked up to one of the mentors and said, “The wolves are out tonight. Protect the mzungu.” You may also recall me saying that I wouldn’t ever go there again. But – it’s really funny – when I got here Emily and Angelica told me the denizens of Kampala could sniff out a newcomer with ease. I told them I didn’t think that would apply to me – hey, I’m a “with it” kind of guy, a New Yorker with a little ‘tude and some street smarts…but I was wrong. When I used to walk around Old Taxi Park or the Bus station I was positively harassed. They could smell the fear oozing out of my pores. BUT now it’s no big thing. Maybe I’m more accustomed to it, maybe I don’t look quite so green anymore. Whatever it is I am much more comfortable in these places.
We walked into the Bus Park and some guy started harassing me about which bus line we were going to take.
“Look at me. I am your friend, okay? I am your friend.”
“I don’t need your help sebbo. Go away.”
He didn’t go away, but he left Rachel and I alone as we tried to figure out which bus would take us to Hoima.
Finally there was a hoard of people around Rachel and I.
“Mzungu! Where you going?!”…”Where you going mzungu?!”
I finally relented.
“Hoima.”
“Get on this bus! We leave now.” One of the conductors pointed to a bus that looked like it might fall apart before leaving the bus park.
“No thank you sebbo.”
We finally found the best bus company (Link).
I walked up to the conductor.
‘When does this bus leave.”
“Soon mzungu. Soon.”
“I need a time. We are waiting for a friend to join us. We cannot leave without her.”
Maggie was running late and I didn’t want her to travel to Hoima alone. Between Maggie, Rachel and myself I was the only one that had ever been to Hoima.
“Yes. We wait for your friend mzungu.”
“What time do you leave?!”
“4:30.”
I looked at my watch. It was 3:00…if we waited an hour and a half I knew Maggie would get there in time.
“Okay sebbo.”
I bought tickets and Rachel and myself boarded. As soon as I walked in I knew we wouldn’t be leaving at 4:30. We were the first ones on the bus. Oh well. We sat down and ate our sandwiches.
We finally left at 5:15 after Rachel and I had been sitting for over two hours. Knowing that you never really know when buses are going to leave, if they are going to break down and when they are going to arrive takes some serious bladder control. Since there are no restrooms on the bus and they often don’t make stops for people to go to the bathroom…I basically dehydrate myself before getting on a bus. All I had that day was a small bottle of water when I woke up. We sat on the hot, unconditioned bus for two hours but I didn’t allow myself to have anything to drink. Just an interesting thing you learn after taking enough of these buses.
The ride was uneventful. Maggie, Rachel and I argued about whether America should pull all aid out of Africa. I mentioned to them that I’m reading a book by a famous Ugandan scholar who posited that the worst day of colonialism isn’t when it started, but when it stopped. Today, if America takes their aid away from Africa and leaves them to their own devices the whole continent might collapse. Its not a good place now, but it could get a whole lot worse. Rachel is very knowledgeable about all these topics and we had a very interesting conversation…but I feel the conversation always ends with us admitting, frustratedly, that there really seems to be no feasible solution.
It turned dark and we drove through the undulating African countryside. Occassionally I would stick my head out the window and watch as the headlights bobbed across the varying landscapes. We’d pass people walking. People riding bikes. Boys running alongside tires in the inky blackness. People standing on the side of the road looking at the bus. Men in front of a bikeshop standing around doing nothing.
We had been driving for nearly 3 hours.
Maggie looked at me worriedly, “Are you sure you’ll know where to get off?”
I smiled. “Well, I’ve been here once and that was with Solomon and that was during the day. But, yeah I think so?”
We passed a gas station that looked familiar to me.
“Maggie, ask that man if we’re in Hoima.”
“Sebbo, how long till Hoima?”
“This is it now.” He said. “But they will drop you off at the bus park.”
Phew.
We got off the bus park and walked to the Nsoma hotel.
After much struggling with the lady at the Nsoma hotel we ascertained the Nsoma couldn’t fit the entire Educate! staff (12 people). Since Maggie, Rachel and I were the first Educate! members to arrive the onus was on us to secure lodging.
We walked to another hotel, “The Lord’s Sheep Lodge” and they had enough space, but were very expensive. We walked back to the Nsoma. At this point I was pretty agitated and tired.
We finally figured out that the Nsoma hotel COULD in fact accommodate all of us. Emily and Angelica arrived on a matatu and we all settled into our respective rooms. Then the group of mzungu’s (the mentors hadn’t arrived yet) decided to get food.
“Lets go the to the Kolping Hotel.” I chirped. The Kolping Hotel was the only westernized place I’d found in Hoima.
Well – it was much different going to the Kolping Hotel at night. We had to walk down an unlit highway for about a quarter of a mile.
“You sure you know where this place is?” The girls asked me.
“Umm, I think so!” I joked.
Finally we came upon it.
“Can we see your menu?” I asked.
She handed me an ornate, extensive menu.
“All we have is goat meat and matoke.” She added.
Nice.
“We also have a buffet.” She swept her hand across the buffet that was set up. Looked better than goat meat.
We decided to do the buffet.
The rest of the night was good. The food actually wasn’t bad from what I gathered (I didn’t eat any. I am officially sick of Ugandan food).
Oh yeah, I also completely wiped out walking up the stairs in front of everybody. It was pretty funny. I guess I am still as uncoordinated and goofy as ever.
I slept well that night.
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