To and From

The manner of traveling in Uganda throws caution to the wind. 

The three main modes of transportation:

1. Boda

 2. Taxi

3. Bus

Each form offers its own unique experience: 

Taxi’s here are 15 passenger vans stuffed to capacity. When I say capacity I don’t mean anything regulation. They will let people in until you think that another person couldn't possibly fit. And then once you get to that point, they fit yet another in!   It is partly funny and partly not. The not part stemming from the fact that none of us shower consistently (even me… but that’s nothing new… whoops sorry mom). So squished and sweaty bodies all together... yum. Also because chickens:

 Last week I felt movement/fluttering on my feet. Near the end of our trip someone stopped to get off and grabbed three bound chickens from underneath. Yikes. I am trying to work through the personal vendetta I have against them. Hate is a strong word, but I am going to use it here anyways.

They are the least best animal on this planet. The good news for them is that I am currently working on loving every aspect of this experience. Even if it means loving the rooster that wakes me up around 5 am every morning.

The last reason for the craziness of the experience is the road conditions. Potholes. Everywhere. Bumpy is one way to describe it. We dodge, swerve, and pray that we’ll make it to our journeys end. So far we’ve avoided any flat tires or other such mishaps.

Smaller Taxis are a little less squished and can make for more entertaining conversation. I was riding back from the Manafwa district with three other people who were eventually headed to Kampala. They were interested in my life and pestered me with questions for the entirety of the ride (one hour). Their favorite subject was marriage. Specifically why I wasn’t married. I reminded them several times that I was only 22 and was thus much too young to be married. They thought this was pretty funny and told me I was going to turn into an old maid! I faked my offense and reassured them I would start working on it as soon as I moved back to America. One of the men said I need not wait until I moved back and proposed marriage to me right then and there. Though it was tempting, I said no. Maybe next time, eh?

A boda is a motorcycle. Boda drivers are everywhere. All you have to do is raise your eyebrows or partially lift a hand and fivedrivers will come racing to your side. A ride across town is 1,000 shillings (about 40 cents). My funniest boda experience came last week as we were driving home for the day. My co-director is Native American and no one understands what that is here. Mostly they just think he is Asian...ish. As we drove behind Brad and his boda my driver yelled behind to me “I am very confused by that man!” I laughed and explained that he was an indigenous person from America. He didn’t get it and just shook his head. 

This last experience is by far the most scenic, enjoyable, and fun. We were traveling to the base of the village where the Zion Community Medical clinic is housed. There is only one very narrow road to this clinic so you have two options: hike or ride.We are American so yea, we choose to ride. Picture 30 minutes of meandering up a mountain on a motorcycle. Really great stuff. The view makes the semi scary experience worth it.

Rachel Wade: experienced seat squisher, level 5 back seat motorcycle rider, and air-conditioned car enthusiast