getting to know kampala.

October 18^th, 2010

At long last, I have found a place to rest my head at night. After looking at hostels, hotels, houses and apartments, I have settled in at old military barracks built by Idi Amin in the 1970s. A couple of other guys, an Aussie and an American, have agreed to let me the flat for my time here. A bit dodgy looking from the outside, but the inside is quite satisfactory. A little heavy on the mosquitoes, but other than that I really can’t complain. But I mustn’t get too settled, as I just found out today that AMREF wants me to go to the north, to the Pader district, on Sunday through until the end of November.  There is a water and sanitation project coming to an end and they have asked me to ‘document its closing out.’ Can’t be sure what this entails right now, but I am eager to see another part of the country and experience life outside of the big city. I keep hearing how so much different the village life is from the city. Up until this point I have been working out of the Country Office, in Kampala, assisting in the research and design of an HIV/AIDS prevention proposal.

Kampala is slowly becoming more familiar, and I am slowly becoming more comfortable getting around the city.  When I arrived, the first few days I was scared to step on to the street. The traffic is like nothing I have ever seen for so many reasons. There are four traffic lights in the entire city, and half of the vehicles don’t obey. There are no lanes, or stop signs, or common road etiquette. The first couple days I thought it was pure chaos, without any sort of direction or order at all. I have now realized that it is chaos, but there is some sort of understanding among the drivers, which I cannot begin to explain through a blog. Because there is such lack of structure, rush hour (or the jam) is far worse than anything I have seen back home. And when it rains, forget about getting anywhere. It took me nearly two hours, to get 8 kilometres across the city after work today. It took another friend 3 hours and she only made it half way.

Bodas, or motocycle taxis, are the quickest means of getting around, but certainly not the safest. Every day I hear another story of someone who has had a terrible accident on the boda. But riding them is almost unavoidable, especially in the jam, because they can manoeuvre through the cars and get you where you need to be quicker than anything else. Needless to say I have been on the look out for a helmet, at which point I won’t feel like I am risking my life every time I get on one.  

A couple people have been asking for pictures, and to be honest, I haven’t taken one. I will, in time, and hopefully there will be some coming soon.