People in Uganda drive like assassins. They ride motorcycles like witches on brooms. Over the years, bicycles have found their way into the city center and are jostling for tarmac space to die on. It’s like we all really want to become road kill.
Speaking of road kill, we’re totally the most wasteful society inexistence. There’s a steady supply of dog and cat for every household to feast on meat every single day of the year but do we harvest them carcasses? No. We avert eyes and cover mouths in mourning, as if the protein in kitten meat is any different from that in cow meat.
Uganda’s transport system is one big abattoir and every creature has an equal chance of getting minced. How to survive the carnage? Grab a pencil, a notebook.
ON a boda? Learn defensive passengering. From the moment you straddle that boda, you and the rider are a team. Use your eyes to stop motorists from getting dangerously close, your arms as indicators and your voice box to scream disgustedly at other bodas that try to overtake yours. Scowl at those utterly stupid women who wait for traffic to get really thick before bolting across the road with a baby in tow.
Clearly they were eating in class when teacher taught us the formula for crossing roads (look left, right and left again. Or is it the other way round?). This happens mostly in the morning, and I’ve only seen women do it.
Number of times I’ve been in a vehicle that has narrowly missed a toddler’s back? Terrifyingly high.
IN a car? You’re not a wimp for sticking to your line. It doesn’t make you a ninja to crack our few pavements with your old tires. Leave that to the suicidal and hell bound. It’s best to drive like a happy retard, singing along to Judith Babirye or whichever CD it is that has gotten stuck in the car stereo.
Look down your nose at road rage, opting instead to blow kisses at the people who create second lanes and scratch your car. It doesn’t win you any points to drive like the villain in Despicable Me.
Footsubishi? Remember always that nobody really cares about you. The driver hasn’t ‘seen’ you, so don’t saunter across the road with your eyes closed. Next you know, they’ll be merrily rolling across the tarmac. Remember that cars and bodas are liable to invade the sidewalk at any moment and that motorists generally aim for the legs of any woman who has better ones than their wife/girlfriend. It’s either you be constantly ready to skip to the side or you learn the art of landing on your feet.
Also, if your feet are all you have to transport you from A to B, I like you. We’re both broke. Take a moment to feel superior. You are doing the environment a favor by choosing to foot. The kinds of fumes that you release as a result of walking long distances are not at all dangerous for the ozone layer.