The Ugandan lady who stole my seat on the bus from Kenya.

Last December, I enjoyed the opportunity to travel back from Kenya to Uganda using the night bus from 6:00 pm – 6:00.  I was dreading the trip back given how tiring I knew it would make me, but all I could do was walk up the stairs to get into the bus’ VIP section. 

As I did, I was greeted by a light skinned mature aged lady munching away at a chicken wing of her take out. I was puzzled because I was sure she was in my seat so I turned around and asked the person I was travelling with for confirmation.

Me: ‘Hey, which seats are we in?’ I asked as I turned around to face him.

Travel Companion: ‘The 2 front seats on the left hand side of the VIP section.’

Me: ‘Okay, well we have company.’

Travel Companion: ‘What do you mean?’ he said in response as he peered over my shoulder as the conductor nudged us forward so we could depart.

Mature aged Lady: ‘Eh negomba ekyenyanja,’ she shouted across the aisle oblivious to our presence. She was shouting to a younger gentleman we later found out was her travelling companion.

Conductor: ‘Eh bwana twendekazi, we have to go Kampala,’ he said in a bid to hasten our footsteps so we could get seated and leave Nairobi.

Travel Companion: ‘Nyabo you are in our seat, look at our tickets. Can you please move to your seat?’

She ignored us for the most part and the conductor got tired of waiting for us to get seated so he closed the door and signaled to the driver to hit the road.

Travel Companion: ‘Madam, we really need to take our seats we paid for VIP for a reason.’

Mature aged Lady: ‘Mubere wali ne mulinda male enkoko yange,’ she said in response with not so much as a look in our direction.

In that instance as she said those words I smiled and thought, even when you are miles away from home a Ugandan will always be and act like a Ugandan.  Even though they may not necessarily look like Ugandans and you least expect to run into them.

Now at this point we had been standing in the aisle for about 3 minutes, looking like fools as we waited for her to get up and move into her seat. At this very instance, the bus flew out of the parking area and we nearly toppled over so I asked my travel companion to take her official seat across the aisle as I sat next to her and waited for this to get sorted out. It took the lady about 20 minutes to finish her meal as my travel companion could be heard grumbling audibly in the distance.

Travel Companion: ‘I do not understand why we get seat numbers if they cannot be enforced by the bus company.’

Me: ‘Calm down.’

Travel Companion: ‘Conductor, why do I pay for a VIP seat if I am not going to enjoy it?’

He looked in my travel companion’s direction for a moment but then turned away and headed to the back to begin to serve the snacks to the rest of the passengers.

Travel Companion: ‘I am not using Simba coach again.’

Me: ‘Let it go.’

The ladies travel companion (the younger male) seated across the aisle next to my travel companion responded ‘Let her finish her food and then she will move, she told you she will move.’ This was said in a luganda accent.

Travel Companion: ‘Yes but this discomfort could have been avoided.’

Mature aged Lady: ‘Eh nkuse!” she said as she jumped out of the seat next to me and I excused her as she exchanged seats with my travel companion about 30 minutes after we hit the road.

I was glad that my pal could now take his seat next to me, we could chat and watch a movie, but one thing the old lady did not tell me when she moved was that she had left me the fried carcass of her chicken at my feet. I was annoyed but decided that I should be thankful enough that she had finally moved to her seat and I was now able to charge my phone using the socket just below my widow.

It is safe to say the rest of my journey back home was smooth sailing.

Late bar chit chat with a Kenyan lawyer

Recently while on my trip to Kenya late last year, I had the opportunity to enjoy a little bit of the night life that the country had to offer when I visited Picolina in South B with a few friends. I am usually a stay at home and watch a movie kind of girl, but this time I decided to enjoy as much of Kenya as I could since my trip was very brief. 

On the last night of my trip in Kenya, my friends and host convinced me to go out to eat some by Nyama choma at Picolina a nearby pub.

 I settled for the roast goat with a soft drink as I enjoyed the loud music being played over multiple speakers. As I sat on the outside at the counter overlooking the parking area, I enjoyed the company of my solely male escort of 3 for 3 hours.

The night seemed to be going very well up until the latest member of our party arrived rather late and began to cause mayhem.  This is owing to the fact that he had consumed a little too much alcohol and he was not one to handle his liquor. He nearly caused a fight as 2 of my friends from my company of 3 who had taken me out; moved him aside and attempted to calm him down as the other broke up the fight.   

As all this was going on, I was left unattended for about 30 minutes which gave an older gentleman seated at the extreme end of the bar an opportunity to talk to me. He was no younger than 36 or 37 and walked right up to me taking the seat previously occupied by one of my friends.  

Older Gentleman: "Hello, I am Paul," said the tall medium build man wearing a brown leather jacket,  light cream dress with a pair of dark fitted jeans .

Me: "Hello Paul," I said without even looking in his direction. 

Older Gentleman: “I have waited patiently to talk to you all evening, but you had many small boys around you and I did not want to be rude." 

Me: "Really, why?"  I responded politely as I struggled to hold back a grin owing to his referral of my company as young boys. 

Older Gentleman: "I appreciate the way you carry yourself.  It takes a very confident woman to keep her hair short and not cover her face in make up in this day and age." 

Me: "Thank you." 

Older Gentleman: "It is a vice that all these woman of today who do not appreciate their true African beauty with weaves and hair extensions in odd colours they purchase for thousands of shillings." 

Me: "Thank you for the compliment," I said as I looked away in the direction of my friends who were still attempting to calm down their sottish counterpart. 

Older Gentleman: " I did not mean to be to forward but I want to bring you to back to Kenya." 

Me:  "Hihihi, and who said I am not in Kenya," I said as I let out a hearty chuckle. 

Older Gentleman: "You do not seem like you are Kenyan. I can tell after all - I am Kenyan." 

Me: "I need to get back to my friends." 

Older Gentleman: "My apologies for keeping you but it seems they are still quite busy at the moment. So if you don't mind I can keep you company as they finish," he said this as he pointed in their direction. 

At this point, I could see my friends grabbing the drunken Ugandan fellow (the late comer of our party) and holding him back from another Kenyan man. 

Older Gentleman: "That is the problem of keeping company of young boys. They are very immature and I don't see how they will keep you engaged." "Well I did not officially introduce myself; I am Paul a lawyer here in Kenya.  I live here but work across East Africa and you what do you do? " 

Me: "It is a pleasure, I am in marketing." 

Older Gentleman: "You sound Ugandan!  I was in Ugandan a year and a half ago for the NSSF case and will be back next week to pick up my payment." "You see the government of Uganda owes me 25,000 US Dollars for the case that they lost against me."  

We then discussed the politics surrounding the appointment of the new NSSF chairman and board as well as the Ugandan procurement process and political scene for a couple of minutes much to his delight. 

Older Gentleman: "Beauty and brains - that is a very difficult combination to find.  Your friends seem to be making headway; I would very much like to continue this discussion with you at leisure with no interruptions. Here is my card give me a call, when do you leave?"

Me: "Tomorrow evening with a couple of friends."

Older Gentleman: "Too bad we were only getting acquainted, but if you could reconsider and leave a day later …."

Me: "No I really need to get back to some work Monday morning before I break off for the Christmas holiday."

Older Gentleman: "Okay but I would have really loved to show you around. Listen, why don’t  you stay an extra night so I can show you around Nairobi. I will fly you out on Monday morning - my treat."

Me: "Thank you that is a very generous offer but I really need to travel back with my party."

Older Gentleman: "Alright if you insist, well could you call me tomorrow before you leave?"

Me: "Okay."

Older Gentleman: "Do you have a Kenyan number I can take down or …," he said as I cut him off.

Me: "Yes, but my Safaricom line network is terrible at my hotel, it has issues with the connection. Give me yours and I will give you a call."

Older Gentleman: "Here is my card. I look forward to chatting with you tomorrow and seeing you when I come to Kampala next week. You could show me around."

Me: "Okay have a good evening."

As soon as I turned away he got up, paid for his tab and left for his Range Rover which was parked in the VIP section near the exit and he quickly drove away. My company came back to our seating area and sat down to order drinks after over 40 minutes, I thought to myself what a very blunt and confident man and then in 5 minutes I decided  it was time for me to leave to get a good night’s sleep. None of my friends had any idea what had happened over those 40 minutes aside from the waiter who was smiling at m from across the room since he had watched the whole thing.

Oh Kenya, you really got me thinking.

The Kenyan bartender’s exotic bride.

As I enjoyed my trip to Kenya a week before Christmas, little did I know that it would be such an education on how different people are and how varied their culture is. It does not matter how close they live to each other, there is a yearning to experience another person’s way of life. One such experience was the one I had while at the Bounty hotel somewhere in Nairobi - South B, where I stayed for the entire duration of my visit.

I did not leave my room for most of my stay while at the hotel but decided to the morning of my departure. The hotel bartender was very chatty and this was equally matched with his outgoing nature that I took no notice of until the day I was leaving for Kampala. On this occasion, I decided to come down for breakfast and sat right in front of his bar area to watch some news on the screen adjacent to his area. I made my order for breakfast and decided to go the full nine yards which was toast, African tea, sausage, omelette, fruit salad and fresh juice. Little did I know how interesting this conversation would be but then again what did I expect; since I had heard the tales of how bartenders know everyone’s secrets.  So I assume it takes a good one to entertain guests and keep them as regulars at a particular bar.

Bartender: ‘Hello, I have seen you around here?’

Me: ‘No I usually have my breakfast in my room and I am not one for alcohol so I have not visited your bar section.’

Bartender: ‘Oh really, you don’t drink alcohol.’

Me: ‘No that’s why I am usually seated on the other side at the food court.’

Bartender: ‘Yes, that is where I saw you. Well you do not sound like you are from here?’

Me: ‘No.’

Bartender: ‘Are you from Uganda?’

Me: ‘Why would you think that?’

Bartender: ‘Ugandan ladies dress nicely and look nice.’

Me: ‘Yes I am but you already seem biased with your love for Ugandan women.’

Bartender: ‘Yes I want a woman from Uganda.’

Me: ‘Why?’

Bartender: ‘For that exotic feel that she is not form here (Nairobi or Kenya).’

Me: ‘Hihihi, so what is the difference I thought a woman is a woman anywhere?’

As I asked this my Kenyan guide (friend) arrived in time to take me around for some last minute shopping before I was scheduled to leave for Kampala.

Kenyan Guide: ‘Good morning, I hope you slept well. He should tell you the real reason why he wants a Ugandan woman.’

Now my Kenyan friend is the one who recommended the hotel so he was very familiar with the staff and was a regular at the bar especially with his ardent love for Tusker.

Bartender: ‘Hihihi they look nice, don’t you see your friend.’

Kenyan Guide: ‘No bwana, the real reason you told me about the last time we talked. Didn’t you say you want a ganda.’

Me: ‘Oh you mean a Muganda why?’

Bartender: ‘Because they are very well behaved and she will kneel down for me when I get home.’

I could not help myself and burst out laughing when I heard this, I had waited patiently for some grand well orchestrated answer only to receive this one. At the end of the day all he wanted was respect and submission and those are aspects he felt he could not find in a Kenyan woman.

Me: ‘Well, yes they do kneel down out of respect – but those are the ones brought up in a traditional setting. But I must warn you there will be need for you to have a traditional marriage ceremony and that will cost you.’

Bartender: ‘Oh akina bride price?’

Me: ‘Yes. For the Baganda/ Ganda it is things like vegetables, traditional dresses and gifts customary to their culture. Occasionally the father of the bride will ask for one high priced item like a fridge or sofa set.’

Bartender: ‘Oh okay so that is about 50,000 bob (Kenyan shilling) max.’

Me: ‘Yes about or higher,’ I responded after quickly doing the math.

Bartender: ‘So are you a Ganda?’

Me: ‘No I am a Ugandan Luo.’

Bartender: ‘Luo!’ he responded while almost screaming for the entire bar.

Me: ‘Yes.’

Bartender: ‘So do you speak Kiswahili or your mother tongue fluently?’

Me: ‘I do not speak Kiswahili, but I do speak my mother tongue fluently and can understand a bit of Kenyan Luo.’

From that point onwards, the conversation went on in Luo much to the disappointment of my Kenyan tour guide/ pal who is not Luo.

Kenyan Guide: ‘Eh atti now you are speaking Luo ehh so I am not part of the conversation ehh.’

His complaints fell on deaf ears as the bartender continued with our conversation like he was not even there.

Bartender: ‘I will be visiting Uganda in June; I need someone to show me around.’

Me: ‘I am not much of a party animal but I can get you someone to show you around.’

Bartender: ‘So are you available? I do not see a ring on your hand?’

Me: ‘No I am not available, I responded as is smiled.

Bartender: ‘Okay then you can get me your younger sister?’

Me: ‘Nope all my sisters are married anyway and I am the last born.’ ‘I also believe a man should look for his own woman,’ I said as I stood up and excused myself since I had to check out with my bags.

The bartender grinned as I got up from my seat and extended his hand in a hand shake as he wished me a safe trip back home.

2.00 am solicitation on Kampala’s streets

I often write on issues affecting the every day Ugandan, from topics to do with transportation, revenue and DMV (Driving Permit registration) as well as cultural experiences.   

However this time allow me to share my thoughts on a completely different topic. This is one that is not spoken much on and yet can be experienced in the early hours of the morning on our streets within Kampala city and notably Kabalagala suburbs.

One such night we rushed to Entebbe international airport at 9:00 pm to pick a family member who was scheduled to arrive on a flight coming in at 1:00 am. We were both excited and anxious to make it on time because we did not want to arrive late and make her sit in the airport waiting area after such a long flight. Luckily we beat the Entebbe road traffic mayhem and arrived 10 minutes to her arrival time. We rushed to the arrival area only to get there and check the screen and see ‘1 HOUR DELAY,’ for the specific flight she was on.  A little frustrated that we had an hour to kill at Entebbe airport, but we were relieved that we were there and so we resorted to 
looking for a way to occupy our time. However, that one hour in the Entebbe International airport waiting area is another escapade of its own for an entirely different blog. 

After the hour, there was an additional delay for check out since a Kenya Airways flight arrived just before hers but we eventually hit the road heading to Kampala shortly after 1:00 am. The better part of the journey went without incident until we got to the city center around Sheraton Hotel and down the road along Fairway hotel. As we got here my sister who we picked from the airport noticed pedestrians on the side walk about 100 meters apart in dark colours almost disappearing into the background given how dark Kampala streets are at night at 2:00 am.

My sister from abroad: ‘What are these people doing by the side of the road this late at night?’

Me: ‘Which ones?’

My sister from abroad: ‘These ones ehh.. ehhh but look at what they are wearing? That one over there is literally naked.’

Me: ‘They are ladies of the night.’

My sister from abroad: ‘So they just stand here and parade themselves at the side of the road scantily clad with their underwear showing?’

My sister driving: ‘Yup!’

My sister from abroad: ‘Eh... look at this one he has stopped right in front of one. What is he doing?’  she said as she pointed at the vehicle a couple of meters ahead of us.

Now I pulled forward from my seat where I had comfortably reclined to get a better view of what she was pointing at. My other sister who was driving slowed down since the driver ahead of us had come to a complete stop right in front of one of these ladies at the side of the road.

Me: ‘Talking to her,’ I said innocently.

My sister driving: ‘He is soliciting for her services.’

My sister from abroad: ‘When did this start on the streets of Kampala? Is it even legal?’

Me: ‘No it is not but it continues to happen.’

We slowed down as we continued to approach the Golf course round about due to the Subaru right in front of us whose occupant was having a conversation with one of the ladies. He did not seem bothered by us approaching until we were within 40 meters when our front lights hit his vehicle and cast its  light against his number plate and we could also confirm that it was a gentleman driving. Before we could indicate to over take him on the side he backed away from the curb of the side walk and sped off much to our surprise. It did not make sense initially for the first few seconds and then it did and we all began to laugh in the car with the exception of my sister from abroad.

My sister from abroad: ‘Ehh now where is he running, who chased him?’ she said.

This was owing to the fact that the Subaru driver had sped off and in a bid to create some distance between us and him since I assume he was embarrassed to be seen soliciting a prostitute. As my other sister and I continued to laugh, we slowly passed by the lady of the night he had been chatting up only for her to hurl insults at us.

Me: ‘I wonder where he is flying off to now,’ I said as I giggled and pulled up my window expectant that a random object may be thrown at me from the lady of the night.

My sister driving: ‘Let’s see how far he will run away from us,’ she said as she accelerated and ensued in a chase.

The occupant of the Subaru pulled on to Acacia Avenue flying almost as if we were on a race track. We eventually caught up to him between DFCU Acacia branch and Bubbles Pub where he slowed down due to the multitude of night owls (revelers) who were looking parking.  As he pulled to the left side of the street looking for parking, we got alongside him on the right and as we passed by him I pulled down my window to get a better look.

When I caught sight of him I was rather happy to find that his window (the driver’s side) was pulled all the way down so I whispered, ‘hello rally driver.’

My sister from abroad on the other hand was too shocked by the entire experience but managed to shout out of her window, ‘Go back we were not chasing you, go back.’

The expression on his face was priceless after which we sped off with us all laughing hysterically. Now I completely agree with the statement – nothing good happens after midnight and in our case 2.30 am.

Kwanjula somewhere close to the Malaba border

After I thought that I was done with all my functions for this year, I was surprised by yet another where I had to travel to Malaba close to the border to escort a close family friend for introduction to his girl’s family. 

I expected nothing less than excitement and fan fare but the start of the day was proving to be much less entertaining.

We arrived at the home of his fiancés parents, only to be told that they needed a few minutes to prepare for us. A few minutes turned out to be approximately 20 minutes to half an hour before we were welcomed and ushered in. The entire time we were in line I wondered to myself why brides are always frantic before their grooms arrive because we had been called not less than 5 times before our arrival. We were told we were late only to arrive just 15 minutes short of the scheduled time and then they were not. Anyway I digress, so we walked in and waited to be told to take our seats only for a lady bearing an official tag to tell us to sit down.

Me: ‘Are you sure?’

Lady Official: ‘Yes, you can sit down.’

So we sat down but not even 10 seconds passed before I felt a tag at the arm of my busuti by one of the people in our party.  

Best man: ‘We have not been told to sit down.’

I obliged but was rather annoyed at these Kwajula tests and antics that I had completely forgotten about probably owing to overload of events I have already attended this year as well as the drive from Kampala early that morning. The program commenced albeit rather slowly with a few tunes being churned out by the DJ as the first group of girls came to greet. The sad thing is that the entire time the group of girls was walking to their places to greet us the music kept skipping and this happened over and over. 

This happened so much so that after greeting the girls sat on the mat in front of us for about 15 minutes as we waited for their microphone to be turned on or the mishap with the music to be sorted out. After an awkward silence and patient wait, a loud thud was heard as the tune “gamba ku jeniffer’ strummed away for a couple of seconds before it was abruptly cut off only to be replaced with ‘Sitya loss song’ the new equally inappropriate one.

DJ madness aside, we decided to enjoy the day no matter what followed but nothing prepared us for this. There was a cultural troop that came to entertain us in dance and song and we were delighted to soak up as much of the local culture as we could. As the dancers came around the corner of the host’s tent, we were happy and clapped in unison to show our gratitude but the clapping died down as we took notice of the last dancer. It was a gentleman in a skirt (probably with a pair of shorts underneath) and a spaghetti top with a bra underneath.

Most of you may be wondering ‘How did you know that he had a bra underneath the spaghetti top?’

My response; ‘Because the black top was ill fitting and the white bra was peeping through the top.’

Now if any of you thought this was the highlight of the day, then you do not know what you missed when you did not tag along for this event. The accompanying crew continued to play their instruments as the dancers danced off behind the tent from which they came since the DJ’s equipment had failed to recover the entire day. So as we enjoyed listening to the xylophone and flute which were punctuated by a male vocalist we could not understand, we lost interest as we broke up into groups and began to converse amongst ourselves.

A while later at the climax of this musical piece, we were startled to hear the vocalist scream loudly saying, ‘I miss you, I care for you, I welcome you...’

We began to shout in response at every pause but nothing prepared us for his final lines.

Male vocalist: ‘I love you, I want you, I touch you....’

At this point all the old men who had escorted the groom responded ehhhh and the vocalist continued to escalate these intimate sentiments in song.

Male vocalist: ‘I kiss you, I touch you....’

Here every one visitor and host alike burst out in laughter as some even stood to give the gentleman a hand clap as he ended his piece. All the girls rose from the mat from whence they had been greeting; blushing and I can confidently say that there was not a dry eye in the audience from the roars of laughter.   

The other side of the Ugandan taxi driver.

Every one of us is thankful for the sacrifice that our parents made to ensure that we attained a good education to support the living and lifestyle that we enjoy today. However, don’t think that everyone has the same dreams to go through school and go into traditional employment system of 8am to 5 pm daily.

 I have run into factory workers who read Shakespeare literature on their down time and are finalizing with their thesis in order to graduate from the university. The taxi driver who is well educated, uses Whatsapp and owns 5 taxis at the local stage. Do not think that the taxi driver you are sitting next to in the front seat of that often filthy car is illiterate and has no hope and dreams of his own, you will be greatly surprised.

Here is one such encounter that will changed the way you approach people.

Me: ‘Wasuzotya sebo,’ I said to the driver as I jumped into the front seat next to him. (How did you sleep – Also means good morning)

Taxi Driver: ‘Bulungi mwana, how are you.’ (Fine thank you, girl)

I could only afford to grin in shock at the seamless transition from Luganda (local language commonly used by the majority of the population in Uganda) to English. I was wearing a pair of jeans that day so I assume he felt it suitable to adapt his use of language to suit this chance encounter.

After about 400 meters, I felt my phone vibrate and pulled it out to take a call and respond to a few emails before safely returning it back to my bag.

Taxi Driver: ‘Mwana, ehh simu yo enyuma.’ (Eh, your phone looks nice)

Me: ‘Webale okusima.’ (Thank you for appreciating.) At this point I tightened hold at the straps of my hand bag because I had become paranoid that he may hit me senseless and make off with it. I know a few of you must be laughing, but you cannot blame me for being paranoid after all the horror stories I have heard.

Taxi Driver: ‘So what do I do to also get a phone like yours?’

Me: ‘You work very hard.’

Taxi Driver: ‘Eh!” I smiled as he responded because of the face he made as he responded.

A few minutes later I was about to alight when with no warning I heard him say..

Taxi Driver: ‘Kale mwana, let me go and work have so I can also have some swagger.’ (Okay girl…)

This did not entirely change my perceptions of taxi drivers but allowed me to remember that they are also human beings who seek to enjoy the finer things in life and not all are ill mannered and crass.

Then on another completely different occasion, I stood at a bust stop waiting to be picked up by a colleague for a meeting, only for a couple of taxis to pull up in front of me.

Conductor 1: ‘Nyabo ogenda?’ (Madam are you heading in our direction/ are you going?’

Conductor 2: ‘Sister yanguwako tugende mu towuni.’ (Sister hurry up so that we can go to town.)

Me: ‘Neda sebo,’ (No, sir) I swiftly responded as I shook my head from side to side and stayed firmly planted where I was. A few passenger jumped out of the taxi as I continued to typed away on my screen.

Conductor 2: ‘Ahh tumuleke nanti ali ku Facebook.’ (Ah let’s leave her she is on Facebook)

I could not help but smile as I keyed away on my phone waiting patiently for my ride to arrive while the rest of the passengers began to peep through their windows to catch sight of me as the taxi sped off.

So as you go about your business remember to take each person as they present themselves and don’t throw around blanket judgments, you really never know who may actually surprise you.