Interview Calls at an Ungodly hour.

Every youth in Kampala understands how hard it is to seek fulfilling employment in this day and age especially given the high levels of unemployment prevalent. Early on this year, I was in that very situation having to send my CV in response to positions that had been advertised. However, I came across an opening on Facebook with no organisation listed that my skills seemed well suited to. Even though this is not usually a source for me to seek gainful employment I responded and sent an email to the listed address.

I received confirmation of receipt a day later and then nothing for about 2 weeks and even forgot about it all when, one Saturday evening about 10:15 pm while on my way home I received a call.

Me: “Hello!” I responded after much hesitation in taking the call especially given how late it was.

Lady on Phone: “Hello, you have an interview on Monday.”

Me: “Excuse me?” I responded quite perplexed.

Lady on Phone: “What, I said you have an interview on Monday.”

Me: “Who is this?”

Lady on Phone: “Irene, you have an interview on Monday.”

Me: “Okay, how did you get my number?” I responded very curious as to how this evidently confused individual had my number.

Lady on Phone: “My boss gave me your number and told me to call you.”

Me: “I see, which organization is this?”

Lady on Phone: “Gal…” she said although I could not hear half of what she was saying as her line had a great deal of interference.

Me: “I beg your pardon!”

Lady on Phone: “Gal....” she said but I still could not hear a word.

Me: “I can’t hear clearly, are you sure you have the right number.”

Lady on Phone: “Yes, shaa… what do you mean? Aren't you Tracy?”

Me: “Actually no I am not,” I responded getting rather irritated at this point in time because this crazy person had made me park at the side of the road to take this call.

Lady on Phone: “Ehh, what’s your name?”

Me: “Joyce I responded,” with some hesitation like you would if you were talking to a would be assassin or kidnapper.

Lady on Phone: “Eh anyway, my boss gave me your number to call you for an interview at our office on Monday.”

Me: “I am sorry that will not be possible, you call me and don’t introduce yourself, you address me using different name and then invite me for an interview. Are you sure you have the right person?”

Lady on Phone: “Are you coming for the interview or not?’

Me: “….Do you know what time it is?” I asked with some hesitation.

Lady on Phone: “Ahh … no!”

Me: “10:15 pm on a Saturday night.”

Lady on Phone: “Ah I told you where am calling from, ahhh you are even finishing my airtime.”

Me: “Hhhm goodness alright I will call …”

Before I could finish my sentence her line went dead.

Well am sure that you all know she did not call back and when I realized that Monday was a public holiday, I decided that this must have been a prank call and I brushed it off. Tuesday however was a working day and I went about my morning as I would any Tuesday only to be interrupted by a phone call. I rushed to the phone but I had missed the call and realized I had missed 2 other calls 15 minutes apart from the same number however, when I returned the call no one answered. I did not think much of it until I checked my messages and saw this.

8:10 am

“This is Galooli you are being called for an interview callback.”

I called back 3 more times 30, 45 minutes and an hour later only for my last call to be picked up by a gentleman.

Gentleman: “Hello!”

Me: “Hello, who am I speaking to?”

Gentleman: “Michael from Galooli Uganda.”

Me: “Oh okay, Michael I received 3 calls from this number and was returning the calls but no one seemed to answer for the last 2 hours.”

Gentleman: “Oh sorry, I think it was our admin trying to get in touch with you.”

Me: “I see.”

Gentleman: “She was using my personal line to call you but she is away from her desk.”

Me: “Okay so...”

Gentleman: “I think you have an interview today.”

Me: “I see, I got a call from someone who did not introduce themselves properly but informed me I had an interview yesterday and did not give me the time. Now yesterday was a public holiday.’

Gentleman: “Alright I do not know the program, but when she gets back I will tell her to call you back.”

Me: “Okay, thank you very much Michael. I will wait to hear from her soon, good bye.”

Gentleman: “Goodbye.”

11:15 am

Lady on Phone: “Hello!”

Me: “Hello,” I said as I answered the phone.

Lady on Phone: “You were supposed to come for an interview between 9 and 11.30 am at our office.”

Me: “Well you did not inform me of the time and the organization. I could not hear a word you were saying as your line was not clear. Are you aware what day it is?”

Lady on Phone: “It’s Tuesday.”

Me: “Exactly, you said the interview was on Monday so when the day of an interview changes you call the person and inform them before the actual day. How sure was I that your boss or the interviewer was still available today? So it is 11:15 am what does this mean?”

Lady on Phone: “I don’t know, you were supposed to be here by 11:30 am.”

Me: “I know, its 11:15 am now so … obviously I will not make it in time.”

Lady on Phone: “…...”

All I heard was silence on her end as I heard her begin to talk to other people in the office while I was still on the line. Seeing as I was not going to get an answer and my airtime was being wasted, I hung up and never called back and neither did she.

This is classic case why our Kenyan counterparts are taking all our senior positions in our job market, Ugandans are terrible at follow through and customer service.

Note: Some names of individuals have been changed to protect their identities.

Unleaded Fuel – what is that?

On my last trip to the great Karamoja region, I enjoyed the vast expanses of land and breathtaking scenery of the landscapes along Katakwi, Napak and Moroto. Aside from the dust embedded within each facet of their lifestyle, Moroto town was relatively quiet with the exception of loud Ugandan music played at the small clubs over the weekend.

Today, I am not going to focus on the night scene of Moroto, but a whole other issue that the town is grappling with – fuel scarcity. By scarcity I mean that the town has only two available pumps which sometimes run out of fuel, so when you find it available you had better top up.

We decided to fuel up at the one on the main street of Moroto town since we were informed that fuel scarcity was a common occurrence in this part of Uganda. This station was the worse option of the two near the market area was the better option of the two with the other being very run down, but we only realized this much later.

Before we left Soroti town, we had fueled up but were currently running low after the back and forth journeys we made between Moroto and the Napak district headquarters. As we pulled into the fuel station, we were greeted with silence as we quietly waited for the pump attendant to serve us - however there was none in sight.

After 1 minute of looking around, the wind blew the fuel station office door open and we could see a gentleman seated with a plate of food munching away on something.

 We waited another minute as we tried to make contact with him by waving our hands in the air and calling out to him from our vehicle.

Me: “Sebo, sebo, hello we want to fuel up.”

Nothing worked and it only took the driver jumping out of his seat and moving in his direction to get him out of his seat and he started walking towards us.

Driver: “Sebo do you work here, we want fuel?”

Pump Attendant: “You want fuel?”

Me: “Yes we do!”

Pump Attendant: “Okay,” he responded as he stared at us before another man run out of the office.

The pump attendant’s counterpart pulled him aside as he whispered something in his ear as he watched us intently and a grin accidentally crossed his lips.

Me: “Could you fill the tank?” I yelled in their direction as they had gone a little way off to hold their conversation and yet we were in a hurry.

Pump Attendant: “Fuel is 5,000 Ugx a liter”

Me: “5,000 Ugx, why!” 

Pump Attendant: “You know where you are?”

Me: “What is that supposed to mean?”

Pump Attendant: “This is Moroto?”

Me: “Yes so, not even 4,000 or 4,200 but 5,000?”

After a brief moment of reflection, with the advice of the locals to ensure we fuel up to avoid running out, I decided to heed to their advice and responded.

Me: “Fine fill up the tank.”

Driver: “Sebo put Petrol – unleaded,” he said as he walked back to his side of the car readying himself for takeoff.

Pump Attendant: “huh?”

Now this chap decided to stretch out our fueling experience at his pump so long that given our journey from Soroti and then Napak and back to Moroto, we were exhausted and wanted nothing more than a hot shower and sumptuous meal.

Driver: “Unleaded!” he said as he yelled across from the driver’s side.

Me: “Give us Unleaded sebo, I reiterated since I did not want the pump attendant to feign deafness. After a brief pause coupled with a clueless face he responded,

Pump Attendant: “What is that?”

Bwahahaha! Chuckled the rest of my team travelling who were seated in the back of the van. That was the final straw as the driver responded in frustration.

Driver: “You put what you have we are not going to sleep here.”

After he finished I wanted nothing more than to never see this pump attendant ever again and it is working out pretty well so far.

Me: “Can you give me a receipt?” I said disgusted at how the fuel quantity did not match the number of liters’ I had paid for?”

Pump Attendant: “Huh!”

You all know that conversation went south.

The spaced out Ssese Island lodge proprietor.

I recently had the opportunity to travel to Kalangala for work reasons and I must say it was such a pleasure to be back to the island which I visited briefly about 5 years ago for one night only. 

On my last trip, I used the ferry from the landing site in Entebbe, but this time I was fortunate to use the one in Masaka off Bukakata.

I was pleasantly surprised at how relatively punctual the ferries are that ply the route to and from the island 5 times a day at 7:00am, 9:00am, 11:00am, 1:00pm and 3:00pm. We were a little late but fortunate to catch the ferry which delayed loading motor vehicles on the island as it was on its way to Bukakata. As my team and I got onto the ferry, we were all extremely surprised that only our names and telephone numbers’ were jotted down for itinerary and no single coin was requested for fare. In addition, the journey to Ssese Island took only 20 minutes from Masaka on MV Ssese as opposed to the 3hours the last time I travelled on MV Kalangala via Entebbe. The ferry was very clean; the crew was smart, helpful and courteous even when my crew requested to take pictures the captain obliged with barely any fuss.

When we disembarked MV Ssese, I was taken aback at how much development had taken place since my last visit; with the extensive road works, the solar plant that powers the entire island completed and hectares of oil palm on the hills and slopes of the island. All this development was in stark comparison to the only 2 fuel station pumps on the main street of the island.

We arrived at sun down owing to our late departure of 5:00 pm from Bukakata and after getting our schedule for the following day sorted; we sought lodging as we decided to also experience the island by night. We visited hotels cottages, lodges and cabins that had either lodging or meals not both and when I asked about the food this is the response got.

Me: “Hello, how are you?”

Lodge proprietor: “I am fine.”

Me: “I am looking for accommodation for 5 people but would like to have that with full board.”

Lodge proprietor: “Full what!”She said.

Me: “Full board,” I responded politely.

Lodge proprietor: “wanji, hhhmm.”

Me: “Accommodation and breakfast.”

Lodge proprietor: “This is what we have,” she said as she took me to the front of her establishment to look at the quad bikes that were parked in a pen at the front of her establishment with a restaurant overhead.

Me: “Okay, I mean do you have accommodation and food – bed and breakfast for 5 people?”

Lodge proprietor: “I have only food.” She said as she walked back to her seat with a nonchalant look on her face.

Me:  “What kind of food?’

Lodge proprietor: “Continental menu!” she said in a cut way.

Me: “Okay, no local food at all?”

Lodge proprietor: “No!”

Me: “And what about accommodation?”

Lodge proprietor: “No accommodation, but there is accommodation down there. You can eat here and sleep there,” she said as she pointed across the main road to a little dingy looking establishment.

Me: “Okay, thank you,” I said in response as I walked away shaking my head on disbelief.

So then I thought to myself, she expects my team and I to wake up at the wee hours of the morning to cross over from our rooms to the breakfast area and then cross back to pick equipment before we could head out for the day’s activities. That was not going to happen.

The long story cut short we made 2 phone calls and got a recommendation of a good place right by the beach called Brovad Sands Lodge. 

The food was on point, the customer service was awesome and the manager was alert although it was pricy. That aside owing to my negotiation skills and the sizeable group I was travelling with, I managed to get a discount for our stay and every shilling was well worth it.

On the day of our departure, we intended to catch the 7:00 am ferry and so the manager of the lodge advised us to be at the dining at 5.30 am latest but when I got downstairs I did not expect his team to be ready or even awake. 

As I walked into the dining area, a lady seated in the corner shot out of her seat and headed straight to where I stood as she said;

Assistant Manager: “Good morning Mum, what will you be having for breakfast?”

People, great customer service exists within this beloved country of ours although I must add it I went all the way to Kalangala to find it but it was well worth the wait.

DFCU Banking Hall Etiquette

Many a time you have been in a situation where you need to make a quick dash to and from the bank in the middle of a hectic work day. This trip to the bank should be relatively seamless aside from the fact that you live in Uganda a third world country where the number of cars exceeds the available facilities for parking or driving within Kampala’s city center and outskirts. However this is a discussion for a whole other post, allow me to focus on my recent trip to the banking hall.

As I walked into DFCU Bank Acacia Avenue, I rushed to the general area where I could quickly fill out my check details and head for one of the 5 tills in the service area. When I got there I found a queue of about 6 people and even though I was in a hurry I decided to wait patiently in my spot. I sat down in one of the chairs as 3 other people quickly filled the remaining seats that were behind mine.

5 minutes later

It was 5:35pm and the lady seated just before me began to grumble under her breath how it was possible that only 3 out of the 5 service counters could not be serving anyone. I shared her displeasure but as I looked at my watch it occurred to me that the rest of the tellers must be balancing their books on the days’ transactions in the back office as they constantly interrupted the front office counterparts with pleas for them to break the bigger notes into smaller denominations. However, my neighbor was having none of it.

Neighbor on right: ‘Where are these people? They think we want to stay here all day?’ she said as she shot up and paced back and forth to each till just to make sure that none of them was open even though we could clearly see that they were not.

She eventually sat down for less than 1 minute before attempting to jump queue and rush past the people ahead of us in line - It did not work.

Silence (5 minutes later)

Neighbor on right: ‘Eh owaye, I am not going to sleep here!’ she said as she shot out of her seat and headed back to the customer care desk.

While she was away a mature Moslem male in prayer garb arrived and took the last seat available in queue as 1 individual at the service area had successfully completed their transaction.  My neighbor returned to the queue but not in her designated spot she stood behind the last individual (the Moslem man) and began to speak loudly to someone in the distance and the general direction from whence she came.

Neighbor on right: ‘Njagale okugenda nyabo, jangu onyambe!’ she said to the customer care lady from a distance.

Please note that this former neighbor of mine was not elderly and was in no way in any dire health condition so I did not see why she was causing such a fracas. The customer care lady stepped away from her desk and walked to the lady took check leaf out of her hand and handed it to the gentleman at the till closest to where they stood in full view of us all. Then interestingly, the mature aged Moslem man in prayer garb also waved his hand toward her.

Moslem man: ‘Muwala, kwata check,’ he said pretty softly as he answered a telephone call and stepped aside for privacy.

Please note that out of the 9 of us in queue 7 had checks for withdrawals just like the 2 of them but we all sat quietly since the gentleman who received the checks still had a customer in his seat. However, my former neighbor did not take her seat and continued to stand right behind the customer being attended to as she fraternized with the customer care lady who still stood next to her. At this point it was pretty evident that she was well acquainted with or even friends with the customer care agent.

A short while later, the customer left and my former neighbor slid into the seat as the customer care agent went back to her service area. As the minutes progressed many of the individuals in line passively expressed their displeasure on what was going on but before anything could be done, the Moslem man returned from taking another call just in time to get into her seat.

Neighbor on the left: ‘Kyoka this girl, hhmm’

Me: ‘hihihihi’ I chuckled under my breath

Neighbor on the left: But what is going on with these people?’

Me: ‘I think we are invisible.’

Neighbor on the left: ‘What they are doing is very improper.’

Me: ‘Yes, but not many Ugandans were taught manners,’

Neighbor on the left: ‘Especially the younger generation.’

Me: ‘Let us hope that no one else follows suit.’

Neighbor on the left: ‘Yes.’

Now my neighbor to the left (which means she followed me in the queue) was not out to witch hunt any young people but she was clearly advanced in age and thus all of us present within her vicinity qualified as young people, the Moslem man inclusive. She is also quite the notable figure and I definitely knew who she was but I was greatly moved at how down to earth and posed she is. Most people in her shoes would not have queued up but she is a different breed of celebrity.

I was honored to have been seated next to Mama Mbire may you all teach your daughters and sons etiquette and manners, no amount of money is worth leaving them to the devices of the world to condition them.

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.