The Rasta taxi driver versus the sauna Corporate

Taxis are my sanctuary for comic relief after a long and stressful day but this statement causes many to turn their heads every time this statement escapes from my lips. Anyway let me get back to telling my story, one evening I entered a taxi as I was heading home I found that our driver was a dreadlocked Rasta and this led my stereo types to set in as I expected this to me a very loud and uncomfortable ride. Let me paint you a mental picture of what I expected - whiffs of some kind of funky smell in the air from a joint/ blunt (marijuana as it is commonly known by youth of our day), an uncultured driver and some very loud reggae music. However, much to my surprise the driver was extremely polite, asked his conductor whether there was anyone coming out at every stage we approached while his radio played at a moderate level. There were no fumes of any sort in the interior of our taxi and I was very glad especially given that I am a non smoker.

So as we headed to Ntinda, we got to Hardware world and there was a jam that caused our driver to veer off from the main route and use the side roads common to taxis so as not to be caught in traffic for hours. As the driver exited the main road, we flew from side to side give the uneven surface of all Ugandan side roads, it was as we were a few meters from the Ntinda stage that I heard a familiar song playing in the back ground. Right as I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward struggling to hear the song, the driver raised the volume and I realized that the song playing was ‘All of me’ by John Legend. I smiled as I thought to myself and nearly said out aloud, “This driver has got style.”

We got to the stage without incident aside from the Rasta taxi driver giving the street preacher who stood in the island at the crossroad of Kiwatule – Ntinda, Kisaasi – Nakawa a high 5. I grinned from ear to ear happy and amused that with all my preconceived notions I was wrong for a change and I was glad but in the next instance I was completely spot on.

I decided to go to a sauna at a health club 2 days later to get back some of sanity and let off some steam after the rigorous schedule over the last couple of months. As I headed to the ladies wing to change into more appropriate attire to get into the sauna room, I decided not to prejudge any one I could and would possibly meet that day. After all I had been pleasantly surprised by the Rasta taxi driver who was well mannered and had an exquisite taste in music. I took a brief shower and got dressed and headed into the sauna expecting to zone out and enjoy this quiet time I assumed I would have to myself; given that I had gone there pretty early in the afternoon to beat the usual crowd.

It was a pretty normal afternoon aside from the fact that there was a group of 4 middle aged more women who went into the sauna as a pack and held conversation well above everyone else in the local Gishu dialect. But even they with their disrobing while in the sauna and scrubbing of each other’s back and chest area, I decided not to let them rob me of my peace of mind. There was not much activity as I enjoyed about 2 – 3 rounds of the sauna with 10 – 20 minute breaks in-between but for a middle aged man who I could see at the side of my eye constantly staring at me whenever I got out but I had refused to look in his direction.

I re-entered the sauna and I was glad that the noisy pack of women that I encountered earlier had left. I sat there for approximately 5 minutes as the other occupant walked out to take a break, then walked in the middle aged man with a bit of a belly who had been staring at me and I later found to be corporate from the manner and nature in which he engaged me in the conversation that ensued. There was as a subtle but firm hint of persistence that I felt in his voice every time he spoke to me and it riled me up.

5 – 10 minutes into the session

Male Corporate: “Ehh it is really hot in here!” he commented aloud.

Me: …………… (I responded to this with silence as I did not see the need to respond to his comment since it was not directed to me even though we were the only 2 people in the room.)

Male Corporate: “Isn’t it hot for you?”

Me: “I am used to it.”

Male Corporate: “So do you work out from this gym?”

Me: “No!”

Male Corporate: “Do you come here often?”

Me: “Not really.”

Male Corporate: “You seem quite fit, where do you work out from?”

Me: “Home.”

Male Corporate: “Oh so your place is around here?”

Me: “………….” (Silence because I realized that this corporate was attempting to chat me with a how is the weather type of scenario.)

I remained calm and silent and hoped that he would take the hint and let me be but I guess this fellow had a few loose screws upstairs.

Male Corporate: “You must be very disciplined in your work out.”

Me: “…………”

Male Corporate: “So do you work out alone?” he asked this as he moved closer to me and he leaned to the side so as to be closer to me.

Another gentleman walked in and I took the cue to exit since my 20 minute session was up and I needed to be well on my way.

Me: I paused for a minute and the responded, “Yes I get a better work out that way.”

Then with a grin on my face I got up and walked to the door and let myself out and did not think much of it until I was out of the shower and fully dressed. As I crossed past the rest area right outside the sauna rooms I saw him sitting alert looking from side to side intently watching the doors every time they opened only to see me walk out from the changing area and exit the sauna area to the gym heading to the exit. He stared in my direction baffled at what had just happened and I could see a look of displeasure on his at the one who got away.

Boda boda men are handy and imbeciles all at once.

Have you ever been pressed for time and need to get somewhere urgently? Everyone knows how that feels and has experienced this in one way or another while doing business within Kampala. Whether it is to rush a child to school, get to an important business meeting, or for those studying who need to make that mad dash to get into an exam on time, no one can prepare you for this kind of Boda boda man.

As I was in a mad dash to get to a 10:00am interview, I employed the services of a much needed boda boda man from a stage nearby. I assumed that since I had not been to the given location for the interview before, although I had Goggled it – I thought it would not hurt to get on a boda boda since they usually know the correct directions to many places within Kampala. 

Little did I know that there could be a possibility that this boda boda man and I were in the same boat in the sense that both he and I did not know the actual location where we were going. This was because of the enthusiasm with which he nearly ruptured my ear drum when he hooted at me and screeched to a halt when I flagged him down.

9:40am

Me: “Boda!” (Motorbike man)

Boda boda man: “Sister, honey ogenda?” (Sister, honey are you going?)

Me: “Ye sebo njagala kugenda ku Kisozi Complex, omanyi yo?” (Yes sir, I want to go to Kisozi Complex. Do you know where it is?)

Boda boda man: “Ehhh nyabo manyi wo.” (Yes madam, I know where it is)

Me:  “Kale sebo tugende. Naye  ndi ku bwangu.” (Okay sir, let’s go but I am in a hurry.)

Boda boda man: “Kale mwana okitegera!” (Alright chic - you understand. This was in slang to imply he understands what I am saying.)

9:45am

A part of me was amused by this gentleman’s Rastafarian references in his language and I hoped this would make for an interesting ride. Little did I know that this ride would be amusing for other reasons altogether and you may want to stay around to see why.

The ride went without incident for the most part except for when we went up the steep incline from Wandegeya heading Buganda road, the boda boda began to cough and freeze as it thrust us forward every other second. Then with no warning the rider pulled to the side of the road and the boda boda’s engine came to an unexpected halt (For Ugandan’s the phrase is it died).

9:52am

Me:  “Kiki ekibadewo sebo? (What happened sir?)

Boda boda man: “Honey, kiri easy nyo. Kati vayo ko ndabe. (Honey take it easy. First get off the motorbike and I have a look.)

Me:  “Ogambye ntino tuli bulungi, naye kati ogamba ntino onjagala okuvayo?” (You said that we are okay, now you are telling me you want me to get off the motorbike?)

Boda boda man: “Ojakuvayo nga dakika emu netugenda.” (You will only get off for one minute and then we will leave.)

Me: “Naye sebo, ndi ku bwangu naye kilabika ntino gwe oliku mizanyo.” (But sir, I am in a hurry and yet it seems you are playing games.)

So I get off the bike a disgruntled customer and step to the side as then the rider took a hold of the motorbike handles and tilted the entire bike to the side all the way until it was lying flat on the ground. Then it finally hit me, he had not run out of fuel in his motorbike and I thought to myself this surely was the worst possible time for this to happen. I started to look from one side of the road to the other in case I needed to flag down another boda boda man to get me where I was going so that I could leave this comedian and be on own.

9:55am

Just when I was about to raise my hand to flag down an oncoming boda boda man, I heard the revving of his bike as it came to life and my Rastafarian rider finally spoke up.

Boda boda man: “Nalo…, Honey nakugambye tuli bulungi.” (Rastafarian exclamation, honey I told you that we are okay.)

Me: “Eh, kale sebo naye ndi late kati. Kansubire ntino pikipiki yo tegenda okufira kukubo….” (Eh, okay sir but I am very late. Let me hope that your motorbike is not going to die on the way…. )

Boda boda man: “Neda mwana ndi steady, tokilaba?” (No girl I am steady, don’t you see it?)

He cut me off before I could get a full sentence in and I decided it was better I left it that way since he was now quickly picking up speed on Buganda road and swerving past motor vehicles on the  road in reckless abandon as he chanted some Bobi Wine song playing in the background. I felt that needed more of my attention than the episode that had only transpired a few brief moments earlier. 

We approached a cross road that we were supposed to turn down at to the right, only for him to pause briefly and then speed straight ahead as if we were heading to the city centre. I quickly tapped him on his shoulder and said,

Me: “Sebo, ojukira bwetugenda….? Nakugambye Kisozi house, kati ogenda wa..?” (Sebo, you remember when we were going..? I told you we were going to Kisozi house, so where are you going now…?”

Boda boda man: “Ehhh mbadde nerabide.” (I had forgotten.)

Me: “Kale dayo tu kirire wansi nga tugenda ku KPC.” (Okay go back and then head down the road as if you are going to KPC.)

9:58am

Within a few seconds we were at our final junction and I assumed that the Rasta man had finally gotten the handle on his spats of madness but I would continue to be surprised. For once again he past the point speeding and was heading straight for Kampala road as if  that was where I was going - I tapped him firmly on the shoulder this time as I asked.

Me: “Sebo, manyi bwetu genda.” (Sir, do you know where we are going?)

Boda boda man: “Bade manyo ntino ogende okungamba, Anti oli pilot!” (I thought you were going to show me, after all you are the pilot.)

10:00am

With that statement from him I almost went into a rage as I checked my phone screen and watched my clock strike 10:00am exactly.

Me: “Stage, yimirira awo.” (Stage stop there)

Boda boda man: “Wa wenyini mwana?”(Where exactly girl)

Me: “Maso awo.” (Right there ahead)

Boda boda man: “Mukubo!” (In the middle of the road?)

Me: “Eh awo!”(Yes there!)

Before he could even come to a full halt, I jumped off the back of the motorbike and I was already holding out his 3,000 UGX shillings for the fare.

Boda boda man: “Eh honey, lwaki tompa tano?” (Eh honey, why don’t  you give me 5,000UGX shillings instead?)

Me: “Tano! Eyaki, nga tomanyi wetugenda. Sebo kwata sente - oyagala sente oba toyagala?” (5,000UGX shillings! What for when you did not know where we were going – do you want the money or not?)

I dropped the notes from my hand as I turned to walk away, his hand quickly shot out to receive it while he grumbled the whole time.

Boda boda man: “Eh naye mwana onsede nyo, naye njakuleka nanti oli honey nyo.” (Eh but girl you have cheated me anyway you are such a honey)

Me: ….. (No response as I was too distracted by how late I was)