When the whole village is your Kin.

Recently I was fortunate to be a part of a traditional marriage celebration (known to Japadhola as Nywom) in the Eastern region of Uganda and it amazed me how different the local populous are these days in stark contrast to when we were younger children. Back then I recall being given gifts whenever we were leaving for Kampala and knowing everyone by name but this time there was such a difference as every face seemed new even though the dialect remained the same. 

However what amused me the most was the change in the status quo of human interaction, every act of kindness is driven by a selfish desire to obtain something from you in return as this following conversation lets on.

Elderly woman: “My goodness how big you are right now – you have surely grown,” she said while I only responded with a vacant smile.

Elderly woman: “Do you know me?”

Me: “No,” I politely responded which caused a frown to flash on her face within in an instance of the words leaving my lips.

Elderly woman: “I am your grandmother the one who carried your mother a long time ago when she was a young baby.”

Me: “Ohhh okay,” I calmly responded as she continued to give me the history of my family line going 4 generations back almost in the same manner a teacher of history would.

After this brief interaction of a couple of minutes I rose from whence I was kneeling and went about my business that had been abruptly brought to a halt by the old ladies education of my family tree. A while later after I had finished everything I needed to in the house as I walked out to the car after saying my goodbye’s I felt a tug at my arm from the side and so I stopped and looked in the general direction.

Me: ‘Yes!”

Elderly woman: “So you will give us a lift up to Nawire.”

Me: “Huh!” with a bizarre look on my face as I tried to understand what had happened in a brief span of 5- 7 minutes since I left her seated at the front of the house.

Then it all made sense - for the brief history she had given, she felt she had created rapport and we had bonded enough thus she was now entitled to transportation to the next sub county on our way out of the village and towards Tororo town and eventually the highway back to Kampala. I was amazed but also saddened that the sweet memories of a place of sweet escape I once called home was no longer the same but before I could take a minute to wrap my head around it all I received a phone call.

Me: “Hello!”

Village Person: “Eh hello, where are you?”

Me: “Home but we are about to leave for Kampala.”

As I was having this conversation, my mind was racing trying to discern the voice so as to match it to a face. Then it hit me this was a person that used my phone to take a call at an earlier function.

Village person: “Eh, okay let me hurry there to see you before you leave.”

Me: “But we are packing the last bits of luggage now and are about to drive off.”

Village person: “But you did not give me anything – send me something.”

Me: “Something what something – but where are you.”

Village person: “You know I just got out of church in Paya.”

Me: “I see, now if you had finished there early and been here you would have received something.”

Village person: “Eh but can’t you wait for me to come before you leave?”

Me: “That is not possible – we are travelling in convoy and I cannot make the rest wait.”

Village person: “Ha but I know you will send me something.”

Me: “But didn’t you know there was a function up to very late yesterday night at home?”

Village person: “Yes!”

Me: “So why didn’t you find out the program for today before you left?”

Village person: “Eh but cousin, it is okay I know you will still send me something.”

Me: “Now how do I send you something when I brought it all the way from Kampala and we have been distributing here at home. The mistake was yours not to be here now.”

Village person: “Hhhmm but I will wait because ... I am sure you will find a way to send me something.”

Me: “Ok I have to drive now – bye,” I said as I hung up the phone bewildered over the conversation I had just had.  

I barely know you and then because of a chance meeting where you followed me around almost the entire day and hounded me – all of a sudden we are close! But for all of you who may be reading this and wondering what ‘something’ means – it is the way that village folk ask you for financial or material items or assistance before you leave for Kampala. So the next time that you are in the East and someone asks if you have something tread lightly or your money purse may be a little lighter or even worse something from your person may go missing if you do not seem too keen on sharing. 

Taxi conductor who spoke English

On a rather uneventful evening as I hustled to get into one of the only available taxis at the stage, I did not think much would occur on such a fine night as this. But little did I know that comedy run throughout every sphere of our Ugandan society as I was about to see with a very animated conductor.

As I sat down, I realized that the conductor announce every couple of meters before  each stage and ask the entire taxi which was now full of passengers whether there was anyone coming out. He did it very loudly and in such an insistent manner that I was rather annoyed that he would disturb what little silence was left after the sounds of the radio and chatter of the other passengers who were going on and on about some football match.

Conductor: “Stage waliwo avayo, waliwo avayo….”  (Is there anyone coming out at the stage, anyone?) Then he paused as if for better effect and he stared at the back of the taxi before turning off the light in the mid area.

Now when I say turn off I mean disconnecting of the live wires with his bare hands like you would in a physics lab as we were all taught during experiments, every Ugandan understands what I mean. Nearly every taxi has a bulb in the middle section of the taxi but no switch; so the often sweat covered conductor leans over the passengers to reconnect the wires for bulb to come on so as to make sure to give the correct change back to his passengers during the trip.

Conductor: “Tewali omuntu avayo ku stage?” (There is no one coming out at the next stage?)

Passenger with Accent: “Ku kalitusi” (I am alighting right ahead by the Eucalyptus tree)

However I must inform you that given the outside traffic and the sound of our taxi radio, the passengers’ tone was rather low and with the heavy British accent I was sure he was not heard. For even I had to strain my ears to hear him and I still thought I had been mistaken probably due to my fatigue that night.

Conductor: “Hhmmmm” (He continued humming to himself)

This was as the driver continued to speed away until the passenger who was alighting realized that we were about to pass his stage.

Passenger with Accent: “Conductor ku Kalitusi, …(As he let a  jeer slip his lips I guess owing to the annoyance he felt for the conductor not being more attentive)

Passenger: “Waliwo avayo sebo.” (There is someone coming out.)

 Passenger with Accent: “Towulidde conductor, .nvayo! ……Ehh STOP!”

“Are you deaf, my goodness” (He yelled this time.) (Haven’t you heard conductor. I am coming out…..Eh STOP! )

Conductor: “Eh kati waliwo avayo, nababuza ko, nga musirise. Owaye nga tulabye wano mu Kampala.” (So now there is someone coming out, huh! I asked and you kept quiet, my goodness as we have suffered here in Kampala)

Passenger: “Muyambe, agambye nti no avayo, naye tomuwilidde.” (Help him and stop, he did say he was alighting but you did not hear him.)

Conductor: “Driver waliwo avayo nga tamunyi kuyogera nga mwana.” (Driver there is someone coming out but they do not know how to talk like a child.)

Now all this would have been pretty standard for a trip in a taxi but for the gentleman’s British accent, so even before I turned to look in his direction I only assumed it was a foreigner. But alas I received a rather good shock, for when I caught sight of him it was a chocolate brown colored Ugandan man of a rather mature age – it is safe to say over 45years.

Passenger with Accent: “So you wanted to take me all the way to Ntinda, I do not know what is wrong with you young people.”

Conductor: “I say get out, get out for you – you keep quiet. Kampala not easy – Kampala si mwangu” (Kampala is not simple)

He said this as the driver pulled to a stop and the conductor gave him his change - better known in Uganda as balance as he walked back to where he was supposed to alight in the first place. The rest of us kept silent during this entire ordeal until this point….

Conductor: “If you cannot manage Kampala go back to your village.” (As he jumped back into the taxi and the driver sped off)

Taxi Passengers: We all burst out into laughter at different intervals right up to the last stop in Ntinda.

It is so funny how I laughed so hard that day I forgot all my stress and fatigue and I must have looked like a fool when I got into my next taxi. Not just me but the bunch of us who had alighted at the Ntinda stage from that previous taxi, all I was thinking at the time was - Only in Uganda.