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Published: February 23rd 2010
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That's the plan!
My Nairobi to Kampala bus The crossing into Kenya is the epitome of efficiency and I emerge the other side into a truck stop full of hassle and haggling. As I poke my head in to inspect potential transport south - a battered pick-up - I am stunned to discover a fellow traveller from way back on the Egypt-Sudan ferry, a burly old South African, L, with his majestic long white beard that brings much delight to local children. I am very surprised and pleased to see such an unexpected friendly face, having assumed all my fellow passengers from the boat were long gone. I am less pleased when L gleefully informs me that a mutual acquaintance of ours from Khartoum, another South African, had his motorbike shot from under him by bandits on this stretch of road a few weeks back and narrowly got away riding on his rims. The road between Moyale and Marsabit was notorious in the past for such activity but, according to the (even more notoriously) corrupt Kenyan authorities, the security situation has "improved" and armed convoys are no longer necessary. I am a touch suspicious that this may be a fabrication and that those responsible for security prefer instead to
simply pocket the funds budgeted for this task.
The ride is dreadful. Not quite as bad as the bucking bronco that was Djibouti City to Hargeisa; more like sitting on a washing machine at full tilt. The back of the truck is covered in a tarpaulin to shield us from the dust and this quickly begins to act like a greenhouse. Some of it is soon peeled back by majority decision; the voluminous dust being preferable to stifling heat. I find the experience tough but not unmanageable and am only really bothered by the awning limiting my view for most of the trip. I am utterly filthy when we arrive in Isiolo, where I share a room with a southern Sudanese guy from the road and stay up late debating the hornet’s nest that is African politics.
The journey south into Nairobi is quite surreal. Firstly, I am not a little miffed when we leave bang on the declared departure time. On top of this the vehicle is a comfortable and organised coach rather than the rickety buses of Ethiopia. We are even stopped on the way by police to make sure the passengers are wearing
seatbelts! The road is smooth. Hang on?
There are three cities on the African tourist trail that I fear. Johannesburg, Lagos and Nairobi, or 'Nairobbery' as it's not so affectionately called. Originally I had hoped to avoid it, but my travel plans for Kenya have been changing almost by the hour in recent days and ultimately I deem it necessary to stop here. I find the place very disconcerting, but not for the reasons I had anticipated. True, the area we are dropped in by the bus feels quite shoddy and perhaps a little intimidating, but a quick cab ride out of there changes everything. The CBD where most of the tourist infrastructure is feels very modern and developed. The narrow streets are crammed with people and flanked by enormous high rise buildings. People stroll around in suits and flash accessories (the levels of overtly displayed bling seem a good indicator of the affluence and relative safety of an African city) and there is colour everywhere, particularly on the pimped out local buses. I find it all quite overwhelming. I am no longer anxious, far from it, but I have even less desire to stay than before. I
immediately head for the bus company offices, still uncertain about exactly where to go next. The gods send me a sign however; there is a bus leaving for Kampala within an hour. Sold. I am in and out of Kenya in less than 48 hours.
I arrive in Uganda's capital city at 2am. Arriving in a big city after dark, particularly in Africa, is never an appealing prospect and rather foolhardy, but fortunately my bus company is an established international operator and so has a secure compound complete with waiting room in which I half sleep. Early in the morning I trudge across the already bustling city to find a distant hostel. I am gelatinous with fatigue by the time I've arrived, pitched my tent and had my first good hot shower in a long, long time. Unfortunately, for the second time, a segment on one of my tent poles snaps and so my first day in Kampala is spent hunting for a replacement. I ask at a couple of nearby tent shops but they only make marquees. However, the boss of one allocates me one of his lads as a chaperone and sends us off into town
with a list of potential places to find spare parts. None prove fruitful and we return after a couple of sweaty hours - Kampala is unexpectedly hot - empty handed. Their next solution is to solder the broken pieces of plastic together. Unaware of exactly what the guys are doing, I am assured that all will be well and left to play nanny to the various kids running around while I wait. When the result of their endeavours is presented to me I demonstrate with a quick flick of the wrist how futile it is to attempt to fix the pole like this. Off they disappear again before returning having tried exactly the same thing. Again, almost laughing, I snap it with minimum effort. Finally they opt simply to cut off the offending end piece and there is just enough left over for it to still work.
I really like Kampala and it is a very necessary stop after a month of almost continuous movement. It is a tremendously busy city, seemingly flatter in construction (though not topography - like Rome it sprawls over seven hills) and more spread out than Nairobi, which gives it an air of
modernity whilst retaining a somewhat parochial charm. People flow down every street like a river in spate; there is absolutely no free space anywhere. The centre appears more developed (with the exception of southern Kenya) than anything I've seen since Egypt, but the city is more frayed round its edges. The area I stay in is further out in the suburbs and very relaxed. I end up spending longer than intended here, although this is partly forced on me because it rains heavily both Saturday and Monday whilst places I want/need to visit are closed Sunday, thus writing off three days. Perhaps this is a good thing. I still get two good full days of exploration and comfortably clock up 20+ hours of walking. My tent continues to display a lack of loyalty as another pole segment (the replacement from northern Ethiopia) also snaps in the heat. Yet by a fantastic coincidence there is another English guy in my campsite - one of only a handful of the surprisingly scarce Brits I've met so far - with exactly the same make of tent. The corresponding pole has also been defying his authority too and continually breaking but he has with
Misty mornings
The National Mosque him some spare parts and generously assists me with repairs.
Kampala is also where I witness my first case of a thief caught red handed. Stealing is a way of life across the continent, yet, with so many people subsisting on so little, thieves are especially reviled because one petty theft can completely ruin someone. Consequently any thief caught in the act is dealt with brutally. As I sit having lunch on my final day one such criminal is mobbed by pursuers right before my eyes. In desperation he attempts to jump over slow moving traffic to escape but is grabbed and flung to the floor before being beaten so viciously that the planks of wood used to bludgeon him break apart. It's pretty intense to watch and despite his wrongdoing I can't help but feel sorry for this poor man as he is pummelled into the ground.
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Rose
non-member comment
Very good pics!!
I like th boda boda guys looking idle! and the firemen! i think in the blue truck are brilliant. You actually give uganda a different view from what you usually see in the pictures. You give it a mixture of what it really is and not just one side of it's poverty and sadness, but the enjoyment, art culture, amixture of everything. thanks Rose http://www.hoopoe-tours.com/