Havoc Traffic

Expect the unexpected. 

Throughout my Peace Corps service this has always been my mantra. 

Especially when it comes to travel.

One can never predict how a travel day will go.  From Kitgum to Kampala is 439.4 kilometers, or for those who calculate in miles, 273.  What should in the United States take an average of four hours takes anywhere from eight, on a perfect day, to sixteen, as I recently experienced.

A week ago I had to make the long journey down to the capitol for a Volunteer Advisory Committee meeting.  I had to catch the 6a bus, which meant leaving my house at 5a to secure a seat.  The bus arrived and I attempted to get comfortable for the very bumpy ride to Gulu. 

At 6:30a we were on our way. 

Now I usually never take a seat in the very back of the bus but on this day, it was my only option. 

The driver managed to hit every gargantuan pothole of varying depths, inevitably sending me three feet in the air and an unforgiving return landing. 

The lack of rain caused the dirt roads to transform to a desert storm, which found its way into the bus despite the closed windows.  I swear to you there must have been a hole underneath my seat. 

After the hour and a half journey to Gulu, I was covered in dust. 

And I mean covered. 

At this point some passengers left as they reached their destination and I immediately sought out a window seat closer to the front. 

Luckily I found myself sitting next to a woman who had baby wipes.  She offered me some to freshen.  Trust me when I say that the wipe was brown in color by the time I finished cleaning the lower half of my left arm.

The bus revved its engine and we were out.  Since we made it to some smooth road, I managed to fall asleep in minutes… Only to wake 15 minutes later… Stranded on the side of the road. 

Apparently we were nine, or nineteen, kilometers outside Gulu town when our driver realized that the gears were not working. 

How he did not realize this for the first part of the journey I am unclear.  At this point I was just thankful to have made it alive.

People start leaving the bus, seeking out other transport options.  Now let me remind you we are still four to six hours from the capital.  I decide to sit on the bus and listen to the Celine Dion/Enrique Iglesias/Shania Twain CD that is on repeat. 

After hearing “Because of You” three times I figured it was time for a walk.

The other passengers told me that they were bringing mechanics from Gulu and they should arrive very soon.

Three hours later they appear on boda bodas and start tinkering with the bus. 

During this wait period I played with children, snuggled babies and was given water, soda and biscuits from the other passengers.  I easily could have paid for them myself but they insisted on behalf of their country and its faulty roads and transportation.

At 1p we finally loaded back on the bus to continue our journey.  Usually by this time we would have been on the outskirts of Kampala.

Our journey is going well and the driver is making up for lost time, neglecting to stop for bathroom breaks.  I was perfectly okay with this.

Out of nowhere the brakes come to a screeching halt

As I peak my head out the window I notice a traffic accident involving a Coca Cola truck and a fuel tanker.  Rumor from the onlookers was that the driver of the Coca Cola vehicle hit the fuel tanker, head on, which caused the Coca Cola vehicle to flip on its side.  The drivers fled the scene, which caused every Uganda to emerge from the homes in the bush to take crates and crates of soda and to siphon the gasoline. 

At this point all I was waiting for was someone to light a cigarette.  

Long story short the brought it some crazy contraception that was able to “safely” remove the fuel tanker to the side of the road, allowing traffic to continue.  The Coca Cola truck remained on its side, with people fleeing for Fanta. 

The bus finally made it to the outskirts of the city around 7:30p but the streets of Kampala are ruled by two things...  Congestion and traffic. 

Around 9p I made it to the bus park.  Exhausted.  I managed to have a friend who operates a private taxi pick me up and take me to the Annex.

The time it takes to transport in Uganda is like playing a game of Russian roulette. 

Most times you make it with time to spare.

And then there are those days where you wish you never left home.

Like I said… Expect the unexpected.