Safety First

Since the big move to Kampala, I have been very aware of the acute differences between life in the big city and life in remote Kitgum.

One of these being safety.

In Kitgum you rarely saw boda boda drivers wearing helmets as they quickly maneuvered over the poor quality roads.  Even my organization that had five motorcycles for their work only had two helmets, which meant often times the staff went into field without any protection.

Well I am happy to report that in Kampala, I see many more motorcycle drivers with helmets.  We are no Rwanda, where each boda driver is required to wear a helmet with a matching vest, all the while providing a helmet to his passenger. 

Some of the recent advertisements promoting helmet use!

Over the past couple of weeks I have been taking notes of the types of helmets I have seen on my 20-minute walk to work.

Many are your standard helmets… The ones that have padding on the inside that completely cover your head.  Oh and they have a somehow heavy-duty plastic face shield!

Then you remember you are still in Uganda and a boda boda driver passes by wearing a SpongeBob bicycle helmet, a softball helmet, a football helmet, and even construction hats.  Often times, they are not even strapped.

“A” for effort.

Story time.  My walk to In Movement is just about 15 minutes and every morning I get bothered by boda men inquiring whether or not I want a ride.  Every morning I shake my head no.  Now these men do not just ask once… They yell from their passing boda and will continuously look back at me for a solid five to ten seconds for an eyebrow raise, signaling that I would like a ride. 

I play this game every single day.

I get a good laugh when I see the men go by in their non-regulated safety helmets and think to myself, “How in the world do they make it out alive in their early 1990s Rugrat’s helmet meant for a 6-year-old girl?  Quite frankly, I am surprised how transport in general works here.  For more read: Matatus, Bodas, and Bikes, Oh My!

Well then there was this male boda driver.  As if on cue, he honked from behind and asked if I wanted a ride.  I shook my head no. 

Then I saw his helmet.

It was split down the middle and sewn back together.  How they sew plastic here is my melting it back together and weaving rope through it.  They often do it with basins and chairs.

Just like the others he continued to look back at me seeing if I would change my mind.

I raised my eyebrows… Not with the intention of a ride as that is forbidden in Peace Corps, but to simply have a conversation with him.  He spun his boda around to come to me and as I stood there I motioned him to remove his helmet.

Cue morning greetings.

“Ssebo.  Where did you get this helmet from?”

“I bought it.”

“With this sewn or was it new?”

Dead silence.

“Ssebo, you see when you wear a helmet that is supposed to provide safety yet this one is broken and sewn together it does not give confidence to your customers.  Are you picking me?”

“Yes madame but I bought it like that.”

“Okay well next time you buy a new one.  I bet you will find more customers that way.”

“Eh, I see.  Can I take you?”

“No thank you.  I have arrived.”

He drives off.

Now did this conversation have any significant impact?  Probably not.

I walked up towards the office and realized that he was better safe than sorry but still… A helmet broken in two pieces sewn together.

Only in Uganda.