Boda-Boda!

(I will do a more in-depth look at my new apartment when I take some good shots of the interior during daylight hours).

I took this photo off of Google. 

Today I went on the increasingly most popular form of transport in Kampala, the Boda-Boda. The Boda-Boda is a nickname for the motorcycle taxis – everywhere you turn you see these young men zipping in and out of traffic with passengers on the back (sometimes up to three). They are one of the most interesting things about Kampala. Many have slogans and stickers on their bikes (often football logos or biblical quotes) and they range in appearance from button-up shirts (almost a Bay St. figure out on a bit of a mid-day spin) to quirky (picture any hip-hop video really).

Interjection: the most amusing driver I saw so far was wearing a Justin Bieber “Never Say Never” tee.

Whenever you are walking down the street, at about 30 second intervals, they will come up and ask if you “need a lift” or in my case, I seem to get shouts of “boss! Boss! Ride?!” If you are a muzengo – white person – it is generally assumed that you're lost and could use a ride.While it can be distracting getting asked for a ride every thirty seconds, I always give a “no thank you, but thanks for asking!” After all, how often do you get service like that? When I appeared in the late afternoon with my helmet outside the plaza, about twelve people waved at me at once ... haha, it felt like I had set off a flare seen in a three block radius that I needed a ride. 

Their reputation is - of course - mixed, with some people warning you away from them with every fibre of their being, while others scoff and say that the warnings are overrated. A few nurses I met told me that about 80% of injuries in the ER are from Boda-Boda incidents and there are daily reported fatalities.

Needless to say, the fear of the Bodas was a beast I needed to slay for the simple sake of convenience, and today it was unavoidable. I needed a ride to a bank to pay my rent; luckily, Asaph, the AMREF security officer had swung by to visit me, so he flagged down a guy he recognized and told him exactly where I needed to go and I was off on my first ride.

I was a little tense at first as we weaved through the traffic, with many times cars being an inch away from my elbow. We weren’t going fast, but we definitely weren’t going as the crow flies (rather, more like an inebriated bee). While the Kampala fashion seems to be to look disinterested and sit with your hands at your sides - with talking on your cell, gesticulating wildly being the alternative - I clung onto his waist for dear life, and at one point put my fingers through his belt loops (this got an awkward glance in the mirror which I pretended not to notice).

However, since then (earlier today) I have been on three additional rides and I felt safe on all of them. Largely this might be because I definitely have the largest helmet in all of Kampala (the majority of helmets used here probably wouldn't pass a DOT inspection ... but they sure look cool!). On one of my rides, when I pulled up to one of the largest intersections in Kampala and I was surrounded by about thirty drivers and their passengers and they ALL turned and looked at me … at the helmet … and quite a few smirked. Yup – muzengos can be buttercups boys, deal with it. 

As a final – cute – anecdote: I had just gotten off my final ride of the evening and was enjoying a cigarette (which was a small adventure to purchase by the way) by the boda platform, sitting beside my oversized helmet, and the cutest little kid came up to me, smiled a huge grin and held out his fist to pound it! I burst out laughing and obliged him.