Travelogue: Transport in Uganda

So we taught at school five days a week and basically spent the week in the village. On Fridays though we'd all come home at about 1 pm, have lunch and take the matatu to a town called Jinja, which is about 1.5 to 2 hours away. The matatus are white minivans with a sign saying "TAXI" on them and is the locals' way of travel for longer distances (between villages, towns and cities). There are thousands of matatus around, and they all go the same few routes, so it seems like a public transport network, but they are really all operated by private individuals.

First time on the matatu

The above is the only picture I have of our numerous matatu rides, taken the first time we took the matatu, because it was such a bemusing experience. It's enough to make me never complain about public transport in Singapore ever again. Legally the matatu is supposed to seat only 15 people; the driver, two in the front and three on each of the four rows in the back. But to maximise profits there would usually be 20 people (or more) in the minivan. Four people sitting in each row, plus a conductor who'd just sort of crouch over (see the guy in yellow in the picture) or hang out the window. Sometimes you'd have a stranger half-sitting on you, sometimes you'd have to carry someone's baby for them. At least twice I had to sit on my friends, 'cause I was the lightest and just bend my head so I wouldn't bump it on the car roof when the minivan went over bumps or potholes. And because it's the main mode of transport for locals, they'd sometimes have insane amounts of luggage. We've had live chickens in the same taxi, bulky household items and baggage either carried or tied or shoved under our feet. Once the entire van of people had to alight because this lady had these giant sacks of flour packed into the van and they had to unload them for her. It never ceased to amaze me how much they could pack into just one minivan.

Another thing about the matatus is that they do not leave on time. There is no "on time". They come and go whenever they want. A matatu could just be sitting there by the roadside the entire day and not move an inch, until they fill up the seats. And if you happen to be one of the first passengers, good luck with waiting. The longest we had to wait was about 50 mins, just sitting in the matatu waiting for other people to come by, but our local friends told us it can even take hours. If you try to exit and find another matatu, they'll cling to you and try to convince you that they will leave soon, and you'd just have to be really firm, as I've seen some other locals do. With us though, because there were five of us, more often than not the matatus would be too packed and we'd have to cram ourselves in or wait for the next one, which would come whenever.

And there no designated stops, no bus stops nothing of the sort. You just tell the conductor where you want to go or stop and he will somehow remember it. The matatu stops whenever/wherever it wants to, especially if they see someone standing by the roadside, or if someone wants to alight in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes you tell them where you are going and they will ask you to get in, but halfway through the journey they will tell you to alight and change to another matatu, and you'd just have to follow instructions. So when I said it would usually take us about 1.5 to 2 hours to get to Jinja, it depended on how often we were stopping and whether we had to change to a different matatu to get there. Initially too, they'd try to overcharge us because we were mzungus ("white people", or any foreigner really). 

Another common mode of transport, usually for shorter distances, is the boda-boda. These are motorcycle taxis and we'd usually take them to go between villages, or around town on the weekends. You just settle on a price with the motorcyclist, hop on and off you go. No helmets, roads full of potholes, sketchy riding skills and all. The drivers were mostly pretty skilful, but sometimes they would try to squeeze in between two vehicles even when there is barely any space and you find yourself brushing up against the car beside you. Or they will speed up when it would have been better to slow down. Legally they are only supposed to take one pillion rider, but we would usually ride two on one. Some days to save a few dollars, three of us would ride on one (so that would be four adults on a bike, including the driver, uh-huh), because they would try to overcharge the one riding alone. Riding at night was actually pretty dangerous, because the roads have no streetlights and are full of potholes and sunken parts, but we got so used to it we didn't think twice about hopping on anymore. One night though, there were three of us on the bike and because it had rained and one stretch of the road had caved in and flooded and the driver was going so slowly, the engine died and we had no choice but to get off and wade through the muddy ankle-deep water. 

So yeah. The other day I was taking the MRT and they announced that there was a train delay of 20 minutes and I was going to be late and it was a little annoying. But I thought of how we were all standing in an air-conditioned station even though it was crowded, and how people were getting restless but for the most part were queuing in an orderly manner, and then of all the things I just got used to in Uganda and wondered if tolerance levels changed according to where you were. Sometimes I think it's really just a matter of taking things into your stride and changing your perspective.