HOW TO CROSS THE STREET
Crossing the street in Kampala, Uganda is really just a matter of closing your eyes and hoping for the best.
There are only about two stoplights in all of Kampala, no lines in the road, no stop signs, few real rules it seems. Traffic is almost always thick. Cars, taxi vans, boda bodas (motorcycle taxis), bicyclists, and pedestrians all kind of play one big game of "chicken" as they weave in and out, jockeying for position. Men push bicycles that are loaded with 8 crates of soda pop, or huge bags of charcoal or other goods, or 30 foot long pieces of re-bar with no red flag on the end. I wonder how many people have been skewered by metal or wood that they didn't see ahead? Try weaving through congested traffic while pushing a big old wooden wheelbarrow filled with vegetables, or carrying two big truck tires while riding a bicycle. I really don't know how they all do it.
Making matters worse, there are HUGE potholes everywhere. Not little dips, but big holes that everyone must veer to avoid. A narrow two-way road becomes a one-lane road when everyone is trying to drive around the potholes that can send a boda boda flying or ruin an axle on a car.
I travel mostly on the back of a boda boda, even though I know it's dangerous. Yes, I've brushed against cars. And one time my driver passed another boda boda so closely that my leg was bruised for weeks from the smashing it took. But a boda boda will get you to your destination in 10 minutes, compared to spending hours stuffed into a hot taxi van with 15 other people, enduring a spine-jarring ride with no shock absorbers.
I knew it was only a matter of time, and today it happened: I saw a big SUV hit a boda boda. The boda boda man, the rider, and the motorcycle all went flying through the air. And traffic continued as if nothing happened.
I really should use this as a severe warning and not ride them anymore. Will I heed the warning?
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