Driving in Kampala

June 10, 2011

I should start out by saying that I do not drive here. I think I would love to, but because I am only here short-term, I am not allowed to drive.

Driving here is not like anything else I have ever seen in my life! Imagine with me the streets in America. They are well-paved, they are straight (and even the curvy roads have warning signs and banked curves), and there are signs everywhere telling you what to do. Imagine with me the drivers in America. They generally obey all of the rules, yield to other traffic, and definitely obey directions from police officers.

Now that you have imagined American driving, erase it from your mind because NONE of it applies here! I’m not kidding. Not one thing about driving here is sane, orderly, or logical.

Here are some examples of how people drive here: boda bodas (motorcycle taxis) weave in and out of traffic, drive on sidewalks, and drive into oncoming traffic; nobody follows the one traffic signal that we have been to; cars pull into traffic without looking and oncoming vehicles have to mash the brakes to avoid a collision; when waiting in a line of traffic, impatient drivers simply go around (even if it means driving on the sidewalk in their taxi vans); where there should only be one lane of traffic, there are four; taxi vans that are meant to carry 14 passengers will have 19; boda drivers find it amusing to swerve AT mzungus who are walking; police officers do all of the above. Oh, and there are potholes large enough to swallow entire cars.

Everytime we drive somewhere, Kerrie must be defensive and aggressive. She has to dodge potholes, oncoming traffic in our lane, and boda bodas that are flanking us on both sides; she has to be prepared to break quickly if someone should turn or pull out in front of us; and she has to watch for pedestrians who sometimes just dart into the road with no warning. I just have to hang on for dear life!

Though these pictures by NO means capture the madness of driving here, they do help illustrate my point. This is Kibuli Road when we were heading downtown the other night…

This is Kibuli, where Friday Market is held (yes, on the railroad tracks)…

I don’t know this road name, but there are four lanes of traffic where there should only be two…

Boda cutting in front of us (this happened no fewer than 10 times while we waited in traffic)…

The boda bodas are driving ON THE SIDEWALK…

Check out the irony. Look carefully at the top of the red sign…

Another obstacle is that we are constantly barraged with people selling RANDOM items while we are stuck in traffic. They do NOT just wander around waiting for someone to ask to buy something; they are at your window, in your face asking you four or five times to buy their products. “Momma, Sister, please, I give you very good price. American sunglasses. Look very good on you. Map of Africa. You need. Banana for school fees. Momma, Sister, please.”