A tourist visiting the Pearl of Africa aka Ugandan capital, Kampala, might mistake it for being not only the most expensive city in Africa, but also the noisiest and busiest. Virtually everything in the city costs thousands of Ugandan shillings – whether it is a ride on a boda-boda (motorcycle) taxi, a snack of chips masala and fresh fish, or matooke (boiled and cooked bananas) at a restaurant on Ggaba beach.
The beautiful city perched on several hills, much like New York, is city that never sleeps as hundreds of thousands of its residents and visitors go about their businesses in crowded streets and roads, even on Marty’s Day. Another culture shock for visitors is the sea of humanity as boda-boda operators monopolize the roads, ferrying passengers to and fro oblivious of traffic rules that require the of wearing helmets and reflector jackets. Like matatu (van) drivers in Kenya, the boda-boda operators are the law unto themselves, and even the police seem to handle them with kid gloves.
The capital city is sparklingly clean and well organized, but the noise pollution from the multitudes of boda-boda taxis is not only an irritant and a nuisance, but can also be quite traumatising to visitors.
Most expensive city
The exchange rate of Kenya Shillings to Ugandan shilling was 30:1 while the Kenya Shillings to US dollar was 1:120. In Kampala a camera memory card could cost you 100,000, while a night’s stay at a three-star hotel would cost Uganda Sh47,000. A glass of apple mint at a city restaurant costs Uganda Sh27,500 while a plate of masala chips goes for 13,000 compared to 14,000 for a kilogramme of beef and Sh20,000 for IKg of sugar. The prices of other goods are: chicken (20,000), sugar 1Kg (4,300), salt (1,000), Omo detergent 1Kg (3,600), maize flour 1Kg (2,500), Geisha bathing soap (3,500). Motorists would have to part with 5,890 to purchase a litre of diesel and 5,800 for a litre of petrol.
In Jinja city, renowned as the source of the River Nile, I had breakfast and lunch at a restaurant downtown which cost me 13,500 and included fish (6,000), staple food matooke (3,000), one chapatti (500), black tea, soda and water which all cost a standard fee of 1,000.
When I arrived Kampala, I came across an accident between a taxi (matatu) and a parked motor bike near the central city terminus which looked much like a used car dealership of Japanese manufactured vehicles such as Toyotas, Nissan and other models of vans. The taxi driver complied with traffic rules by stopping immediately, admitting liability and then pleaded with the boda-boda operator to “forgive him”. The matter was resolved amicably without involving armed police, who are parked at every major street corner.
That was a big contrast to what we see on Kenyan roads where boda operators are the law unto themselves and often gang up against drivers after accidents, irrespective of who is at fault.
In fact, with the toxic political climate in Kenya with the August 9 General Election fast approaching, the issue has been politicized and turned into we versus them: hustlers versus dynasty!
Maiden trip and Mwakenya leaflets
My recent visit to Kampala was my second; the first was 32 years ago when I was more adventurous as a cub reporter for the Daily Nation, published by Nation Newspapers Ltd, the forerunner of Nation Media Group.
I had used a popular transporting company at the time, the Akamba Bus Service, for the scenic 650 Km. trip from Nairobi to Kampala to meet some of my maternal Suba relatives in Uganda.
I was hosted for four days by a former college mate, Dr Ssekimpi at Makerere University who had landed a job there as a lecturer soon after graduating in early 1980s from University of Arizona, in Tucson, Arizona in the United States.
During the first day of my stay, my friend recalled the harrowing events in Kampala in the (days, weeks, months that preceded my visit. "Sounds of gunfire in the night were the order of the day” as the police and military officers pursued thieves and rebels who dared to oppose the new government of Yoweri Kaguta Museveni and his National Resistance Movement (NRM).”
Life was not easy for my friend and in order to pay school fees, and put food on the table for his wife and children, had dabbled as an electrician and repairing faulty iron boxes, radios, electric cookers for his colleagues and neighbours in a section of the sitting room. On the second day, Dr Ssekimpi pulled a fast one on me by producing copies of Mwakenya, a banned publication in Kenya that criticised the country’s President Daniel arap Moi and his Kanu government highlighting corruption and the violation of human rights.
"Feel free to have a look and read it, here in Uganda we have no problem with this publication. We have our own problems to worry about," my college mate said with confidence.
That night, I never slept a wink and spent the time reading the seditious publication whose possession had landed scores of Kenyan intellectuals, politicians, students and so-called dissidents arrested, tortured, charged in court and jailed without a right of appeal or a fine.
After whetting my appetite with Mwakenya, my friend gave me another banned book, Africa, The Triple Heritage, by Prof Ali Mazrui, which I also read overnight from cover to cover and returned to him for safe custody.
The following day, I left for a matatu and boat ride to visit a maternal uncle, Frederick Ochieng Ongola, who was a chief at Bosindere village in Kyagwe, opposite Ggaba beach in Kampala city.
My uncle (nera) welcomed me warmly and reminded me that my parents, elder brother, Ken, and sister, Diana, had visited him two years earlier. My mother and uncle’s memorable re-union was marked by tears of joy as they shook hands and hugged quite typical of a reunion between Subas in Uganda and Kenya's Rusinga Island.
For the next three days as his guest, I was treated like royalty in a relaxed environment with mature plantations of trees, bananas and a variety of fresh vegetables and fruits at my disposal.
Maternal roots in Buganda kingdom
My first visit to Kampala ended with city tour organised by a former Daily Nation colleague, Margaret Bukirwa, to the tomb of the Kabaka's. Later we headed downtown to shop for clothes at Owino Market, near the taxi terminus, before I wound up my visit and returned to Nairobi on another Akamba Bus Service vehicle.
My second trip to Kampala was 32 years later in a Guardian day bus which brought back fond memories of the quality time I had shared with friends. The trip was on the eve of Martyr's Day, observed annually to remember Christians and leaders whose lives were cut short because of their beliefs, sacrifices and political stand.
My plans were to arrive in Busia, Kenya, before dusk and ensure I had cleared with the immigration and customs officials before crossing into Uganda for another road trip to Jinja for the night and then "discover" the source of the River Nile the following day before proceeding to the Ugandan capital.
But that was not to be because of the bureaucracy and heavy downpour which forced me to spend the night at a guesthouse in Busia, Uganda. After my half day tour of Jinja, I boarded a taxi, better known as a matatu in Kenya, for the two-hour ride to Kampala. My seatmate on the front seat was a jovial female prisons officer. She was very excited to hear about my mission and blog project; she also shared her work and travelling experiences in the country.
Second Ugandan trip
The traffic heading to the capital city got heavy and scores of hired buses and vans overtook us heading to the historic Namugongo town the home of a shrine in honour of the fallen martyrs, for the day long celebrations led by Catholic and Anglican clergy. and their respective choirs.
My new-found friend became restless as we got to the outskirts of the hilly city as the traffic built up. She was anxious that she would miss her appointment with her boss to present her son’s job application.
The driver dropped her next to her office then he proceeded to the central taxi parting station where I alighted. I got one of the many boda-boda operators to drop me at CJ Restaurant where I had a snack of mint juice and masala chips for 27,000 Ugandan Shillings as I used their wifi to surf and communicate with my relatives and friends in the Ugandan capital and in Kenya.
After the refreshments, I connected with my friend, Isaiah Kojwang, who is the founder director of three-star Holiday Express Hotel (HEH), on junction of Luwum Street and Kampala Road. He directed me to the four-star hotel where I spent two nights.
Day1: Had a sumptuous breakfast of matooke and matumbo (tripe) plus tea, fruits and cereals. While enjoying my four-course breakfast, I met Engineer Ssebowa Kiboigo, and became immediate friends after introduction and the pleasantries.
He told me he was 85 years old, and was an alumni of an American university who had a passion for research, travelling and African studies, just like me, During our conversation, our eyes were glued to the TV screen watching the live coverage of Martyr's Day fete on NTB Uganda.
After breakfast, I went for a 30-minute morning walk to the Independence Stature and city centre near a public park. On my return, I freshened up left for the central taxi bay where I boarded a vehicle to Ggaba beach, next to Port Bell, for a sundowner late lunch. After taking numerous photos of the business and fishing community. I returned to my hotel and spent the evening editing my photos and updating my blog stories about the trip.
Day2. My former colleague at Daily Nation, Margaret Bukirwa Sentamu, visited me together with her son, Moses Senjako, and we had breakfast together as we caught up since our last meeting a decade ago in Nairobi. She is a founder and director of Mama FM; a woman-focused radio station in the Ugandan capital. She then asked her son to double as my chauffeur and also tour guide.
I was honoured to meet one of Kabaka’s 50 or so wives, who live on the expansive secluded compound on a hill. WE enjoyed a gourd of fermented porridge as we exchanged pleasantries and I then took a photo with her.
From the Kabaka's tomb, we visited Aggrey Memorial School, my father, Enos Seth Orlale's Alma mater, where we met the deputy principal, Patrick Kibuuka, some teachers and students who were shocked and excited to hear about my mission.
The deputy principal was very excited to hear about my dad who attended the school in mid 1940s. His younger bro, Markmon (Mark) Okeno Olale and cousin, Peter Olale Wigwa also later enrolled in the school.
Kibuuka excused himself and went to their archives where he fetched some of the framed group photos of the 1930s, 40s and 50s hoping that I could identify my dad or uncles among them, but in vain. Moses and I then left for my hotel where he dropped me feeling exhausted but satisfied about my mission.
Day3. I got up at dawn, took a walk in the deserted streets and noticed a pharmacist opposite my hotel had opened by 6.30am, before returning and freshening up ready for breakfast.
I later checked out and bid my friend, Kojwang, kwaheri ya kuonana (bye bye) and left for Gguba beach where I boarded a speed boat to the other side of the lagoon to attend the funeral and burial of my maternal uncle two days later.
While there, I met many of my Suba relatives from Kenya among them Bishop Samuel Adede and others who had settled in Uganda; I then used the opportunity to met the elders, catch up, learn Suba culture, history and politics.
Passengers held hostage
For the next two nights there, I slept in a tent with four other male relatives; had a sumptuous meal before leaving early for Nairobi on that wet afternoon on a boda-boda for 20Km. to Mukono town, along the Kampala-Jinja-Busia highway, then alighted and boarded a taxi (van) to Uganda-Kenya boundary in time for the night buses to the Kenyan capital.
But after travelling well in the Periska Luxury Bus Service vehicle, we realized that looks deceive: were shocked when it stalled at 3am near a petrol station in Kimende on the busy Naivasha-Nairobi highway.
That was after wasting a whole hour near the Kisumu-Busia-Bondo junction after irate passengers demanded that they be transported to Nairobi saying they were not ready to be sacrificed by the management for their overbooking and other logistical problems. They argued for 30 minutes as they held the driver and the over 50 passengers hostage. When asked what the problem was, our tired and frustrated driver admitted that it was not a mechanical problem, "We have run out of fuel and we have no money and must call head office for SOS!"
By then, most passengers were so frustrated that they opted to seek alternative transport by waving down matatus and buses plying the route to come to our rescue at an extra fee.
I was among them; I paid Kshs150 for myself and a similar one for my seatmate who was heading to college in Kiambu town.
Though it was an anticlimax, but the Kampala trip was memorable and worth the 32- years delay.
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