BITE ME SOFTLY. I board this taxi that is headed for old taxi park. A journey that costs a mere 1000 shillings. Halfway the journey, the taxi tout (conductor) implores all of us to start paying up the fare. As usual people have different personalities. Some decide to hurl insults at the conductor for asking for the fare a little too early. They reason that they will pay him when we reach the intended destination. Others (I inclusive) decide to give him the fare there and then. What would be the point in hanging on the money yet one would have to part with it anyways? A few meters away from the destination, the conductor implores those that hadn’t yet cleared to pay up. All of them heed to this call save for this particular individual. A youthful man, most probably in his late 20’s or early 30’s. He’s clad in a well pressed suit, a tie and putting on near-classy specs. He argues that he will only pay when the taxi reaches the precise point of destination. The passengers break into a relentless laughter. Others start jeering and questioning this guy’s mental faculties. How can a seemingly accomplished gentleman have such a sub-normal level of intellect they implicitly ask. He seems unbothered by all this ranting and insists that he’s going to pay a few seconds from now when we hit the destination point. I sense drama ahead. And right I was. As soon as the taxi reaches the end of the journey, and we begin to disembark, this ‘gentleman’, tries to storm out of the taxi at a speed that would make Usain Bolt a joker. He was in for a surprise. The conductor grabs him and demands for his money. The man shouts back that he has no money. A scuffle ensues followed by a punch and kick throwing contest. Forget the Golola-Naggy contest or the Tyson-Evander Holyfield contest. This was the real deal. I had never seen punches and kicks so meticulously orchestrated. Trust Ugandans, they love chaos .In no minutes; the arena of the contest is filled to capacity. Fellow taxi touts and drivers can be seen chanting in support of one of their own. It is melodrama at its best. It all happens so fast. Within seconds, the gentleman’s jacket (coat), tie and specs are confiscated as compensation for the 1000 shilling. The ‘gentleman’ is seen fleeing the scene cursing. As I move away, I ask myself: why on earth would someone board a taxi well knowing that they don’t have a single coin on them? What were they thinking? Why did this have to degenerate into a kick-boxing contest? Is the situation in the country this bad? If he can’t afford 1000 for transport, how the hell does he feed his family? Is he a con artist? Does he have a wife/girlfriend? Can she stand such a man? A barrage of questions came to my mind. I walk away with more questions than answers. It’s a bee-hive of activity on the outskirts of the park as always. People moving up and about. “Bamaama abagala okulabika nga Miss world, Leggings zabitaano. Leggings zabitaano wano,” someone shouts. I look in the direction of the voice wondering which piece of cloth can cost 500 shillings. I was in for a surprise. There is a bevy of women is surrounding the guy that’s selling the leggings. Many are buying them. I figure that there are mainly girls in their late teens or early 20’s. “Enseenene wano. Enseenene waano,” I’m distracted by another voice. Grasshoppers? In June? Those must be praying mantises I tell myself. I decide to observe. An elderly man is bargaining with the person selling grasshoppers to be added more to that he had bought already. As I continue moving, I am taken aback by a group of women running with basketfuls of bananas on their heads. Panic is written all over their faces. Some of them dive into the nearest kiosk and others vanish in the large crowds of people. Asking myself why women older than my mother, would be running like this, my answer comes immediately in the form of a yellow-green pickup truck that is fast approaching. The truck is laden with evidently ruthless, merciless, violent men donned in yellow T-shirts with some green element--KCCA law enforcement officers. I ask bystander what the meaning of all this is. Apparently if those KCCA officials were to find these women selling items off the street, they (the women) would be roughed up and their items confiscated. I’m disgusted at the idea that such old women, mothers of the nation, who are trying to earn a living to support their families, could be treated in such a derogatory manner. What will they tell their children when they go back home empty handed? Who will they turn to for help if the very leaders who are mandated to stand for them are the ones torturing them? In the whole of my life, I had never seen an old woman run that fast. It broke my heart. It broke my soul. Time is fast catching up with me. I had to get to office in a few minutes. I decide to jump on a bodaboda lest I get to work late. At first sight, the countenance of the cyclist (herein referred to as boda guy) points to the fact that he seems to be frustrated with life. Lines of tear and wear are written all over his face. “Take me to MTN towers,” I tell him. “Kasanvu (7000/=)”, he answers back. In a state of utter consternation, I break into laughter. How on earth can he tell me to pay 7000 shillings for a journey that costs 2000 shillings at most? As I walk away from him, he calls me back. “Kale nkumi bbiri mukama wange”, he says. (Loosely translated as: give me 2000 UGX my boss). I sit on his bike and off we go. Along the way, I ask him why he wanted to literally rob me of my money. “Yemwe abali mukintu “, he tells me. (Loosely translated as: you are the guys in the driving seat of things in the country) I ask him why he thinks so and he tells me that by virtue of where I work (up town), it’s quite evident that money is no problem. He then goes ahead to tell me how frustrated he is with life. He has a wife at home and three children. He wants to take his children to the best schools in the country. He wants to give them the very best. He wife is pestering him for a formal introduction and subsequent wedding. They have been cohabiting for five years. He wants the best for his family but he is frustrated. He tells me how business is not going on well. How Ugandan leaders have betrayed him. How he had applied to be a beneficiary of the youth fund but was turned down. How KCCA officials have created hell for him. How his bodaboda had been confiscated by these officials some time back and he had to pay a hefty fine to retrieve it. How the leaders are only interested in feeding their stomachs and do not give a damn about common man. You people up town do not know the realities on the ground. You do not know the pain and suffering we go through he insinuates. “Mubeera eyo mu air condition nga mulya sausage, sumbusa ne chicken. Temumanyi bili kunsi. Ffe tuli enno tubonaboona”, he says. (Loose translation: You be there in air conditioned offices eating sausgaes, samosas and chicken. You have no idea what’s going on the ground. For us we are here suffering. ) “Ebintu byonna mu mubilina. Amamotoka amanene. Abakazi abalungi. Muliba mulabaki? Oba ffe twaza gwaaki? Tulinga batali munis yaffe,” he adds. (Loose translation: You have all the good things in life. The big cars. The beautiful women. What crime did we commit not to be like you people? It’s like we are not in our country. ) I can feel his frustration. Basing on the earlier incidents of old women running away from approaching KCCA enforcement officers, I relate to his pain and sufferings. I ask myself whether, the leaders of this country at all levels, be it government or opposition or religious or corporate companies, really care about transforming the lives of the common man. In my mind, I ask whether the powers that be really know what’s on ground. I wonder what the situation is like in the deepest of villages. As I ponder, we reach MTN towers. I hand him a 10,000 note and tell him to keep the balance. “Genda ogulile abaana amaata”, I tell him. (Loose translation: Go and buy for your kids milk). Ecstatic, he sets off. Hours later, I do a recap of the events of the day. “Since our leaders, the old near-vegetative bunch have miserably failed in their duties, how can we young people change this nation for the better? “I ask myself. We are trendy. We are fashionistas, we love gadgets, we love fast cars, we like easy-to-read books and newspapers, we love fast foods, we love entertainment. We are also fervently agile, flexible, ambitious and spontaneous. We are curious and extremely energetic. But do we love our nation? Do we give a damn about the current state of affairs anyway? Or for us, as long as we have watched Man of steel or gone to the 3D cinema or taken our loved ones to dinner or logged onto Facebook or twitter or instagram or holding an iPhone 5 or a Samsung galaxy S4 or an iPad, all is well ? As I ponder on these questions, an acute biting headache attacks me. “BITE ME SOFTLY”, I whisper to myself, “for I’m trying to think”, I add
Posted on: Sat, 29 Jun 2013 02:45:02 +0000
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