OKAY!!! To begin week two of work I had a commute that I must relay to you all. The first matatu I take essentially goes in a loop. I can wait at my neighborhood’s main stage, but that place is pretty crowded and a farther walk. My other option is a shorter walk to the main road where I hope I find an empty matatu. I can take the matatu heading in either direction, though one goes through the city center which could be pretty jammed, and the other goes into the city center from the other side, potentially avoiding said jam. On Friday I went in the direction that takes me through the city center, for the first time, easily finding a matatu in that direction upon leaving the house. The ride was shorter than the other direction I had been using, but that might be because Ugandans don’t bother working on Fridays. I had to test this theory.
Monday rolls around and I can’t buy a matatu heading in the same direction I went on Friday. For 20 minutes I wait and only two come, but can only fit one or two people, and I’m not one of them. So I cross the street and after a few minutes eventually find one heading in the usual direction. I’m sitting in the front seat between the shotgun passenger and the driver. After about 4 minutes we hit our usual jam before a traffic circle. These jams are rough because there is a traffic cop at the circle holding back a line of traffic for what can be 5 minutes or more. Drivers get impatient. My matatu driver is having one of those days where he feels no one can stop him. He drives on the shoulder, skipping 15 or so cars. Then pushes himself back into the main line and zips into the oncoming traffic’s lane, taking over another 10 or so vehicles. Up ahead the oncoming traffic is resuming so he needs to find a way into the standstill line of traffic he should have been patiently waiting in. He makes a swift turn back into the line and Thunk-thu-thu-thump. BRAKES!
My very aggressive driver cut off a car. The wrong car to mess with. The car is able to zip around the matatu and diagonally stop in front of our matatu, prohibiting any movement on our part. The driver of the banged vehicle— damage is over the right front wheel—gets out and stands at the matatu driver’s window staring at him for a few seconds and says something in Luganda. Probably something along the lines of “You drive like a bleeping bleephole, you know that!?” He takes out his phone and walks back into his car. I’m guessing to call the police or his insurance company (is there even insurance here? It must cost a heck of a lot). My matatu driver is still just sitting there, staring straight ahead. He does have some money his hand which he stealthily puts in his sock, he doesn’t want the other driver to take it from him.
After a minute or so the sedan driver re-emerges from his car and bends over at the front of the matatu. Blu-Blump! He has ripped off the license plate of the matatu! He does not pass go, nor does he collect 200 Ugandan Shillings. He heads to the rear of the matatu and Blump. Blump-Blump. He has ripped off the back tags of the vehicle. I have seen enough and nudge the man sitting next to me. He opens the door and we start the mini exodus from the matatu. I walk up along the traffic and find another matatu with an extra space.
I wish I could say the story ends here, but it doesn’t. Almost at my destination where I exit and walk to the next matatu, we are hit from behind by a bus pulling out from its parking spot along the curb. These matatus are so big that these types of hits only make a sound, but as a passenger I don’t feel much. But I am now wondering if I wronged a Ugandan God somewhere along my morning. Hopefully that’s all the accidents I will have for the week, at least.
