Why life is good, as explained by taxis

In case I gave the impression that life here is only sad, frustrating, and desperate - which would be a fair summary of the last 2 posts - I want to set the record straight:

Life is good.
Uganda is fantastic.
Kampala is one crazy city!

First, why life is good.

People here are nice. Really nice. I am constantly amazed by the goodwill, generosity, and openness of Ugandans. I don't have to think back very far for some examples.

The Kampala taxi park, which is cool to watch from afar in the day but not so fun when you are lost at night

Two days ago, I found myself in the kind of situation that new travelers are warned against - female, alone, in the dark, wandering through a taxi park that is famous for thieves. Good one, Mara. Luckily, as often happens when lone humans make stupid decisions, humanity came to the rescue. A driver noticed my predicament and assigned me to one of his deboarding passengers, a woman named Jesca. Jesca took my hand, and in so doing accepted full responsibility for me. She led me through the dark maze of taxis, over puddles, and around pocket-pickers. She helped me find a private taxi and negotiate a price. On the x-ray folder that she was bringing back from the hospital (it was her own x-ray, for her broken hand - at that moment I wished I could be an orthopedic surgeon and fix her, as thanks for rescuing me!), she had me write down the driver's license plate number. Jesca promised to track him down if I did not call her phone when I arrived at my destination. With a stern nod at the driver, a gentle goodbye for me, and a flourish of her good hand, she disappeared into the dark. My hero. And all she asked of me was to let her know when I had arrived safely!

(Epilogue:  Not surprisingly, the driver was a good guy. As we waited out a traffic jam for over 30 minutes, he taught me Luganda, crooned country music songs, and asked me to interpret the more cryptic lyrics. The traffic jam was actually FUN.)

Today I was feeling tired and worn out after a busy day downtown (and by that, I mean that downtown was busy, and I got wrapped up in it - even if my only agenda was to eat lunch, the process of weaving through the crowd while trying not to fall into a gaping sidewalk hole was exhausting). When I boarded a shared public taxi for home, I didn't want to socialize at all...just get me home, and find me a glass of cold water... But somehow, as seems to happen, I started talking with the woman next to me. Before I knew it we were exchanging life stories. She is Ugandan, and after working for 20 years as a social worker in the UK, she was delighted to retire back to Uganda. Of course - she grinned, this is HOME. Since she had a bag of oranges in her lap, we also discussed our shared passion for the "vite-ah-mines" in citrus fruits. When the taxi swerved to a halt at my stop, she pushed an orange into my palm. When I stood (more like crouched) up, she stuffed more oranges into my jacket pockets. I have to say, they smelled divine, but still I tried to stop her. No luck. My pockets bulged as my heart swelled. I arrived home with a lighter step, carrying 4 wonderful oranges to remind me of one more of life's extraordinary ordinary moments.

I realize that these stories have a lot to do with public transportation. Well, that's no mistake. I am kind of obsessed. In my opinion, Uganda's shared taxis (sometimes called matatus) are the most fascinating, heart-warming, not to mention cheap-as-dirt mode of transport. These 14-seater minibuses are recognizable by a necklace of blue painted squares on the outside, worn crushed velvet interiors, and constant honk/stop/start motion. Each one is run by a pair of guys:  a driver, expertly straddling the line between road caution (much more than boda-boda motorcycle men) and expediency (okay to detour through petrol stations and mount sidewalks), and a conductor, hanging out of the back window to recruit passengers, manage money, and open/close the door. Thousands ...thousands? okay maybe hundreds, but it feels like thousands... of taxis circle the city on the major roads, taking people to work, lunch, or home for anywhere 200 to 1500 Ugandan shillings (0.07 - 0.53 USD).

My daily taxi rides introduce me to so many interesting people. Even on the less social rides, I get to observe a group of strangers working together. I marvel at the constant shuffling of seats. How children are lifted in and out with a smile. The way that fares and change are passed back and forth, between passengers and conductor, and how everyone accounts for everyone else. When you get on a taxi, it's like joining a team. Your common goal is to get ahead - faster, cheaper, safer. A noble quest. An entertaining ride. And the best part is - it actually works (uh, just hope the door doesn't fall off).

OBVI I'm going to be a matatu for Halloween! Can't wait to post photos of how idea this works out...