Travelling to Kampala

Is it only in Africa where a 20-mile bus ride can take 2 hours? After a full morning of birding around Entebbe’s botanical gardens, I headed back to Entebbe Backpackers to pack and shower before heading off to meet Gen in Kampala. As expected, I paid for 2 seats due to the over-humungous size of my backpack…not a problem. I knew the distance was not great and was warned that it might take 1.5 hours to get to the capital because of traffic. After picking up and dropping off en-route what seemed to have been the entire population of Entebbe, the driver finally pulled over and said that that was the end and we should get out. Having spent close to 30 minutes to travel the final half mile, I planned on walking several blocks north with my bags to get on the north side of Kampala’s center to get past what had to be the worst traffic jam in the history of traffic jams, but instead I chose NOT to follow my own advice and took the first boda-boda that I saw. This, after figuring that there was absolutely NO WAY that a Ugandan motorcycle driver would be able to take not only my weight, but the 60+ pounds of weight that was in my 2 backpacks. He assured me that it would not be a problem and after negotiating a price of 5,000 Shillings (approximately $1.20), we were on our way. Two seconds into the journey I realized that the 2-3 mile journey to the Kolping Hotel would not be a quick one. Words cannot describe the traffic jam that we found ourselves in. With no traffic signals, stop signs, nor care for road rules, the streets of central Kampala were literally lacking in a foot of clear and empty space between any two vehicles and/or pedestrians…all of which chose their own routes to traverse the city. After the first 20 minutes we had traveled less than one full block and the thought of my knees being shattered by oncoming traffic made me rethink traveling on these death traps. Thirty minutes into the journey my driver, who had been sandwiched between the handlebars and my massive pack had suddenly dismounted and said something to the like of “We must now walk”. We pushed the moto, with the backpack balancing on the bike’s seat, through traffic and eventually to a gas station another half block away. We had run out of gas!! No big worries. We filled up and were off once again, weaving and dodging foot traffic, trucks, buses, and other boda-bodas. We were suddenly free of the jam and sped at an alarming rate down Bombo Street. It soon became apparent that my chauffeur did not know of the Kolping Hotel and on two occasions stopped and asked for directions. Almost one hour after starting the journey I could see the Kolping Hotel sign. One hour to travel what had to be no more that 2.5 miles!! Feeling bad for the driver, I gave him a few thousand extra Shillings, shook his hand, and headed inside to check in at reception. Gen had not yet arrived back from her site visit to Arua and I patiently waited in the lobby, all the while enjoying a refreshing glass of passion fruit juice that the receptionist gave me. Not 10 minutes into my wait and I could hear Gen’s voice coming from the parking lot area. After almost a month separated, we were together once again!