Tuesday morning we had scheduled hair cuts and our normal monthly trip to the city for groceries and other things. Because of a dispute over boundaries for putting up a fence, Floyd ended up having to stay home because the land surveyor was coming. I don't drive in the capital that often, but had done it a handful of times. The kids and I loaded up and hit the road just minutes after 8am.
There was nothing exciting on the hour long trip from our house to the northern most suburb of the capital, but not long after we turned onto the main road to take us into the city things started going downhill. The drive to our haircut appointment should be 1.5 to 1.75 hours on a normal day. Since the appointment wasn't until 10:30, I was actually worried about getting their too early. (it's at someone's house, so showing up 20-30 minutes early is not polite)
We hit a traffic jam and I was wondering if I'd be late. I pulled up the location on the GPS and it said I would arrive in 56 minutes. Since it was only 9:05, I had about 30 minutes to spare, so I wasn't too worried yet. Now, we crept along with traffic and at 9:43 I pulled up the GPS again. This time it said I had 33 minutes to go. Notice, I had not made enough progress. If I didn't get pass the traffic within 15 minutes, I'd certainly be late. I went ahead and sent a text message to let her know that we may be late. At 9:58 I passed through the major cause of the jam and thought I had a chance to be only a few minutes late. I was so relieved!
But that didn't last long. Less than one minute later, I entered the round-a-bout under the Northern Bypass. This is really the sign that I've entered Kampala. I've drawn a picture to help you see what happened because it might be hard to visualize. I just needed to exit at the second road on the round-a-bout. Their was a line of cars in the inside line who needed to continue around further and no-one in my lane except bodas (motorcycles). At that moment, I noticed a large truck that had exited the bypass and would be entering the round-a-bout. This wouldn't be a problem for me because he was a short distance back on the ramp and I'd reach my exit just as he entered the round-a-bout.
Now, I notice a boda that is to my left side, the same side from which the truck is coming down the ramp. I notice that the boda will not have time to pass before the truck arrives but he doesn't seem to be slowing down. I say out loud, "Mr. Boda man, what are you doing?" Of course, this is all happening very quick, so just as I say that, I see that he's actually coming to the side towards me instead of slowing down, but he hasn't looked this direction to notice that I'm there.
I quickly double check my right side and there's a line of cars, so I can only give him a little space. I also realize that I still have no threat from the big truck, so perhaps if I speed up, I'll get out of the way and the boda will just go in behind me. So, that's what I did. I scooted over to give him as much room as I can and speed up to take my exit.
I thought I had made it through just fine, but then suddenly I here a loud but relatively quick thunk on the car. I look in my side view mirror to see the boda had just hit the back corner of my van with his handle bars. Unfortunatley, he can't correct, hits my car again and then falls over behind me.
Now, I'm immediately assessing what to do. I can see that he's getting up and I remember that everyone has always advised us not to stop in any situation because of the problem with "mob justice". It's just me and the kids in the car and I know that I haven't done anything to cause the accident, rather I did my best to try to avoid what I saw coming and I can see that the driver is getting up fine, so I decide to keep driving. I only know one police station and it's not exactly close.
We've witnessed situations where boda drivers will chase after a person that they deem responsible for their situation, so I was really nervous of this happening. I take out my phone to call Floyd. As I'm telling Floyd what happened and asking where to go, the boda man has sped up and comes next to my car banging on my window. Now, mind you, I'm driving a van and he's on a bike. He's close enough to bang on my window while steering with one hand. Then, he goes in front of my van and stops his boda. I literally slam on the brakes fast enough to avoid a collision, but now I'm pretty much trapped. If I go forward, I have to go over his bike. Other cars are annoyed and just going around us.
Floyd is still on the phone and I've got my window down yelling to the man to go to the police station. I'm certainly not getting out of my car to talk to some guy in the middle of the road. But, oddly, he isn't coming anywhere near my side of the car. He's just standing in the middle of the road, right in front of my van, yelling to people around. An older man comes up on his boda and stops right by the passenger window. He's talking to the man but I don't know what he's saying because it's in the local language. I also notice that many people in the shops along the road are talking to that man. It seems that they are all telling him to move out of the way.
Finally, I realize that the man isn't coming to my side, so I roll down the passenger window to talk to the older man who's now yelling at the boda driver. I say, "Ssebo, tell him we go to the police." Finally, the boda driver comes to the window and says, "mami". He's probably going to start trying to argue with me but I just cut him off, "we go to the police!" He pauses, looks around, and then says, "ok, we go to the police."
Now, I'm asking Floyd where to go because I only know one police station and it's back on the other side of the bypass where I had come from. Floyd tells me to just go there. So, I got through the next round-a-bout and continue back where I had come from. The boda driver is next to me, but then as I pass through another round-a-bout, he slows and I continue on. As I finally reach the police station, the boys are both telling me that they can't see the boda man. We haven't seen him since that round-a-bout I mentioned.
The police station is quite a crowded area, so I can't find anywhere to park. I forgot to mention that this whole time, I'm talking to Floyd on the phone and then he's calling Pastor Makumbi to get advice/instructions and then calling me back. Pastor Makumbi said to go up the next road and find a place to park, and then walk to the police station. One concern is that if I park at the station, a corrupt officer may try to take my keys and keep me there. If I don't have the car there, that issue is avoided. He tells me to go however far I have to go, even if it's to Bulondos Apartments.
That gives me an idea. I know Bulondo's and I can safely park there and I can get there directly from where I'm at (I've had to drive around while I figure out where to park). Since I'm going to Bulondo's, Floyd calls our friend Davis, who works there, to see if he's around. He calls me back and says Davis will be waiting for me and he'll walk us to the police station.
I arrive and Davis is there waiting. Floyd calls again and tells me that Pastor Makumbi called our friend Steve, who holds a local political office. I'm to wait outside until Steve gets there with another man that he's bringing to help me with whatever I need. You see, unfortunately, going to the police station is possibly just as scary as dealing with a mob. You don't know if they'll actually help you or if you'll be faced with serious corruption.
Davis, the kids, and I walk to the police station. I'm actually grateful for this walk because I'm getting fresh air and movement and it's helping my head clear. You see, I forgot to mention that throughout this process I've gone back and forth from self-control to crying. I was trying to remain calm and clear minded, but I was really scared. Scared of a mob. Scared of going to the police. Just scared. When Floyd called as I drove to Bulondo's, I said, "I'm going to cry." He tried his best to encourage me and build up my strength, but I just cried as I drove and listened to him. Then, when I got to Bulondo, Davis said, "what happened?" and I couldn't talk without crying again. So, the walk was good.
Now, we reached the police station and Davis suggested we stand under a big tree just passed the building so that we could wait for Steve. We never reached the tree because a boda pulled up right in front of me carrying Steve and his friend. I cannot describe the amount of relief I felt when Steve was right in front of me. He greeted all of us, gave hugs, and then asked me to tell him what happened. Of course, as soon as I started to speak, the tears welled up. I said, "I'm going to cry", and he said, "no, Tamra, don't. You have to be strong." (in the culture here, you will almost never see anyone cry. crying would be a problem while talking to the police).
I pulled myself together and told him what happened. He assured me that everything was fine. He told me I didn't need to make a police report. The boda driver had never showed up and the bodas are a major problem. Most of them don't have licenses or permits to operate and many drive stolen bodas. He explained that these guys will try to get a mob around you and harass you at the scene to get money from you. Of course, I already knew this, but he was describing for me anyway. He said that since I had the intelligence to not get out of the car and to say we're going to the police, the guy realized I wasn't going to give him money. He probably drove off when we reached the more crowded area.
Now, Pastor Makumbi concern was that if the man went to a different station or came later to make the report, it could look like I was guilty of something because I hadn't made a report. But I was assured that I didn't need to make a report. If something came of it later, I had 3 witnesses: Davis, Steve, and his friend (an enforcement officer), to testify that I did in fact come to the police station and they all advised me that I didn't need to make the report. Also, the mark on my car clearly shows that he hit me on the back corner and the location of the accident shows that I was not the one to hit him.
Steve was so relieved because when Makumbi called, the communication wasn't completely clear. He thought I had hit someone badly and was afraid he'd find me already in a holding cell and my car impounded. He was so relieved that when I first told him what happened, he literally laughed out loud.
So, after all that, they said I was safe to continue on with my day. I'll tell you, I was still scared but trying to put it out of my mind. I was nervous that I might pass that boda again. What if he recognized me and tried to harass me again? Of course, I also had to go back into that horrible traffic and slowly creep along, again!
I did realize three very significant things.
1) when that boda driver blocked my car, he never came around to talk to me. He just stood in the street waving his arms and yelling to all the people in the area. I realized as Steve talked to me that this guy was most likely trying to draw people around to create a mob and intimidate me. I conclude that God was saving me from that because not one person came around to join this guys protest. He stood there alone the entire time. In fact, as I mentioned, I noticed several people yelling at him in a way that made me think they were all telling him to go away. I assure you, this is not common. I have never seen an accident here where a mob didn't form.
2) I am usually a positive person and try to drive in a non-aggressive way. That day I was frustrated and being grouchy because the unnecessary traffic and rudeness of so many drivers had just built up. Now, Floyd says that it's bound to happen driving here, that you can't keep from getting a negative attitude about driving here, but I believe it is a choice. We are each in control of our attitude and our reaction to the situation around us. I had begun to drive like so many others around me. Now, I've racked my brain to figure out if there was something I could have done differently and I do believe I did my best. I didn't think to honk at the boda driver to alert him to my presence, and that might have helped, but that's the only thing I've come up with that I could have done differently.
However, even though my grouchy attitude didn't really affect this accident, I was convicted that I would not allow myself to be overcome by the negativity around me. I drove the rest of the day with a more positive attitude, laughing at some of the insanity around me, and just not letting it affect my spirit. That made the rest of the day much easier. :)
3) Floyd is very much my protector. He takes his role as the man very seriously in this way. No matter how strong and independent I am, I know that he will always be the one to put himself in harms way, always defend me, always try to protect me from any negative situation or possible difficulty. I can only imagine that while he spoke to me on the phone, trying his best to direct me, encourage me, comfort me, and everything else, he was feeling as much stress and frustration as I was because he could do nothing. He couldn't rescue me. He couldn't fix the situation. He couldn't spare me from dealing with any of this. He was over an hour away and could only help me by phone. I was exhausted physically and emotionally, and he was possibly just as much so.
Now, what probably seems like such a simple incident was actually one of the worst experiences I've had. People don't take responsibility for their own actions. You can't even stop to help make sure that someone is okay because you'll either get accused of causing the accident or mobbed - both primarily because getting money out of the "muzungu" is the primary concern. For these reasons and others, simple things become a big deal and very scary!
On a funny note, we finished our grocery shopping and were walking to the car at the shopping center. Troy said, "ice cream?" I agreed, after all, it had been a long day. We walked up to the counter and the young lady there greeted us. She always remembers us when we come to the shopping center, whether we get ice cream or not. The kids were ahead of me and when I came to the counter, she said, "Mami, you look soooo tired!!" I told her it had been a rough morning and she said, "I can tell. You look ____" (she did some body language to mimic how I looked physically tired). That pretty much summed it up!
There was nothing exciting on the hour long trip from our house to the northern most suburb of the capital, but not long after we turned onto the main road to take us into the city things started going downhill. The drive to our haircut appointment should be 1.5 to 1.75 hours on a normal day. Since the appointment wasn't until 10:30, I was actually worried about getting their too early. (it's at someone's house, so showing up 20-30 minutes early is not polite)
We hit a traffic jam and I was wondering if I'd be late. I pulled up the location on the GPS and it said I would arrive in 56 minutes. Since it was only 9:05, I had about 30 minutes to spare, so I wasn't too worried yet. Now, we crept along with traffic and at 9:43 I pulled up the GPS again. This time it said I had 33 minutes to go. Notice, I had not made enough progress. If I didn't get pass the traffic within 15 minutes, I'd certainly be late. I went ahead and sent a text message to let her know that we may be late. At 9:58 I passed through the major cause of the jam and thought I had a chance to be only a few minutes late. I was so relieved!
But that didn't last long. Less than one minute later, I entered the round-a-bout under the Northern Bypass. This is really the sign that I've entered Kampala. I've drawn a picture to help you see what happened because it might be hard to visualize. I just needed to exit at the second road on the round-a-bout. Their was a line of cars in the inside line who needed to continue around further and no-one in my lane except bodas (motorcycles). At that moment, I noticed a large truck that had exited the bypass and would be entering the round-a-bout. This wouldn't be a problem for me because he was a short distance back on the ramp and I'd reach my exit just as he entered the round-a-bout.
Now, I notice a boda that is to my left side, the same side from which the truck is coming down the ramp. I notice that the boda will not have time to pass before the truck arrives but he doesn't seem to be slowing down. I say out loud, "Mr. Boda man, what are you doing?" Of course, this is all happening very quick, so just as I say that, I see that he's actually coming to the side towards me instead of slowing down, but he hasn't looked this direction to notice that I'm there.
I quickly double check my right side and there's a line of cars, so I can only give him a little space. I also realize that I still have no threat from the big truck, so perhaps if I speed up, I'll get out of the way and the boda will just go in behind me. So, that's what I did. I scooted over to give him as much room as I can and speed up to take my exit.
I thought I had made it through just fine, but then suddenly I here a loud but relatively quick thunk on the car. I look in my side view mirror to see the boda had just hit the back corner of my van with his handle bars. Unfortunatley, he can't correct, hits my car again and then falls over behind me.
Now, I'm immediately assessing what to do. I can see that he's getting up and I remember that everyone has always advised us not to stop in any situation because of the problem with "mob justice". It's just me and the kids in the car and I know that I haven't done anything to cause the accident, rather I did my best to try to avoid what I saw coming and I can see that the driver is getting up fine, so I decide to keep driving. I only know one police station and it's not exactly close.We've witnessed situations where boda drivers will chase after a person that they deem responsible for their situation, so I was really nervous of this happening. I take out my phone to call Floyd. As I'm telling Floyd what happened and asking where to go, the boda man has sped up and comes next to my car banging on my window. Now, mind you, I'm driving a van and he's on a bike. He's close enough to bang on my window while steering with one hand. Then, he goes in front of my van and stops his boda. I literally slam on the brakes fast enough to avoid a collision, but now I'm pretty much trapped. If I go forward, I have to go over his bike. Other cars are annoyed and just going around us.
Floyd is still on the phone and I've got my window down yelling to the man to go to the police station. I'm certainly not getting out of my car to talk to some guy in the middle of the road. But, oddly, he isn't coming anywhere near my side of the car. He's just standing in the middle of the road, right in front of my van, yelling to people around. An older man comes up on his boda and stops right by the passenger window. He's talking to the man but I don't know what he's saying because it's in the local language. I also notice that many people in the shops along the road are talking to that man. It seems that they are all telling him to move out of the way.
Finally, I realize that the man isn't coming to my side, so I roll down the passenger window to talk to the older man who's now yelling at the boda driver. I say, "Ssebo, tell him we go to the police." Finally, the boda driver comes to the window and says, "mami". He's probably going to start trying to argue with me but I just cut him off, "we go to the police!" He pauses, looks around, and then says, "ok, we go to the police."
Now, I'm asking Floyd where to go because I only know one police station and it's back on the other side of the bypass where I had come from. Floyd tells me to just go there. So, I got through the next round-a-bout and continue back where I had come from. The boda driver is next to me, but then as I pass through another round-a-bout, he slows and I continue on. As I finally reach the police station, the boys are both telling me that they can't see the boda man. We haven't seen him since that round-a-bout I mentioned.
The police station is quite a crowded area, so I can't find anywhere to park. I forgot to mention that this whole time, I'm talking to Floyd on the phone and then he's calling Pastor Makumbi to get advice/instructions and then calling me back. Pastor Makumbi said to go up the next road and find a place to park, and then walk to the police station. One concern is that if I park at the station, a corrupt officer may try to take my keys and keep me there. If I don't have the car there, that issue is avoided. He tells me to go however far I have to go, even if it's to Bulondos Apartments.
That gives me an idea. I know Bulondo's and I can safely park there and I can get there directly from where I'm at (I've had to drive around while I figure out where to park). Since I'm going to Bulondo's, Floyd calls our friend Davis, who works there, to see if he's around. He calls me back and says Davis will be waiting for me and he'll walk us to the police station.
I arrive and Davis is there waiting. Floyd calls again and tells me that Pastor Makumbi called our friend Steve, who holds a local political office. I'm to wait outside until Steve gets there with another man that he's bringing to help me with whatever I need. You see, unfortunately, going to the police station is possibly just as scary as dealing with a mob. You don't know if they'll actually help you or if you'll be faced with serious corruption.
Davis, the kids, and I walk to the police station. I'm actually grateful for this walk because I'm getting fresh air and movement and it's helping my head clear. You see, I forgot to mention that throughout this process I've gone back and forth from self-control to crying. I was trying to remain calm and clear minded, but I was really scared. Scared of a mob. Scared of going to the police. Just scared. When Floyd called as I drove to Bulondo's, I said, "I'm going to cry." He tried his best to encourage me and build up my strength, but I just cried as I drove and listened to him. Then, when I got to Bulondo, Davis said, "what happened?" and I couldn't talk without crying again. So, the walk was good.
Now, we reached the police station and Davis suggested we stand under a big tree just passed the building so that we could wait for Steve. We never reached the tree because a boda pulled up right in front of me carrying Steve and his friend. I cannot describe the amount of relief I felt when Steve was right in front of me. He greeted all of us, gave hugs, and then asked me to tell him what happened. Of course, as soon as I started to speak, the tears welled up. I said, "I'm going to cry", and he said, "no, Tamra, don't. You have to be strong." (in the culture here, you will almost never see anyone cry. crying would be a problem while talking to the police).
I pulled myself together and told him what happened. He assured me that everything was fine. He told me I didn't need to make a police report. The boda driver had never showed up and the bodas are a major problem. Most of them don't have licenses or permits to operate and many drive stolen bodas. He explained that these guys will try to get a mob around you and harass you at the scene to get money from you. Of course, I already knew this, but he was describing for me anyway. He said that since I had the intelligence to not get out of the car and to say we're going to the police, the guy realized I wasn't going to give him money. He probably drove off when we reached the more crowded area.
Now, Pastor Makumbi concern was that if the man went to a different station or came later to make the report, it could look like I was guilty of something because I hadn't made a report. But I was assured that I didn't need to make a report. If something came of it later, I had 3 witnesses: Davis, Steve, and his friend (an enforcement officer), to testify that I did in fact come to the police station and they all advised me that I didn't need to make the report. Also, the mark on my car clearly shows that he hit me on the back corner and the location of the accident shows that I was not the one to hit him.
Steve was so relieved because when Makumbi called, the communication wasn't completely clear. He thought I had hit someone badly and was afraid he'd find me already in a holding cell and my car impounded. He was so relieved that when I first told him what happened, he literally laughed out loud.
So, after all that, they said I was safe to continue on with my day. I'll tell you, I was still scared but trying to put it out of my mind. I was nervous that I might pass that boda again. What if he recognized me and tried to harass me again? Of course, I also had to go back into that horrible traffic and slowly creep along, again!
I did realize three very significant things.
1) when that boda driver blocked my car, he never came around to talk to me. He just stood in the street waving his arms and yelling to all the people in the area. I realized as Steve talked to me that this guy was most likely trying to draw people around to create a mob and intimidate me. I conclude that God was saving me from that because not one person came around to join this guys protest. He stood there alone the entire time. In fact, as I mentioned, I noticed several people yelling at him in a way that made me think they were all telling him to go away. I assure you, this is not common. I have never seen an accident here where a mob didn't form.
2) I am usually a positive person and try to drive in a non-aggressive way. That day I was frustrated and being grouchy because the unnecessary traffic and rudeness of so many drivers had just built up. Now, Floyd says that it's bound to happen driving here, that you can't keep from getting a negative attitude about driving here, but I believe it is a choice. We are each in control of our attitude and our reaction to the situation around us. I had begun to drive like so many others around me. Now, I've racked my brain to figure out if there was something I could have done differently and I do believe I did my best. I didn't think to honk at the boda driver to alert him to my presence, and that might have helped, but that's the only thing I've come up with that I could have done differently.
However, even though my grouchy attitude didn't really affect this accident, I was convicted that I would not allow myself to be overcome by the negativity around me. I drove the rest of the day with a more positive attitude, laughing at some of the insanity around me, and just not letting it affect my spirit. That made the rest of the day much easier. :)
3) Floyd is very much my protector. He takes his role as the man very seriously in this way. No matter how strong and independent I am, I know that he will always be the one to put himself in harms way, always defend me, always try to protect me from any negative situation or possible difficulty. I can only imagine that while he spoke to me on the phone, trying his best to direct me, encourage me, comfort me, and everything else, he was feeling as much stress and frustration as I was because he could do nothing. He couldn't rescue me. He couldn't fix the situation. He couldn't spare me from dealing with any of this. He was over an hour away and could only help me by phone. I was exhausted physically and emotionally, and he was possibly just as much so.
Now, what probably seems like such a simple incident was actually one of the worst experiences I've had. People don't take responsibility for their own actions. You can't even stop to help make sure that someone is okay because you'll either get accused of causing the accident or mobbed - both primarily because getting money out of the "muzungu" is the primary concern. For these reasons and others, simple things become a big deal and very scary!
On a funny note, we finished our grocery shopping and were walking to the car at the shopping center. Troy said, "ice cream?" I agreed, after all, it had been a long day. We walked up to the counter and the young lady there greeted us. She always remembers us when we come to the shopping center, whether we get ice cream or not. The kids were ahead of me and when I came to the counter, she said, "Mami, you look soooo tired!!" I told her it had been a rough morning and she said, "I can tell. You look ____" (she did some body language to mimic how I looked physically tired). That pretty much summed it up!
Praising God for protecting you and your family!
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