Hope in Uganda afterall...

Well, this wont be political diatribe. This infact will be far from that, its about the spirit of (some) Ugandans, and the beacon of hope that we hope will spread throughout and sundry, the verve that it should be.

This is about a taxi conductor who defied all known habit and did what's right, it is about, in part, lady luck and how she smiled down on me.

Thursday morning, i leave home, hitch a ride with a neighbor because my car had problems. Thursday evening, i arrive to town at around half 6pm from Entebbe and subsequently jump into a taxi to Wandegeya for that much needed haircut.

7.00pm, contentedly seat on the barbers chair, his fingers and clippers precariously going through my hair. I sigh contentedly as i hear the familiar buzz of the clippers next to my ear. Five minutes into the appointment, i go through the familiar habit of absentmindedly checking my pockets to make sure everything is intact, especially when i have moved from crowded places to quieter ones. I do this out of habit, really, for i dont expect anything to have gone awry, but as they say, good habits, good benefits.
This particular time, i do the necessary and immediately notice there is something wrong, i jerk up with a start, eyes popping out of sockets, i barely whisper 'My phone!' I frantically search through my pockets and man-bag for the phone, but as the panic goes and the realization sets in that one of my phones is gone, i smile sadly and think to myself, 'Oh that Taxi', 'Oh all my phone contacts!'
That taxi i awkwardly entered, that banged up taxi with the loud music, that stupid taxi stuck in jam for 20 minutes, the same taxi with this big haired neighbor, a lanky fellow who couldn't stop peering at my phone screen to look at my sordid text messages. Ha!

The barber offered helpfully, 'Try calling the phone, someone just might pick it up, you never know!' I pursed my lips and my memory took me to a time when the same thing happened. About 8 years ago, i left my phone in a taxi and when i tried to ring it a few minutes after i realised it was lost, some one picked it up and exclaimed in luganda to his friend i assumed 'Heh! this one has left his phone in the car, hmmm.' Not entirely believing his luck, and trying to trap same luck before it flew out of the window, ended the call immediately and subsequently switched the phone off! It doesn't suffice to mention that i tried to call the phone desperately, again and again, but as they say... alas!

Getting back to Thursday night, i jerked out of my reverie and took charge, called my phone, and after a few rings, some one picked it up and to my amazement said, again in Luganda. 'I am the conductor of this taxi, (gave me the number plate) We are bound for Kawempe. 'You left your phone in our taxi!' he added. Then, with an urgency in his voice, offered 'Take a Boda, we are still stuck in the jam, i am sure you will get us before we cross the nothern bypass. 'Hurry because we are already late!' he unecessarily added. 'Call when you see the car' he then spelled out the number plate again!

I did as ordered, head half done, looking ridiculous with what can only be described as a "lopsided mohawk" clipped hairs on my sleeve and collar, also half believing my luck, quickly paid the barber and firmy said 'nkomawo!'(i am coming back!), jumped on a boda and sped off. Bwaise bound jam this time worked in my favor, and we quickly, almost acrobatically, sped past the cars lined up in a long jam snaking, winding, and inching its way slowly towards the nothern bypass. I would call the taxi tout every two minutes to half confirm that he was still into the deal!, and also that i was not being 'punk'd!'
We caught up with the car just as it crossed under the bypass bridge and the boda screeched to a halt. I urgently run to the conductors side, and breathlessly, profusely thanked him as he handed me the phone. I duly, quickly forked a 5,000 shs note out of my wallet and offered it to him. He took it from me and smiled gently.

As we headed back to wandegeya, i started thinking to myself. Uganda has a number of good hearted people whose little acts of honesty really make a big difference. They do make a big difference to ugandans and foreigners alike.
Imagine a tourist walking down kampala road, drops a 50,000shs note and a stranger quickly walks up to him, taps him on the shoulder and says 'You dropped this Mr!' and with an apologetic smile on the tourist's behalf, hands him the dropped 50k!
Personally i would wallow in my own rapidly blurted out 'Thank you's.' This tourist would do too, plus he would leave Uganda with a good feeling in his heart, i think!.
These little acts of honorableness are like little dots, coordinates on different parts of a map, scattered around, and with goodness and a general will of ugandan people, can soon spread out like a "good rash!" Hopefully.

My silent musings, wishful thinking was suddenly, interrupted by my boda boda man who screeched, yet again to a halt, avoiding an accident, a boda infront of us had crashed into the ground and three people down with it, a bicycle suddenly joined the pile up and there was a mass of bodies on the floor. The passengers, confused by what had struck them so suddenly, jumped up and started for all directions. Oncoming cars, bicycles and boda-bodas swerved to avoid hitting them, as i looked on fearfully, scrunching my eyes shut as one limping passenger almost got run-over by a sturdy SUV. After my Boda-boda man regained composure, (quickly as we were at a fast moving round-about area), he slowly navigated his bike past the boda man infront who was quickly picking himself and his boda off the tarmac, starting and revving it even before seating astride and speeding off, of course to avoid the wrath of ugly mobs who quickly but inordinately steal from hapless passengers involved in accidents.

As we reached Wandegeya, i shook my head part in disbelief of how fast the last 15 minutes of my life had gone by, and partly, how much adrenaline was coursing through my veins at that very moment. I paid off the boda, and on shaky, jelly-like legs, walked back to "La salon" the real name of the salon i had previously half done my head, plopped down on the barbers seat, closed my eyes and offered up a silent Prayer of Thanks.

'Whoa, What a Thursday evening!' i exclaimed to no one in particular.