I felt a lot of fear yesterday during our exploration of Kampala City. Fear comes in many different forms, I think, and is sourced from different things. Perhaps how I process this experience of fear depends on how I decide to frame it in my written reflections and conversations with my colleagues.
I really wanted to do some writing last night but I was too tired to coherently describe my experiences and reflect properly on them. At this point in my writing I am still experimenting with various ways to present my experience. I am trying to balance descriptive writing with reflective writing, taking care not to leave out crucial details that might frame my placement experience.
We tried many new things yesterday. What made those experiences unique was the fact that the ‘new things’ we experienced were very much part of daily life in Kampala. Important infrastructures of a city include: transportation, a market, libraries, and schools. The transportation system here is less of a ‘system’ than simply a way of living. The main modes of transportation are ‘boda boda’ and ‘matukas’, on top of walking. Boda boda are motorcycles operated by men who tend to sit lower on he social ladder. It was a sight, having 7 bodas transport the 14 of us from Dewinton Rd. to Garden City Shopping Center. On the boda felt safer than watching people ride it, though I was still very much afraid of falling off or bumping into the busses. I doubt I would ride one on my own; the only reason I was slightly comfortable with the experience was because there were people I was comfortable with around me. What if they kidnapped me? What if they refused to let me off or threatened to hurt me if I didn’t pay up? What if I got lost and couldn’t communicate with them? We also got to experience the ‘matuka’ rides, which were essentially their bus system. How it worked was very communal: there would be a driver, and a ‘chief’ who collected money and rounded people up into the busses according to where they were headed. People would get off wherever convenient, and similarly get onto the busses. It was a much slower alternative because it didn’t operate on a ‘schedule’ the same way that Translink does… it was very flexible, and time consuming, but the people were okay with it because it was simply how it was. I experienced Kampala differently on the boda than on the matuka—on the boda I felt like I was given this special view of Kampala, as a tourist or foreign student. I felt more exhilaration on the boda, though on the matuka I was able to sit back and just ‘be’ in the city. Walking on the streets was a whole other experience on its own. There are very few designated ‘sidewalks’ here, and what we call ‘jaywalking’ is simply known to them as crossing the street. People and cars and bodas and children and vendors all jumble together on the roads, which causes a whole lot of honking. Of course I felt the most basic form of fear then—fear for my life—but after a couple times trying out their system of crossing the street I was much more comfortable with it.
The three places we visited contrasted incredibly with each other. We visited a strip mall (Garden City Shopping Center), the fresh fruits Marketplace, and Makrere University. In the strip mall we saw many more foreigners, and more western- influenced shoppers. It was more familiar, but surprisingly not as comforting as I’d thought a mall would be here. It was out of place, historically and culturally intrusive, and had an imposing presence… as if the Africans were so keen on joining ‘Western’ culture. I saw our culture as materialistic, extremely monetized, and so, so, so shallow. I wonder if anyone had the same experience. It was still calming overall in the sense that we were not bombarded by street vendors constantly, and didn’t get as many stares as we did outdoors. The Marketplace was a complete immersion experience. It resembled the Chinese nightmarket, where people sat with their garden fresh fruits, vegetables, preserved meats, etc…. seeing us in the market made a lot of them bitter, as if we were intruding on a private routine (which we were), and our host Josephine got many insults hurled at her because she was adamant about them pricing reasonably for us. Many of them assumed that foreigner=money=wasteful=can rip us off. I really appreciate that Josephine and Ivan were around to protect us from that discrimination, however understandable it was. I was extremely cautious about my bags and also on following the group, and so the fear I felt was more anxiety than anything. We headed through the bustling marketplace to a bus depot, which was crammed full of matukas travelling to different regions. At one point I lost the group and was constantly approached by drivers who wanted to make extra money off me. It was really, really intimidating. I felt really out of place and foreign, but not in the homesick sense either. It was just a realization that I was something out of the ordinary for their every day life and business, and they were not trying to apprehend me in any way. It was simply a ‘business opportunity from the West’ for them. There was a lot of noise, and pollution, and flies, and fresh food, and people! Very, very overwhelming for my senses.
Makrere University was a relief and retreat from all the hustle and bustle of the city. It was very tropical—there were pelicans and storks everywhere—and students were sitting around just hanging out or studying. There were a lot of really beautiful statues, and overall the university exuded history and culture. It was such an enriching space, and we got many less stares from students.
