Owning a driving a car in Uganda is definitely a steep learning curve. I am now starting to grow accustomed to the sensation of driving over the surface of the moon brought about by all the pot-holes and the famous ‘lying police-men’. When I arrived here, I had thought that the term for speed bumps was sleeping policemen, but I now realize that ‘lying policemen’ is far more appropriate as it holds a double meaning. I have been lucky enough not to have been pulled over by the police so far, but am waiting for the day that I make a silly mistake and get caught by an opportunist copper. A friend of mine was driving along a dual carriage way a few weeks ago. When he wanted to change lanes, he looked in the mirror, signaled and maneuvered. This would seem to be perfectly reasonable behaviour. However, the local bobby would disagree with this, as he was clearly causing other motorists great confusion, as they thought he was going to do a u-turn right in the middle of the road. A few days later, his girlfriend was pulled over, because she had driven over a line that did not actually exist at traffic lights. I believe that she smiled sweetly and promised to remember to drive better in the future and managed to avoid a fine.
I have had to get a couple of things fixed on the car before going on the big journey at Christmas. I managed to get a flat tyre only 24 hours after getting the car. Although I was angry at the time, I now see it as a good thing, as at least I was close to home and able to get it fixed. Neither myself, nor my housemate felt confident enough to change the tyre on our own (I know what you have to do in theory, particularly after watching them change 5 tyres on the Fortportal trip) , so I called my friend’s mechanic the next day and got it sorted. It has then taken me a week of phonecalls and trips to various garages to find the correct replacement. I have heard it said that customer service is everything and nothing in Africa. So while in England, I would have popped down to Kwik-fit or similar, and had it fixed within about half an hour, this option simply doesn’t exist in Uganda. However, where there’s a will there’s a way. I did not really fancy driving through the traffic and getting lost trying to track one down, so I asked in the local garage when they would be getting a delivery. I was told that they could get one the following day, and true to their word, they did. I called them to say what time I would be arriving, then in true Ugandan style, they then called the other place to start sending it (there is no way of beating it – you have to wait a long time for anything, however clever you think you get) and quarter of an hour it arrived on a boda-boda. Perfect! The other thing that needed fixing was the seatbelt. Normally I would have called the good mechanic, but the girl who sold me the car told me that it had already been paid for, so I called up what I expected to be a garage. They told me to meet in a hotel car park in town. So I got there and was then directed to the garage. As soon as I met this guy I suspected that he was a bit dodgy. Within minutes he confirmed my suspicions, as he started to tell me that my engine was making a funny noise and all the rest of it. I made it quite clear that I had not come up the Ribble in a banana boat and the rest of the journey to the garage was passed in silence. When we finally reached the ‘garage’ I realized it was not really a garage, but more like a whole street of markets selling car parts and mechanics. The work space would be a parking space on the road. The weather is getting hotter and hotter at the moment, so I was not impressed when I was told that ‘whoops – this seat-belt (the one that had been paid for already) was not the right one. So off he went into the market to find the correct type. Twenty minutes later he returns, only he has got one for the driver’s side, not the passengers. So off he goes again. By this point, I was literally wondering whether I will melt, fry or spontaneously combust in the heat. I had to send a guy to the shop to buy me water, as there was no way that I was going to leave the car open in the middle of the street. Eventually he retuned with the correct seatbelt and they managed to fit it fairly quickly. Then came the final issue of payment. Even though I had the receipt and everything, yes I don’t have to tell you, do I? It was for the wrong one, and I would have to pay more money. I asked if I could see the price list as it sounded a bit expensive to me. He went to find the price list (which I am convinced does not exist) and came back with another guy. They told me that the price list was in the other office right now, but they were happy to negotiate the price. I got it reduced, but am sure that I still probably paid at least double the going rate.
One thing that I have noticed is that having experience of driving down the promenade in Blackpool in the middle of the season has definitely put me in good stead for dealing with pedestrians here. They certainly do not observe the Green Cross Code. Yesterday, a woman dressed in a full Burkha emerged from nowhere right infront of my car – it almost scared me to death, as it is not a common sight round here, although it is Eid today, so maybe they wear them more for special holidays. When I drove around the corner onto my driveway the other day, I was just in time to spot a woman lying on the ground. I swerved round her and went inside. I then spoke to various people, as I was clearly a little concerned by this, but was told not to worry, she was only sleeping. I thought she was ill, so brought her some water and told her to find a safer place to rest. Each day, more people stroll in front of my moving car with not a care in the world, and each day, more Ugandans are becoming more familiar with my whole range of English swear words!
No comments:
Post a Comment