The only way to describe the traffic in Kampala at the moment is ridiculous.
Yesterday, a 4km journey to a restaurant took nearly an hour. I could have walked it more quickly. In the end, I honked the horn for the entirety of Acacia Avenue, drove on the pavement and tried to breathe in so my car could pass through the tiniest of gaps.
Tonight was meant to be book club, hosted by a friend who, quite literally, lives over the hills and far away. We crawled through the traffic at a glacial pace feeling quite miserable and sorry for ourselves (not helped by the dismal Leonard Cohen music emitting from ipod). As hunger and temporary insanity gradually kicked in, we had the realisation that we had plenty of food and drink to keep us going. Moments later, the cork was popped on a bottle of sparkling wine, narrowly missing a passing boda driver! The ipod was hijacked and after a few bursts of S Club 7 and other cheesy classics later, spirits were somewhat lifted.
Unfortunately, we never made our final destination. There were too many anecdotes along the way about people being stuck in traffic until 11pm the day before. Instead we turned back and went to the nearest member's house for a mini book club on our side of town.
Ten out of ten for effort though. Better luck next time I hope ...
1 comment:
The traffic police seem to make "da jam" even worse. I wonder if anyone has ever really done a study, because clearly to me the traffic seems to flow when you let it takes its own course like a flock of birds in flight.
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