Of course you know.... This means War!

...In the Picture, My Kenyan friend Emily by the Old Taxi Park. Photo taken by Kiti...
There is a war raging in Kampala on a daily basis. War, you ask? In Kampala? I thought the war was in the North of Uganda. Yes there is that horrible war in North Uganda that has been going on for almost twenty years, but I don't mean that one. I'm referring to a smaller war that goes on a daily, even hourly basis. The war between commuters and taxi conducters!
Twice a day I have to strategise for my commute to work or home, and at the end of the day, I must also plan my strategy for the following day or following few days.
There are several modes of transport in Kampala. There's is the 'boda-boda' system, convenient bicycle and motorcycle taxis that weave in and out of traffic, and get you where you want to go in the shortest possible time. Though sometimes GREAT risk to life and limb, as you are at the mercy of this driver, who could be in any state at the time. One friend has actually had the misfortune of discovering her boda driver was drunk after she had got on. She only realised when the reek of alcohol hit her face after they were heading down the road at breakneck speed. Luckily she got home safely. Another form of transport is the 'special hire', which is hired 'door to door' taxi. Obviously a more expensive form of transport. And finally there is the 'matatu', which we in Trinidad would refer to as maxi, also called taxi here.

Taxi fares, like all prices in Kampala, are negotiable. When you get into the taxi, you've got to know what you want to pay, or the conductor will short change you. Sorry for you if you don't have exact change! The fare also varies according to the time of day. Highest at rush hour in the morning, and around 6pm, and also high late at night when there are few transport options. Case of supply and demand.
After four months of getting robbed on a daily basis, I've worked out my strategy. I hum theme tracks from old war movies as I make my way to the taxi 'stage' (taxi stand). First I informed my employers that, since I live pretty far from downtown Kampala, and I'm at the complete mercy of conductors when I come to work at 8a.m. sometimes paying close to three times the fare, I would no longer subject myself to such exploitation. I changed my hours to 9 - 5. Instead of spending 1 hour in traffic on what should be a 20 minute ride, I now leave home at about 8.30 when taxis are looking for passengers, instead of the other way around.

My next strategy was to learn how to count in Luganda. Though most people in Uganda, including conductors speak English, Luganda is the first language in Buganda Kingdom, where Kampala is located. In the beginning I could count to five, as the numbers 1 - 5 were quite similar to Swahihli numbers. The fare that I should pay is 500 shillings from Kiwatole to Kampala Centre, 200 from Kiwatole to Ntinda, 300 from Ntinda to Kiwatole. So if the conductor said "Bi Tano" I knew he was meant 500. Now 600, 700, 800? It was all Greek to me, or should I say Luganda. So I decided it was time to learn: Lukaga, Lusanvu, Lunana, as long as I heard those words, I knew not to get on!

Finally, the key to winning the war, having exact change! I have gone through incredible lengths to ensure that I have the right change for the fare. I went to the bank recently and withdrew about US$20 in change - just for taxi fare. The tellers eyes nearly fell out of her head when I requested the cash in 500, 200 and 100 shilling coins (about US 25c, 10c and 5c). I then stacked all of my little coins into stacks for each day of the week. And I wouldn't use that change for ANYTHING else. I remember one day a poor woman asked if I had change for 5000 shillings. I sympathised with her, but told her point blank "Sorry, NO". I had gone through too much trouble to make my change.

Though I said 'finally' in the last paragraph, this last point is the real 'Victory Point'. The conductors, like to collect the money before they reach the stage, in order to save time, or to have enough time to find the wrong change to give you! So they ask who's coming out at the next one or two stages, and request payment before they reach. Me, I've learned. I just keep silent. When we reach my stop, I just push my way out, and regardless of the fare - lukaga, lusanvu, lunana, I just put my five hundred shilling coin into the conductor's hand and walk away without looking back, whistling my victory tune to myself. The Daily Battle - fought and won!