Drive Uganda 1: Countdown to 100,000 Miles
In the mid-90s my wife, children, and I lived in Jinja, Uganda and worked with a church planting team, what is now more identified in the United States as The Kibo Group. I often wrote about my adventures and misadventures in and around Jinja. Here I wrote about the fascinating sites and sounds along the roads in Uganda. It was a big day. I would be preaching in Buvulunguti, Uganda village where a church started recently. And our '92 Toyota pickup's odometer would roll to 100,000 kilometers on the way to that village.
One-hundred-thousand is a vehicle's rite of passage, and we males actually bond with the hunk of steel as the 99999 rolls over. You scoff, 'Kilometers!' Mind you, there are more bone-rattling potholes and vehicle-crunching bumps in one African kilometer than in 100 miles on most U.S. roads.
The odometer reads 99938 as I begin, and I make a mental note to watch for the important event during the drive. Driving in Uganda is rarely boring or uneventful. I zoom by a biker with a 20-pound Nile Perch from Lake Victoria laying across the back of his bicycle. A goat, tied next to the road, strains for a blade of grass just out of its reach.
I brake for a few pennies worth of ripe bananas. Ugandan fast food. 99945. Speed zones don't exist but I slow down when I see hundreds of school children in purple, blue, or yellow uniforms, according to their school. 99958. A man is walking and balancing a bed frame upright on his bike. Another man is lugging 50 large baskets to the nearest town. I stop, count the baskets, buy 13 of them.
Hundreds of others carry on their bikes 200-pound sacks of corn, coffee, potatoes, beans, homemade charcoal. I pass a man pedaling at a snail's pace with one woman on front and one woman on the back of his bike. 99977. Rice is plump and ready to harvest. Would-be school boys chase crows from the rice with slingshots. I try to avoid a chicken in the road...don't ask. 99993.
Two young girls walk arm in arm. On his bike, a man is carrying a dead body, wrapped in cloth. A truck is parked in my lane with a flat tire. I think about my flat tires: the broken bike pedal that pierced my tire, the time when one spare tire was not enough, the interesting and creative way Ugandan mechanics break down a tire with crowbars, while I watch, cringe, and finally appreciate their work--well, most of the time.
I check the odometer for the roll over . . . 100007. I missed it! I missed the moment! Or did I?
What are some of the interesting things you've seen on your journeys?