Isaac and I, along with two female teachers, took bodas downtown. I told my boda driver that we were headed to Owino, because we had been told it was not to be missed.
"People say it is busy, busy, busy," I said. "They say that there are many thieves."
The boda driver laughed. "Ah! The thieves. Yes, many thieves. They can take the watch right off your arm. You must be very cautious."
I left my iPhone at home, and Isaac had our money divided in different zippered pockets in his shorts, with a stash hidden in his zippered belt just in case we did get robbed and needed money to get back home. He carried a backpack, but when we got to Owino he swung it in front of him.
On the boda ride downtown, the predictably unpredictable happened:
- Our friend Ashley's boda was hit by another boda who suddenly jutted out of a driveway. [No concept of "right of way."] He only hit the tire, and no damage was done. Thankfully the usual congestion meant slow speeds and no damage.
- At one point traffic came to a standstill because a truck had scraped into the side of a taxi, pushing it into the side of another taxi. The three vehicles were stuck together, and the passengers were casually climbing out of the windows, scurrying over the hoods and catching bodas to continue their journey. Because the accident had completely plugged traffic, our bodas (joined by a fleet of other bodas) told us to get off so they could walk alongside their motorcycles, push them onto the sidewalk, and walk them past them past the accident. Then they stopped, hopped back on, and motioned for us to do the same and we continued on our way.
- At one intersection my boda was stuck behind two taxis. Being one of the few lights, we were waiting for the light to change. When the light did change, one of the taxi drivers didn't notice and didn't move. My boda driver leaned forward and pounded on the back of the taxi to notify the driver. For some reason watching him reminded me of someone prompting a cow to move forward by tapping its hindquarters.
Before entering Owino we first had to have our bags checked by armed police officers -- something that, since the terrorist attacks in Kenya, has become standard procedure. It seemed a little odd at Owino, since the market has many entrances and is pretty fluid.
We entered Owino, and it lived up to our expectations. Stacks of clothes, curtains, fabrics, anything and everything. Buckets of thick g-nut sauce and overflowing sacks of beans and spices. The stench of meat hanging in the heat turned my stomach. We had to be careful not to step on people's wares that were spread out on tarps -- from clothing to dried beans. One twelve-year-old vendor was actually lying on his pile of shoes taking a nap. As we journeyed deeper into Owino, the aisles narrowed and we were completely shaded by the vendors' canopies.
The piles of used clothing, with no obvious organization, seemed impossible to sort through. However, in Owino you have dozens of personal stylists who are sizing you up and suggesting pieces that they guess to be your style and know to be your size. Isaac was delighted by the stacks of T-shirts. Back home he makes a game out of finding T-shirts at thrift stores with strange and interesting slogans. He only visited one T-shirt booth and found, according to him, "gems."
Although the vendors were aggressive, they were pretty light-hearted and fun. Girls' blouses were thrown at me, and I was told to "buy them for my husband." At one point someone behind me draped a pair of pants over my shoulder in an effort to entice me to buy them.
One man told me seriously, "Muzungu, I love you for real!" I just laughed and pointed to Isaac. "This one is my husband!" He bounced back, "What about your friend over there?" The female vendor beside him shook her head and laughed.
We didn't stay in Owino long, and I think if we had gone deeper into the market we could have easily gotten lost. As we tried to navigate our way out, the four of us got separated. Vendors shouted unsolicited directions, saying to our friend, "Your muzungu friends are up there waiting for you!"
We left Owino and walked a block away to a "Green Shops" location. I had never been there, but heard from a smartly dressed colleague that the shops have their employees scour Owino for the best clothes and then put them in an organized shop, complete with racks, hangers and changing rooms. They add a few shillings to each item, which still only comes to less than $4 for most items.
On this day, we didn't realize it, but the Green Shops were preparing to set out new stock on Monday. The stock that we could browse through was pretty well picked through and had little selection, but each item was only 1000 shillings (40 cents!). Each of us girls picked up at least one or two items by the end of the day. I got a dress and a belt for a grand total of 80 cents.
There are several Green Shops locations, and a middle-aged man behind us heard us trying to figure out directions to the other stores. He said, "I am going that way -- follow me!" He kindly brought us to four of the five Green Shops locations. After the first shop, it became clear that he was not really "going that way" -- he was escorting us and then patiently waiting for us to shop at each location.
When I thanked him for his kindness, he just smiled and said, "Maybe one day I will need directions and someone will help me!" We did offer to purchase a pair of shorts he had selected at one store (again -- a whopping 40 cents) but other than that he didn't ask for or accept any other tip. When we got to the last location, he just said, "Okay, I will leave you here" and left.
To begin our journey back home we picked up four bodas. Our fleet of bodas started out, but when big drops of rain began to splash down on us they, barking to each other in Luganda, pulled over in unison. In Uganda, it is entirely acceptable to pull over and wait out the rain.
The eight of us stood under an overhang and watched the downpour. We began to talk and joke with the boda drivers and other people finding shelter there.
"Are you born again?" one man asked me.
"Yes, I believe in Jesus," I said.
"You people who are born again, you can only take one woman," he said.
"Yes, that is true."
"Me?" one of the others piped in. "I am extra born again, so I can have more than one!"
My boda driver was a very serious Christian, carrying a worn New Testament in his shirt pocket. He shook his head and laughed at the one who claimed to be "extra" born again. He lamented to me about the many who claim to be Christians but don't follow Christ. He then turned to one of the other boda drivers and said, "This one is a Muslim! You should ask him to accept Jesus!" and then set about trying to convert his friend, preaching at him that Jesus is the only way to everlasting life.
After the rain stopped we piled back on our bodas. I reminded my driver that it was slippery and we should be very careful.
"Yes, you fear wounds," he laughed. "We will go slowly, slowly."
On the way home he decided to teach me some Luganda phrases (which meant quickly saying a phrase and expecting me to be able to repeat it) and inquiring about my family. He was surprised to learn I didn't have any children, and said that he himself had four.
"And now we are finished," he said. "Four is enough. Children, they are expensive, and it is not good to have too many if you cannot care for them."
"Yes," I agreed. "You want to make sure they have good food, and have good education."
He nodded, and I wondered if all those billboards with smiling African doctors or confident business women encouraging Ugandans to find their own "smart family planning solution" were having an effect.
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| Taken by a friend on another occasion ... We are getting used to "the new normal" here in Uganda! |
TIA ... This is Africa!
always an adventure!!
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