The Worst Taxi Ride Ever

             I have no idea why I failed to mention this story in my previous blog post, but I suppose it is because I wanted to erase it from my memory.  This is another story about an interesting taxi ride.  I never really have an enjoyable taxi ride, but some are more horrific than others.  This one, however, definitely takes the cake.

            Last Friday, I left my house around 9:30 am because I had to be in Entebbe for counselor training by 4:00pm.  I assumed this would be plenty of time because the ride to Kampala is usually three and a half hours to five hours max.  Kampala to Entebbe is a short ride of about 30 minutes, and it does not take long for the taxis to fill since Entebbe is a popular destination.  I got on a taxi (seat by the window, whoo!), and we headed to Kampala at around 10:00 am.  The taxi drove for 15 minutes, and then we ran out of gas.  Of course, we weren’t by any trading center, we were just stuck in the middle of nowhere on the side of the road.  So the driver gave the conductor some money and sent him on boda (motorcycle taxi) to get some gasoline. 

            About 30 minutes later, the conductor came back with a cavera full of gasoline - probably about 5 liters.  A cavera is the term used for a plastic grocery bag – picture a super thin Target bag.  Now these bags aren’t exactly meant to hold liquids, so gasoline was leaking all over the conductor’s hands and the ground.  I seriously have no idea how this bag didn’t break.  The conductor and the driver stood around for about five minutes trying to figure out how they were going to pour the gasoline from the plastic bag into the gas tank.  They tried to look around for a water bottle, but to no avail.  So the driver, conductor and two of the passengers tried to carefully pour the gasoline from the plastic bag into the tank.  As you can imagine, this was quite unsuccessful and gasoline was splashing everywhere.  At this point, I started planning my escape route from the taxi.  You know, in case something sparked, and the car blew up.  I was pretty sure I could get out through the window.

            Thankfully, there were no sparks and some of the gasoline made it into the tank.  The driver and the conductor were covered in gasoline.  So they wiped themselves off on the driver’s shirt, and we continued on our way to Kampala.  We drove 15 minutes before we stopped in Tiryini (another trading center), and waited to fill the taxi.  Meanwhile, I was choking on the smell of gasoline.  We were there for an hour and a half.  So by the time we left, it had taken me almost two hours to move about 40 kilometers.  Not the greatest timing, but I figured we would make good time.  Plus, we stopped at a gas station, so I knew we wouldn’t run out of gas again. 

            I was moved up to prime seating in the front, which was great.  I was sitting by the window, enjoying the breeze and thinking about what I was going to eat when I reached Kampala.  My daydreaming was interrupted when the man next to me got out and a new passenger took a seat next to me.  He reeked of Waragi (Ugandan gin that is sold in plastic pouches), and he was clearly wasted.  He took off his shirt and I was hit with a very potent body odor – lovely.  He then proceeded to lean over me so he could wave at people out the window.  He snapped his fingers, clapped his hands and shouted at all the people he saw on the side of the road.  Meanwhile, his stinky, sweaty armpit was inches away from my face. 

            He then got bored of his waving game, and started to strike up a conversation with me.  I really have no idea what he was saying – it was more of a mumbled ranting.  I did pick up that he wanted me to give him $200 so he could start a trucking business (I think).  Even though I had my iPod on and wasn’t paying attention to him at all, he continued to mumble at me.  I kept thinking, well, at least I don’t have too much longer to go…wrong.

            For some reason, my taxi kept stopping.  We had to load more and more people on, even though we were well over capacity.  We had to load and unload chickens and other random cargo.  By the time I reached Kampala, the ride had taken me a total of eight hours.  I was ready to kill someone.  I even considered taking a private hire the rest of the way to Entebbe.  However, I found a taxi that was partially full, and I decided to just go with it.  Thankfully, this taxi ride was smooth sailing, and I reached Entebbe in a reasonable amount of time. 

            Needless to say, I am so over public transport!