Walking Through The Slums

Yesterday I met with William Kwezi for the day to explore some of the other parts of Kampala. We met in the usual hyper-congested "old taxi park" (literally, where the taxis park and pickup new loads of people) just within the borders of downtown. A note about the taxis: here, what they call taxis are the equivalent of our busses. You pay a flat rate, usually between 600 and 1,000 shillings (about 25 to 50 cents) and it takes a predetermined route through some of the most confusing, disordered, unkept streets imaginable. Instead of a bus, they use the matatu. Now, imagine the classic 60's VW hippie-van, and instead of shag carpet on the interior... actually, forget about the interior, just picture about as many people as you can fit in one vehicle all sitting halfway on top of one another, all of whose heads go bobbling back and forth as the tires vainly attempt to weave around the potholes. There are no signs of destination on the vans either, a money collector leans out the window as it speeds past and simply points in the direction they are headed. They stop for just about any kind of physical gesture that may be made from a potential customer. Several have stopped just by my making momentary eye contact with them as they passed, yelling at possible travelers. 

Now, the equivalent to the taxi is the bodaboda: a scooter or motorcycle. Tell them where you want to go, barter a price, jump on the back, and hold on for dear life. They pride themselves on being quick. Which they are, and are much more time efficient than the "taxis" since they can weave in and out of the other stopped cars and use the sidewalks if they so desire... in fact, they can use anything if they want to. Just make sure to keep your knees plastered to the bike or you may lose them as you pass oncoming traffic. Anyhow, public transport is an experience in itself. 

So, I met William at the "old taxi park" and we took off to the west side of the city. As we arrived at the destination, I took a glance around and didn't notice anything unusual about the surroundings. It looked just like the rest of the outskirts of the city did. However, we began walking and took a turn down a hill into a valley... and it was then that I saw what looked like a sea of rusted tin and debris. The slum. It hides in the shadows of the new building projects and businesses on the hills that surround the bleak looking valley. As we walked into the midst of the huts and shacks that make up this area, I noticed each of them was not much bigger than a standard bathroom. Some with straw roofs, others with rusted-through tin. Some with mud walls, others with poorly laid brick. The alleys were dominated by the presence of the deep gutters that ran along them. These fill with water during the rains and the people use them for washing or bathing... a filthy composition of mud and garbage. However, these were only meant to withstand a certain amount of precipitation. During the wet season, the entire valley floods and people live in a tepid pool that invades their "houses." 

However, the people don't seem glum or dispirited. They work. They continue to push on and make do with what they have. Persistence when most would concede defeat. And it spreads for nearly a mile... much further than it should. 

The worst part about this, was that by this point, I was not in a state of shock at what I was seeing. I had accepted it. I had seen living conditions like this in so many other places all throughout the city. The only difference here is the amount of them packed together so tightly in such a grim space. I knew in my head that I should be affected by this, but I was neither in awe or disbelief. That may be the saddest part. The steady diet of being surrounded by this each day and then reading in the papers each morning about the corruption in the political system and not seeing any changes in the national budget to help eventually settles in, and the undeniable fact that there is no aid coming in the near future for these families is unwillingly digested. It's like when you start drinking and hate the taste, but you do it because everyone else does and eventually it feels good. Yeah, everyone else does it, but this won't ever feel good. At least I hope not.