Boda Boda

Riding the Boda

As those who have visited Africa know all too well, there is a mode of transportation here entirely foreign to Americans – the Boda Boda, or Boda for short.  Bodas are simply motorcycle taxis.  There are literally thousands of Boda drivers throughout Kampala, who loiter around the streets in search of people looking for a quick and cheap ride from point A to point B.  The traffic in Kampala is horrendous – their word for heavy traffic is simply “jam” – so it can take an hour to go a mile in a car in the city during the worst jams.  The Boda drivers, however, are immune to jams.  They simply weave, drive on sidewalks, and drive on the wrong side of the road.  They are incredibly efficient, but they are also the cause of something approaching half of all emergency room visits.

The first few times I came to Kampala, I was a frequent Boda rider – a typical five-minute ride would cost 1000-1500 shillings (about 60 cents).  I have since tried to avoid them after learning about the accident statistics.  Unfortunately, today was destined to return me to the days of old.  Tango, my trusted driver, was a no-show this morning.  I waited for a half hour, and then had the hotel get me another driver to take me into town at about 9:00 a.m.  I had spent the morning reading adoption law and catching up on e-mail and had budgeted my time such that I needed to leave the hotel at 8:30.  I hate being late, so I simply skipped my first stop of the day, which ended up being fine because I was planning on dropping in unannounced on a criminal court judge I knew from his previous visit to Pepperdine.  He didn’t know I was coming, so he didn’t miss me.

I arrived at the Court of Appeals to meet with my friend (from an earlier Pepperdine visit) who schedules oral argument dates for the court.  We had lots of laughs catching up with each other, particularly about the time he got lost for nearly two hours in an American mall.  In the end, I got a date for Henry’s argument (second week of February), and he agreed to expedite the appeal for the American couple who has been in Uganda since March.  If all goes according to plan, they should have their case heard in December.

At the end of our meeting, he called former Principal Judge James Ogoola, who had led the delegation to Pepperdine in May of 2010 for the judiciary’s plea bargaining study tour.  I had seen Justice Ogoola’s picture in the paper that morning, announcing that he had been appointed the new head of the Judicial Commission, an important post heavily involved in appointing judges.  I had also seen in the paper that morning that Uganda’s annualized inflation rate has been adjusted to 30.8 percent, and the Central Bank lending rate has been raised to 23 percent.  And we thought we had problems with our economy . . .

Since I had no driver for the day (Tango was still not answering his phone), I walked the ten minutes or so to the High Court for my meeting with the new Principal Judge (head of the entire trial court system of Uganda).  It took all I had to resist the temptation to jump on a Boda and get there in two minutes.  I had gotten to know the new PJ well during his visit to Pepperdine a couple months ago, so it was good to catch up with him and to talk further about my work for him and others beginning early next year.  He wore his Pepperdine tie for the occasion of our meeting.  I had the opportunity to introduce Shane to him, as well, and Shane will begin working with him on a big project relating to plea bargaining next week.  After this meeting, we were a bit behind schedule for a lunch with another judge, so we jumped on Bodas and headed to the Family Court to meet with the Head of the Family Division of the High Court.  I started off the ride trying to film it with my Flip camera, but twenty seconds into the ride, I decided that hanging on to the motorcycle frame was a better idea than filming.  Fortunately, we made it safely.

It was great to catch up with Justice L over lunch and to hear how his transition from the Criminal Division to the Family Division is going.  (In Uganda, judges are assigned to work exclusively on certain types of case, but are often moved from division to division, which too often results in a loss of expertise).

Justice L’s driver was kind enough to drop me off at Garden City, a mall (of sorts) with the largest grocery store in Uganda.  For nearly an hour, I wandered the aisles trying to take a mental picture of everything they sold so that I could answer any questions Joline threw at me about what they had readily available in Uganda.  Sunscreen was noticeably absent.  So was Coke Light.  Very disappointing.  Apparently, Ugandans weren’t really getting the difference between Coke and Coke Light and couldn’t care less about avoiding the calories.  Accordingly, the availability of Coke Light is decidedly on the wane.  I am going to need to find a dealer and stock up hugely after I arrive.

At 4:00 p.m., I hooked up at a pre-arranged meeting place with a group from an organization called Sixty Feet.  They are a non-profit based in Atlanta dedicated to improving the lives of children in Uganda, particularly those who are incarcerated and/or orphaned — http://sixtyfeet.org/.  I met with their Ugandan director (Moses), and two twenty-something American girls from Florida who are here in Kampala for the next nine months (Kelsey and Kirby).  I was so pleased to meet them and to learn that many of the things my wife and children are hoping to do in Uganda, they are already doing.  They go to three different facilities each week and do a Bible Study/Fellowship time, provide medical care (they have a few local nurses on staff), and try to bring much-needed friendship and encouragement to these children.  They also do many other things to assist with the living conditions.  They offered to work with us to figure out how we can assist and enhance what they are already doing.

When I told them that I wasn’t planning on driving because of the craziness of Uganda traffic, they politely nodded their heads in a very understanding way.  When I asked them how they got around – one of the facilities they go to each week is an hour away – they smiled and told me that they drive themselves.  They didn’t say it (they didn’t have to say it), but it was quite clear who the wuss in the room was.  I learned the hard way today that even the most reliable of drivers isn’t sufficiently reliable.  (Tango had called me apologetically around noon and explained that he had “a problem” and had sent another driver to pick me up, but that driver had apparently decided he was too busy to do so).  Accordingly, I am rethinking my decision not to drive.  As I was leaving, Kelsey and Kirby offered to answer any questions and to be of whatever assistance we needed when we arrived.

The driver that Tango sent to take me back to the hotel actually showed up this time.  Back at the hotel, I spent almost an hour on the phone with the American couple seeking to adopt, explaining what I had learned that day and giving them my two cents on how to best to present their arguments to the court of appeals.  We are going to meet up again on Saturday before I head back to the U.S.

Sorry this is so long again.