squeezed between a plump African mom and a father with his son on the 10th lap, maybe I'll try to some extent set up. I get a painful elbow hit in the ribs, my knee comes roughly to the iron rod of the front seat, it is stuffy and fiercely hot. No matter - we still get a place in the matatu (shared taxi) to Kampala.
As Annika asked us what we would do at the beginning of our visit with her the most, whether we want to acclimatize for example, first in peace, we replied: No, no, straight into the full life. No mercy for us.
We now have it. A matatu - the usual means of transport in Uganda - has 15 seats, one of them for the driver and one for the passenger sitting behind the people on the move roadside collecting, zoom in or out and transported cashed. 15 seats are occupied but certainly not a sign to him that the van is full. On the contrary. Then it really starts! With visible pleasure takes the passenger to the challenge, up to 22 people + luggage to layer in the coach. A miracle of space - and at 35 ° C in the shade. Spa vacation with free sauna! Who would have expected ... Hartmut with his long legs you have with a young pretty Ugandesin transported forward next to the driver (the lucky one!), Annie is sitting back somewhere in the depths of rolling cubbyhole. I even found my place near an open window. The wind is good, even if he twirls into a lot of red dust.
roars given us the radio happy Swahili advertising in the ears. On the way we get a first impression of Uganda. Or better a second. The first was the night before the sight of a wriggling three inches big cockroach on the floor of our room in a guesthouse between Entebbe, from where we picked up Annika, and Kampala.
There we had already met some of Annika's super-cute DIGUNA team from Aru (Congo) that was doing errands in Kampala. Everything on station on staple foods such as fruit, rice, beans, cassava flour is used, etc. also, do not exist in Congo, but must Uganda organized laborious, technical hardware, doctor visits and even Behördenkram in Kampala (600 km from Aru away).
on the street to Uganda's capital are lined up distributors to retailers. In adventurous timbered open stands, covered with corrugated iron, straw or rags, they offer their goods: clothing, pineapple, melons, furniture, mattresses, plastic utensils, baskets, cola ... Women with loads on their heads walk upright on the edge of the road, cyclists push their vehicle that is loaded with banana trees, iron bars or live chickens, the nearest market. In Kampala
increases this confusion many times. The matatu is spitting out to us and in the middle hinein in ein unbeschreibliches Chaos: Massenhaft Autos auf vierspurigen Straßen, Stoßstange an Stoßstange, hunderte von Pikipikis (Motorradtaxis), Wogen von Fußgängern, die sich unter Lebensgefahr im Verkehr bewegen. Rote Ampel? Regeln? Spuren? Fußgängerüberwege? Totale Fehlanzeige - hier fährt jeder, wie es ihm passt und wo gerade eine Lücke ist. Wozu ist schließlich die Hupe da? Demzufolge hupt wirklich jeder wie verrückt - eine einzige Kakophonie. Wir versuchen eine Straße zu queren. Es ist völlig sinnlos zu warten - die Straße wird niemals frei, und es fühlt sich auch kein Auto- oder Motorradfahrer jemals bemüßigt, anzuhalten. Also läuft man einfach los und hofft, irgendwie mit dem Leben davon zu kommen. Im Zickzack und Eilschritt geht es durch den fließenden Verkehr, es geht zu wie beim "Verrückten Labyrinth", nur tausendmal schneller. Man muss hier gute Reaktionsfähigkeiten haben ...
Jetzt verstehe ich auch, warum sich hinten auf fast jedem Matatu ein Aufkleber befindet: "God cares", "Jesus is my security" oder einfach ein schlichtes "Halleluja!" für Christen; entsprechende Pendants mit "Allah cares" und ähnlichem für Moslems. Mit solchen aufmunternden und zweckoptimistischen Sprüchen muss man doch einfach heil durch den Verkehr kommen ...
Die Stadt ist überfüllt mit Menschen, furchtbar loud, pungent fumes filling one's nose (catalyst? What is this?), waste piles of rotting fruit, paper and empty plastic bottles lined the roads. Given the ubiquitous red dust that hangs in the air and covered everything with a thick layer - now in the dry season, particularly corrosive. A favorite question of our daughter, "Have you so red boogers?"
on every free surface, be it ever so tiny, make the width smaller dealers and sell peanuts, bananas, sesame cookies or sunglasses. The funniest combination of products I've seen in a young man: Q-tip and badminton rackets. No idea if the place ever for a buyer. Probably not.
children sit with their mothers in the dirt beside the road. I am surprised that they endure this for hours sitting still (there is no outlet a few inches away from Staßenverkehr!) - And with the noise and dust. Many things are hard to bear for our Western eyes - the lives of these children I have to go very close.
Annika leads us to the second-hand market, and we dive into a narrow, dark, strange surreal world. The cobbled wooden planks stands are close together and are covered with tattered rags that overlap. So hardly a ray of sunlight penetrates to us, in the twilight we passed through narrow passages between shoes, table and kitchen linens, clothes and blankets. Where does all this only come from? Land here our Red Cross bags of old clothes? Looks almost like it. "Muzungu, Muzungu!" rings out from everywhere. "White! White". This could be a business ... but not with us. We are much too busy to us to weave through the confusing maze, enhanced by the subsequent mass. From all sides we are compelled us to look at the goods, like with physical prompts. Privacy? What is it? This is not afraid to take us by the arm on the shoulder to (Knock "Hey, my friend! Us ..."), the back a bit in the right direction to push.
Then we get a great spectacle of commercial art commanded, initiated most of our own daughter. She claims to still need a blouse and her trained eye has seen in the relentless chaos of offers a decent copy. You know, after 18 months in Africa, how the wind blows there.
Kitischen glance it makes the blouse fabric slip through their fingers. Slightly disillusioned she puts it away again, then again takes to finally ask: "How much is it" You have to understand that speak poor English Ugandesen a grotto - inelegant and flat. And exact English has our daughter become accustomed in recent months ...
"15 000" the response of the seller. 15 000 Ugandesische Schilling - which works out at less than 5 €. Too much for these conditions. Way too much.
And so we go:
Annika surprised: "Oh, no, not really!"
"Yes, 15,000."
"That's too expensive. Give me a better price!"
"Okay. 13,000."
"No, no That's Muzungu-price!" (With this set earns our daughter almost every time a laugh, or at least a smile from the dealer).
"No, that's not price-Muzungu! 13 000 it's okay."
"No, it's not okay! Give me your best price!"
"12 000 is my best price. I give it for 12.000."
"No, it's still too expensive. I give you 5.000 for this."
"Oh no, ..." usw. Die Diskussion wogte noch weitere 10 Minuten hin und her, bevor unser werter Nachwuchs die Bluse niederlegte, ohne Kaufabschluss und mit einem Abschiedsgruß auf den Lippen zehn Meter weiterging, nur um von der Verkäuferin zurückgerufen zu werden und das Verhandeln erneut seinen Verlauf nahm.
Am Ende zog Annika triumphierend mit einer netten schwarzen Bluse für 6.500 Schilling davon. Wichtigster Grundsatz beim Handeln: Gelassen, ja regelrecht gelangweilt auszuschauen. Anders als z.B. bei südeuropäischen Händlern, wo es laut, lebhaft und mit Händen und Füßen zur Sache geht, this indifference is announced. Quietly and calmly say, it bored the eye can wander through neighboring stands to do when you have all the time, the little girl on it has not been missed and its effect. Nothing annoys them more than if it has the feeling of being drawn than whites across the table. You want to be all a part of Africa, but unfortunately their skin color is because sometimes in the road.
lunch we rest our weary bones in a vegetarian Indian. When we hesitate in the choice of meal are served to us the nice Indian restaurant owners a small selection of food for a better decision. Everything is very tasty - and we will enjoy a free appetizer ...
Many businesses here are in Indian hands. I must again investigate why this is so.
afternoon we stroll a bit in the "richer" financial district around. Masses of huge marabou sit in the trees, like us at the pigeons ...
Before we enter a shopping mall for a milkshake, which is similar to western shopping malls (albeit with fewer services), we scanned by a security ... Before each bank, that such security officers to search bags and light up with metal detectors before being admitted. The presence of police, military and other uniformed ist auffällig.
Wir merken, dass wir nicht mehr viel aufnehmen können und machen uns bald auf den Heimweg - wieder mit dem Matatu - zu unserem Gästehaus. Dort treffen wir "unsere" Leute wieder und haben ein vergnügliches Abendessen mit gekochter Banane (nicht süß!) und Erdnusssauce. Lecker! Das war unser erster Tag in Afrika ...
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