On the road again
Goin’ places that I’ve never been
Seein’ things that I may never see again
And I can’t wait to get on the road again(On The Road Again, Willie Nelson)
Christmas Eve and we were on the road from Kampala to Jinga where I would experience one of the loveliest Christmases I’ve ever had. We drove past rather dreary scenery with tree after tree, leaf after leaf clothed in dusty hues of brown before we hit the highway. And before we knew it, the highway burst into colour with a microcosmic view of life in Uganda fitted onto chrome and steel. Families on motorcycles heading off for their Christmas celebrations bearing gifts and food and other essentials…livestock sticking their heads out the inch of space available to them, bunches of fruits hanging alongside in gay abandon, gifts peeking out of packages. Every motorcycle carried the story of a family on it and I was absolutely fascinated.
On the journey from Lira to Kampala, other stories were told. Of traders heading back from their villages into the city, carrying home farm produce to sell – pineapples, bananas, chickens perched on long stalks of grass. Rides of hope of a more comfortable life.
Jerrycans perched on motorcycles were a common sight as we hit little towns and the roads adjoining them. According to Government sources, only 15 percent of the population in Uganda (independent sources put this as low as 9%) has access to electricity. This translates to 29 million people – mostly low-income populations in rural areas and urban slums – who burn fossil fuels, usually kerosene, for light and heat. It is estimated that 1 million litres of kerosene are burned daily in Uganda alone.
New days that brought with it trips of promise and some work somewhere…
And then there were the style icons, dressed in all their glory for a ride out with their partner in the countryside…others to a Christmas mass.
The clothes of the women on the motorcycles now remind me of the story I heard about the Gomesi (a common costume of some tribes in Uganda) whose origin is linked to a Goan named Gomes, of the trip I made to the bustling market in Kampala to buy local fabric, of the time we stayed over at Jaja (Aunt) Ruth’s house and the clothes she gave us to wear for the night, of the beautifully dressed women in local costumes that we saw at a Buganda introduction (wedding) ceremony we attended. It’s amazing how, at times, recurring icons or images can capture the life and soul of a place and, in doing so, create enduring memories and associations…motorcycle diaries…
Note: The pictures have been taken with an iPhone and driving in a car at fairly high speeds