Hakuna MATATU

Matatus are officially ridiculous. Even though the Lion King takes place in Africa and matatus exist in Africa, they have nothing else in common. (Except for the occasional animal found on a matatu) Trust me, these  awful, smelly, crowded 14 passenger pushes have nothing on Pumba and Timon's song.

On Monday, Godfrey (my research assistant/Uganda navigator/translator/lifesaver) and I traveled to Nakasongola prison. This particular prison is located in Central Uganda, 115 kilometers outside of Kampala. Say the roads were paved and we were driving my Ford Focus, we could reach Nakasongola in an hour. But due to the fact that the roads are not paved and the matatus stop every 10 minutes to either let a passenger off or pick one up, the journey all and all took about 4 hours, each way.

One note on Central Uganda, its terrible. Even the people there said so. It was hot. With no breeze. And no water. (And they said it wouldn't rain again until the end of July...)

The visit at the prison went great. The welfare officer and deputy commissioner were very hospitable and quite friendly. They seem more than willing to partner with NGOs and are eager for assistance. They have even conducted their own needs assessment! It was quite encouraging to see prison officials take interest in the welfare of the inmates and to take the time to listen to the inmates concerns and then document them in way to gain partnerships with NGOs.


The best part of the visit was when they brought in twelve inmates for us to speak with. We were all crammed in to a small room and they didn't understand my "accent". So Godfrey did the talking. They were more than willing to share their thought on the conditions at the prison and the challenges they face. They spoke of their desire for more educational materials to allow for more inmates to teach one another. They told us of the injustices they have faced in the courtroom and with the police. All in all, the conditions of the prison were not the worst I have seen, but their complete lack of water and electricity is a huge problem.

The most shocking thing is still the way prisoners are treated by prison officials. They laugh with one another. And trust one another. Handcuffs seem to be barely used. Godfrey and I were left alone in a room with twelve inmates. (I couldn't have felt more like a minority. Me, the white American woman, with twelve black Ugandan inmates, and my black Ugandan research assistant.)

It was then time to endure another matatu ride to return home. We actually got back on the same matatu we rode there in. Yet this time they crammed the 14 passenger van with about 18 people plus a few babies and some chickens! Yes, chickens! And they were under my seat! Tied up and sqwuakking, I was mortified and very concerned for the safety of my ankles! I tried to conceal my fear, but when they had a slight outburst my instinct was to squeal, immediately and permanently remove my feet from the floor and place them safely on the seat. The Ugandans thought it was quite entertaining and I can say as a matter of fact that I definitely furthered any stereotypes they had of Americans.

Besides the chickens, the overcrowdedness barely effected me because the Ugandans decided it wouldn't be right to crowd/squash the muzungu. So every other row in the van had four individuals squeezed in, while my row only had three people. I cannot decide what to call this. Backwards racism? Positive discrimination? Part of me hated it, but more of me loved having room for my entire bum on the seat.

I think I was called a muzungu 445 times today. Everyone thinks I am inherently rich due to my lack of skin pigment. They are a tad confused. Because I actually do not want to or have the means to buy everything at every market. I do not want fried grasshoppers. Or the milk in a re-used oil cannister. Or the day old crumbly dry taste like cardboard cakes. Or a pair of men's socks. Just saying.