in order to get from my village to tororo town (unless i ride my bicycle), i need to walk or hop on the back of a bike to the main road (40 minutes away by foot) and wait for a taxi, which essentially means waiting for anything with an engine on four wheels. i will sit for a while under a tree, watching some bicycles and pedestrians pass, looking northwest for any sign of a motor vehicle. when i see one, i just walk to the road and make the universal "pick me up, please" gesture with my raised hand. unless the car is beyond full or driven by someone with more than enough money to care (unlikely), they will stop and "extend a bit," making room for me and my 1000 shillings somewhere, somehow.
there are no standards. if the car is moving in the right direction, it is good enough. the ride into town is a relatively short, but often eventful one. once i had a flat tire and was stranded for an hour in the blistering mid-day sun waiting for a spare to arrive. on another occasion, the car ran out of gas...not once, but several times. at first i did not realize what had happened. as the driver walked to the front of the car and popped the hood, i thought, oh, he knows what the problem is and will try to fix it. what i did not expect was to see him try to prime the starter/engine/whatever with gasoline that he had *sucked into his mouth*. wow. i was really hoping we would get to town at that point so i could buy him a drink...either to thank him for going that extra mile, or just to clean the freakin petrol from his mouth. but, of course, we didn't make it. out of gas for good this time, stranded again by the side of the road. but, what do you know...another car soon approaches with just enough room for me...so i hop inside, surprise some people with my novice dhopadhola skills, and finally reach my destination.
1 comment:
Funny, Rick, that sounds so much like hacking in Baltimore -- no wonder it comes so naturally to you!
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