Jam

Traffic jam, to be precise. From Cairo to the Cape, from Dakar to Khartoum, the continent’s capital cities are, more often than not, in a jam. The one exception to this rule was Harare: sadly only because Zimbabwe’s petrol pumps ran dry. Instead, one would see lengthy queues of stationery vehicles outside fuel stations, waiting for days for fuel deliveries.

For many years, I considered Nairobi jams to be the worst, but first Lagos and now Kampala top my mental chart. There are parts of Kampala (Kibuye, Kabalagala, Bwaise) which are almost permanently at gridlock. The four ingredients which combine to make Kampala jams so unpleasant are the disregard for almost all driving etiquette, an absence of any apparent controls over the issue of driving permits and roadworthiness of vehicles, the prevalence of boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis) weaving through congested traffic, and hot weather. Add in the frequency with which Government VIPs sweep by the waiting traffic, preceded by brutish sirens, motorcycle outriders and armed police escorts, with a few opportunists following the cavalcade, and Kampala’s odious traffic jam recipe is complete. It is without a doubt the least attractive aspect of living in this city.


There’s a famous Disney cartoon, Motor Mania, one of the first episodes in the "Goofy the Everyman" series. In this cartoon, Goofy undergoes a Jekyll and Hyde transformation when he gets behind the wheel, from a mild-mannered family man to an aggressive beast, and provides a lesson in how not to drive safely. Sadly, we are all Goofys on Kampala roads. Polite drivers have no chance. It is perhaps a lesson in life: in Kampala, one has to seize opportunities when they present themselves. The extraordinary thing is that all the attrition and aggression this results in does not cause more road rage incidents.

And with 50-100 imported vehicles registered every day, it is hard to see how the traffic situation is going to improve. There is little that can be done to improve Kampala’s road network, so the only solutions in the long term must be a switch to public transport (unthinkable) or a switch from four to two wheels. 18 years ago, when I visited Ouagadougou in Burkina Faso, I was struck by the fact that “le moto” appeared the main mode of transport. I saw this again in Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam six years ago, where waves of slow-moving motorcycles dominate the city roads. Kampala is an obvious candidate to switch from four to two wheels – I have been giving it considerable thought in recent weeks as my journey to and from the office becomes slower and more unpleasant almost by the day.