Rebel in a Bubble

I sat in an Entebbe - Kampala matatu today. I was on my phone, trying to keep the world out of my head, trying to be invisible. Then I heard them. And something stirred me to sit up, say something, defend someone, be the human rights activist I have been calling myself. But I did not. You see, the matatu conductor (some of you call them touts) was telling these two Germans that he would charge them 15k to sit with their back packs in the back seat. Ideally, each seat is 2500 so the three seats should have been 7500 whether there was a bag or a person in the third seat. He had tried to fix their bags in the boot (some of you call it trunk) but you see these matatus don't really have a reasonable boot you can fix a bag in. But even then, he wanted to charge them extra whether they sat with their bags or he threw them under the seats. Now, before I mention my next statement I should let you know that I know many people around me are very uncomfortable with straight up words like ra...

Reflections of a Ugandan labourer. Working in Uganda is like being a teenager, in Uganda.   I’ve been a working Ugandan for about four years now, and the things I’ve met make me wonder if I really want to stay here and work here. First, I’ve met the Ugandan colleagues and bosses, who have absolutely no respect for time, or for quality delivery. On my first job, one of my bosses accused me of being too strict. She said, “You can’t come here thinking the ideals you studied in school will be achieved. This is reality, and people don’t always do what they’re supposed to do. Learn to live with it.” I was fresh from university, and many people said I needed a few years and I would be like everybody else, and abandon my impatience with slow paces, and join the clique. It’s been four years now, I still don’t understand why we agree to do one thing in a given time frame, and then take our time to reach there. Nobody cares, you see, as long as something is done, in the end. This is ...