I left Lake Bunyonyi at 7 in the morning. I could have caught the midnight bus, and in retrospect I wished I had, as my trek involved a motorboat to the shore, a taxi to Kabale, driving around waiting for the minibus to fill for about an hour before heading to Mbarara, the sweet taxi/minibus driver, Aaron, being concerned about my safety in the bus station, and so drove his minibus through the station and then waited until they found another minibus going to Fort Portal (which I keep wanting to call Port Fortal). That minibus, of course, needed to drive through town for about an hour, filling up even more than 4/4. In the back row, the last person who squeezes in applies pressure to those around him, like a tupperware lid that’s warped in the dishwasher and now bulges out instead of fitting smoothly.
In Malawi, even before going more than 3/3 was illegal, I never saw a minibus fill with more than 4 per row and maybe a one other before leaving town. What happened after ton completely depended on how many people wanted to get on, but the minibus would set off while we could all still breathe. But this one, eesh.
In the front seat there were 3 or 4 people. There were enough people that in order to let some of them out the driver had to get out and let people crawl out of his side. There were 6 people in the first row of back seats, including the conductor. There were 5 people in the next row, and 4 in the back, But then there were also a couple of people standing and at one point some guys sitting on other guys’ laps.
The professional-looking woman sitting next to me got tired of this behaviour fast, but didn’t so much about it other than sigh discontentedly, shake her bewigged head, and mutter in Luganda—only occasionally loud enough for the conductor to hear. It’s always interesting to me to hear and see what people will do when minibuses are being ridiculous. I bet we could have got them going if we had all threatened to walk out after we got to 4/4. I wonder if it’s respect for people trying to make a buck, fear of not being able to find another minibus, or what. At any rate, no one did anything to stop us from being sardined in. Not even the two army guys.
The funny thing was, shortly outside Mbarara, there was a police trap, so about 8 of the guys had to get out and ride boda-bodas* to a point past the trap where they could reconnect with the minibus. One of the older gentlemen was none too happy about being forced onto the boda-boda. At one point we stopped and traded passengers with another minibus. I asked where that one was going, and was told Kasese, which is also where my minibus was going, so I’m still not sure what that was about.
At Kasese I had to transfer again to another minibus. At least I was still in the back. Every conductor tried to get me to sit up front; none of them understood that the increase in space is in no way enough to make up for the heart attack induced by seeing everything the driver narrowly misses.
At Fort Portal, the minibus driver flagged a special hire driver,** who charged me quite a bit too much, but I couldn’t get his price down. And after 11 hours of travel, I didn’t care anymore, anyway. I continued on to Chimp’s nest even though I didn’t get the text saying my reservation had been accepted until the 8th. I was glad I continued on, though, because as soon as I got there, it was magical. Well, maybe not magical, but I had people welcoming me and taking my pack, which for once was completely welcome (how can I explain how bone tired you can get doing nothing but sitting there, being jostled around, and fitfully napping all day?).
The owners are a married couple: he’s either Zimbabwean or South African and she’s Kenyan. She asked me what I needed, suggested I order dinner before I went to my room, offered to arrange hot water, and then made sure it all happened. I could finally relax.
Bird call was all over, not as varied as at Bunyonyi, but still extensive. And then the chimps started to call, too. It sounded like they were having a party, and I was a little put out at not having been invited. The new group of chimps that are being habituated live right near chimp’s nest, so it will be interesting to see how that changes things.
After an early dinner (my first food of the day!) I met a family, 2 sons and their mother. One of the sons translated for defense attorneys at Guantanamo, and also works on tracking down money laundering. So obviously, I loved chatting with them in spite of my all-over exhaustion.
*motorbike taxis
**Can I just take a minute to be really really appreciative of how many people went a little out of their way to help me and to make sure I didn’t get lost or feel abandoned? None of them hooked me up with friends, as near as I could tell, there was no payoff that I saw, and I wasn’t getting charged the mzungu price in the minibuses. These were just people going the extra mile to be a little nicer than they needed to be.
