Monday, March 5, 2018

Valentines and Speaker Trucks

I suppose that when I left the familiar confines of my office I should have known.  That traffic would be bad that is. It was Valentines Day, and somehow that means crazier than normal traffic. But on that somewhat ordinary day, it didn't cross my mind. Now on my drive home from work, there is one short stretch of back roads that is very narrow.  It is only about a 15 m long stretch of road, but it is too narrow to fit two cars driving in opposite directions comfortably that is.  But I suppose I have somewhat assimilated, because I have become used to driving with less personal space and somehow manage to drive beside another car on that stretch without too much stress on a regular basis. But this, this was Valentines Day.  And before I begin this story I must explain one thing. . .

There are multitudes of what I shall call "speaker trucks" here in Uganda.  They are large delivery style trucks packed to the rafters with speakers that drive around and broadcast obnoxiously loud messages about various things.  They advertise upcoming events, give opinions on politics and a variety of other platforms.

On this day, Valentines Day, I was approaching the precarious narrow stretch and I saw a speaker truck approaching.  I decided to drive like a Canadian and politely wait until he passed before proceeding to the narrow stretch of road.  The two cars behind me apparently did not appreciate my Canadian style of driving because they became impatient and started honking.  So what's a girl to do but proceed.  I thought it would be ok, until I was about halfway through and suddenly I was feeling pinched for space.  So I did what any normal person would do and I stopped.  At this point, his gigantic speakers were at window level with my car and all I could hear was the pounding music coming out.  All of a sudden, dead silence.  And then a voice on the microphone "Madam, you proceed, it is ok" and before I knew it a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) driver got off his motorcycle to direct me.  I couldn't see where my tires were, but he could so I appreciated the effort.  And the gentleman in the speaker truck kept on giving me orders/encouragement such as "That is right Madam, you proceed"  "Yes, you keep proceeding" followed by "yes, yes"  "yes, you proceed."  I think my favourite part of all was the grand finale, when I had finally reached the end of the precarious stretch of road and he got o his microphone and said "Yes, you are welcome."  I thought he was proud of himself for giving me such good directions, but later I asked my husband what he meant and he thought he was appreciating my driving.  Whatever he meant, I feel as though there is no shortage of comic relief in the midst of seemingly ordinary events like this. I am sure the entire neighbourhood got entertainment out of watching the scared foreigner trying to navigate roads that were narrower than she was used to, all this with a running commentary from the speaker truck.

Moments of laughter and moments of kindness.  I do appreciate the willingness of the local people to direct and help me through.

One of the famed speaker trucks