Monday, December 31, 2018

UGANDA: The choo choo train by Kireka

Uganda used to have one of the most amazing public transportation systems before the dogs took over.

While living in Kireka (just a short drive from Kampala Centre), we had a garden. It was a rather big garden.

Daily, we skipped naps. Oh, how we hated those naps. But it was okay if we went to the garden to pull weeds. Which we loved.

Around 3pm, instead of taking a nap, we were in the "garden" pulling weeds.

It also happened to be the same time the train was passing through. Okay, maybe it was bigger than a garden. The train passed through the garden daily.

We would wave at the train the whole long and feel like in charge of the train. It used to pass us as we waved. It would go to Jinja, Tororo, pass Mbale then proceed to Soroti then Gulu. We loved that train. We would make up stories about each stop that train made.

Until one time, one brat decided that we should make a fire in the garden and roast lumonde (sweet potatoes). It was not our first time but this time, our brother was daring us. LIGHT A FIRE SO HIGH SO THE WORLD WILL KNOW.

There was a great gentleman who used to keep an eye on us as we played in the wild. He also used to bring a sack of charcoal home daily.

OMG! When we had the fire, gentleman brings charcoal and asks which kid is bad so he can take the kid and cook kid.

Who even does that? We all then proceeded to take our naps and avoided the "garden".

Sometimes, I wonder. Did people on that train think? We were the only brats waving at that train. Do you think they ever stopped to think why 6 kids were always there waving?

Did it make a difference?

Fast forward 25yrs. I am standing at the driveway to put Mini on the yellow bus. She was 5yrs old. We live by an industrial parc. She keeps flenching her fist every time a truck passes. Then the truck blasts its horn.

I do not know the kid truck salute. The kid stands by the road, lifts up hand forming a fist then moves it up and down signalling for the truck driver to blow the horn.

The truck drivers love this. Most of them work long hours. When they are on the road and see little brats begging for the horn? These are parents too. So, the gentleman who used to bring charcoal, he threatened us because kids need a nap.

Martha Leah Nangalama
I refuse to nap


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