Rollercoaster Rides

Well, okay, I didn't literally ride on any rollercoasters, at least not the sort that you find at the PNE and suburban carnivals. But some of the minibuses (matatus) that I ventured forth in across the Ugandan countryside perhaps shared some characteristics with the traditional rollercoaster. Sure, they look different, they only have four wheels, they don't do loop-de-loops (if you're lucky) but they can very effectively evoke that freaky feeling in the pit of your stomach that rollercoasters tend to elicit when you're hanging suspended upside down forty feet above the ground. The minibuses that transport people (and goods, don't forget the goods) around Uganda are designed to carry 14 passengers. In Kampala, that's generally the case - 14 people plus the driver. Not too squishy. Room to reposition your legs, ensure some blood flow to the extremities, shift your bum when it starts to go numb. The countryside is a different story. When it comes to matatus, more people means more money for the driver and conductor. And often the matatu you're in is the only one that will be through that area for a number of hours. The local people who live in that area have no other means of transportation so the conductor does his best to get everyone in who needs a ride. You quickly learn that to get anywhere in a rural region of Uganda, you'd best be prepared to get cozy with your seat mates. I was commonly in matatus with 22-24 people, plus livestock (chickens, no goats), produce (pineapples, matoke, onions, jackfruit), and belongings. Some of the buses have racks on the top for the myriad mattresses, bags, and shopping. Some don't. I spoke with a traveller who had been in a matatu with 32 people. This basically means that a third of the passengers are sitting on top of the other passengers. Fun way to meet new people. Generally these hardy vehicles are travelling on dirt roads or paved roads that haven't seen new asphalt for quite some time - lots of potholes, lots of washouts. The terrain definitely contributes to the sense of riding a rollercoaster, as does the somewhat erratic driving behaviours of many matatu drivers. But you know, pretty cheap carnival ride, compared to what you'll pay at the PNE. Once I managed to silence (or at least generally ignore) that little voice in my head making comments like "no seatbelts", "trapped inside", "when were the brakes last serviced?", I found myself thoroughly enjoying the chaotic nature of transportation in Uganda. A comraderie seems to develop among the passengers as we shift and shuffle to take on yet another person, children on laps, adults sitting on one bum-cheek, chickens squawking from beneath our feet.

I'm on another sort of rollercoaster ride now, that of readjusting to life at home. This ride is more emotional than physical, more theoretical than tangible. I arrived home in Victoria on August 6, having flown into Vancouver International Airport and then hopped aboard BC Ferries for the ever-beautiful crossing to Swartz Bay, where I was met by my lovely Mom. I am happy to be home. I'm so pleased to have much of the month of August to readjust to life in Canada before starting my fourth and final year of midwifery school. But I am certainly feeling the confusion and imbalance that comes with shift of place, shift of reality, shift of economics. Our privilege and wealth (on a general scale, as a society) is at times overwhelming, at times comforting. It's going to take some time to find my balance.

There's more to come.

Heather