20th of February, 2018.
Next morning I am hoping to be picked up soon. Laugh. Suddenly a woman, believe me: a woman stops. She looks a little suspicious if should give me a lift or not but at the end she say: “Get in!”.
To be honest and not ungrateful she is kind of rude and drives like crazy. But I would figure out why a few minutes later.
We stop and there is another pick up waiting for us. Two men outside and one on the back seat. She say I should go with them because they will drop me in Kampala. I am a little suspicious now but I decide to take my chances.
I go in front and the guys are also kind of serious and also drive like crazy. When we stop for something between breakfast and lunch, walking into the restaurant in a gas station, the young and very tall man, who remained on the car before, is walking in front of me now and when he sits at the table I look at his hands. At the same time he asks to the guard: “Can you take these out, please?” He is using handcuffs. I am travelling and would keep going for the next few hours with a prisoner. Of course I ask the driver what is going on and he tells me the guy is a Nigerian with an irregular situation in Uganda. At the end it is not that bad, right? The driver and the second man on the back are not actually police officers but immigration officers.
I was hopping to get my picture in the Uganda Ecuador point this time but it did not happen. I did mention to the driver but I was sleeping all the way and I do not know if he forgot or what but we arrived in Kampala around two o’clock in the afternoon. They leave me on the Ministry of Transport and something and the driver give me ten thousand for dinner. I already had though that if he gave me something I would accept this time so I did it. It is very central Kampala. A Kampala that I had not seen the other time I was in Uganda. Reality it is a hard and contradictory word.
Once in there, I get into a room and ask to use the phone to call Saidi. People are half of way to being nice. Saidi does not pick up and middle time one of the guards offer me to stay in his house. I do not fee like trusting him though. So when I go to another room to get some connection (I was hoping Saidi had sent me an mail) I ask to one of the women there if she knew it the guy and if I could trust on him. She answer me something that made sense: “It is weird, because here in Uganda we do not do that. It is not our culture to invite someone that we just met to stay in our home.”
No answer from Saidi. I search for two things online: a place where I could get connection for longer (because they would close at 5.30 p.m.) and a second option where I could ask to make my camping. I find a Coffee nearby and a Rugby Club just after.
At the Coffee, actually a library of old books, lovely well decorated in a beautiful garden place, I ask to use the wi-fi to a nice looking and slightly old Indian man. Unfortunately they are almost closing but he let me use anyway. No answer from Saidi. I decide to explain the situation to the man (he looked really nice) and ask to make my camping in his garden. He understand but say the decision does not belong to him but to his wife (how cute!) and he believes she will say no (how bad!). Middle time, I am playing with their lovely black Labrador. I even meet a nice girl who had already backpacking around Africa and had written a book about it.
Before I leave (I presumed no camping would be made it), the nice man offers me to use his phone and try to call Saidi. He finally picks up and I talk quickly to not abuse of the kindness of the nice man. Saidi is still in Rwanda. Actually right now he is still in there. Laugh. So in front of me this time, realizing I already had not a place to stay for the night, the nice man asks his wife if she would like to have a backpacker for one night not in the garden but in the guest house. Her answer it is: “Not really.” This time I do not cry like that time near to Layounne, when another woman refused to help me. I just smile, shake their hands and leave. Now I am thinking – is that possible she did that to make me get stronger? Laugh. Laugh.
Going to the Rugby Club, I see a police officer on the way. A woman. I decide not to suffer too much this time and walk to her and we talk. The Police Station is not far but she is just going home so I go over there alone.
At the reception everything is fine but again the thing they keep repeating more it is “Do not worry: you are safe!” – Of what? I ask myself.
The responsible for administration, unfortunately I cannot remember his name, it is a nice man, who use to do a lot of charity things and he keep repeating not just that but how he would help me. I would stay in one of the rooms.
He drives me to a supermarket where I would buy my dinner. There is another man with us and they both pay me something to eat, some fruits and a orange juice.
Back in the station I am dying to sleep so I eat very fast. I put it out my mattress in the floor and that is it. Next morning, very early again I would leave. Luckily the front road is just the one I need to be on for hitchhiking.
P.S.: The photograph is from Imena Arts Centre, in Kigali.