Public Transport

Saturday, Oct 26

Saturday's particularly striking sunrise moment

Our "Jungle Cookies," as we called them,
 have a slightly different flavour due to the
course pure cane sugar we used. But they're good!

Saturday didn't actually start with the taxi trip to Entebbe. It started with cookies.

The journey via public transport to the beach came later, after a morning of baking followed by an hour or so of helping with lunch at the Baby House. But 1:20 PM (or so) found me, Alyssa and Edith playing musical chairs in a loaded taxi van headed toward "Sports Beach" at Lake Victoria. Here's how the transit works:

How to Ride a Taxi:

1) Hike downhill to the main road. Attempt crossing, depending on which direction you're headed, and stand waiting for a van with enough seats to come by. There are so many taxis it should only take a few seconds...

2) A horn will beep and a hand will wave out the window if a van comes past with an empty seat. Nod your head (or at least your eyebrows) if you want to hop on.

3) Climb into the van and go as far to the back as possible. On the end of each row of seats is a jump seat folded up to make a walkway--you may need to flip one down to complete a row.

4) Sit back and enjoy the ride! There are no seatbelts, so hang on tight! Also, keep in mind that you may very well end up in a completely different seat in a few minutes, as you'll shuffle around a bit as the people beside you get on and off. Finally, be ready to squish! Especially if you're sitting by the door, it's not unusual to end up as one of four or five people packed into a row of seats built for three. (The most I've seen in so far in one row is six people, including two kids, plus a stack of five pillows someone was carrying.)

It takes at least two people to work a taxi: one to drive and one to sit by the door, communicate to potential customers outside, let people in and out and collect money from everybody at some point during the ride. (Usually a fare costs between 1-2500 shillings, or up to the equivalent of $1. The time is not metered; it's more like a bus system.)

Our van finally stopped at a little gravel pull out in Entebbe, but the fun wasn't over yet. Three boda bodas (motorcycle taxis) stood waiting by the roadside, and to my utter surprise I discovered that I would have to ride one.

"You're sitting in front!" I told Alyssa, who grinningly complied. I'd heard stories about these things. In fact, the missionary ladies here had already shared with me their single strategy for riding bodas: hang on tight and pray!

After an exhilarating, if prayerful, ride, we landed at a fenced-in section of sand overlooking Lake Victoria. Time to sit back, kick off the shoes, and eat some of those cookies.