Driving dilemmas

Photo by Rosie Button or her school commuters

Driving in Uganda is a bit like frogger of former Atari fame.  There is a lot of "dodging",  a lot of jostling, a lot of actually driving into the pothole and back up the other side... Today  I had a couple reflections on my drive into Kampala.  

One prelude comment is addressing the sheer privilege we have to drive... it definitely tends to be part of an American identity, to assume the right to drive and assume the need to drive and to assume the independence that one has by being able to drive.  And with this privilege comes an aspect of cross-cultural life which can cause me stress--the conspicuous nature of being wealthy and privileged in poor country.   At this point in time (as compared with even 5 years ago) and at our location (basically a suburb of the capital), it is less of a novelty that we can and do drive, but I am regularly self-consciousness of this and wonder if I'm supposed to be sharing this privilege more. 

One time in the last month, we were heading to town with our staff for a birthday celebration.  On the way, we picked up a young Ugandan friend/colleague.  I shared that I often feel I should be picking up people on my way to town but assumed it best to only pick up people I know.  This friend agreed and shared that just that week, she had picked up a lady with a baby and in the process of trying to drop that lady to her destination hit another lady with a baby who was riding on a boda-boda (motorbike).   I think she was trying to say that we all feel we should help but certain forms of help actually are complicated for all of us.  It's not a wealth thing, a race thing, a privilege thing, it's just that helping people you know is always a bit more straightforward.  


This morning I had another moment of driving "angst"... It has been rainy of late and therefore mud, slippery roads, traffic, etc, leads to more "decision-making" on the roads.  I was on a road that was pretty narrow, with potholes, lots of pediastrians; I got to one pothole and dipped in and out of it but in the process splashed muddy water up onto pedestrians who were waiting for a taxi.  I saw in my mirror the disgusted look of one fellow and I was so mad at myself for not paying attention.  I looked in my rearview mirror and realized that there were two cars coming the other way which is why I had not avoided the pothole; i couldn't have avoided it without hitting an oncoming car.  So, ultimately, it was the quality of the road that led to my moment of ruining a few folks day, or at least their outfits.