The Matatu of Opportunities

Impressions from public transportation.

There are many things I could tell you about public transportation in Africa. About the overcrowding and suffocation, about children piling up and coming to sit on my lap, about how they always seat the big mamas right next to the Mzungu (the white man) to the point of shortness of breath, or how the rooster sharing the matatu (African shared taxi) with me chooses to nest right between my legs. But I traveled on this public transportation all the way from Uganda to Cape Town at the edge of the continent, and I claim—there is no other way. I chose to tell you about a sequence of a few days, where it all started on one night bus in western Uganda.

(Local children on my lap. Public transport in Uganda. Photo: Gal Zanir).

I said goodbye to Israeli friends I had traveled with for several weeks. These goodbyes always repeat themselves on a big trip: you get attached to people, get used to them, and have fun, and then a few days later you are completely alone again—on your way to new experiences.

I boarded the night bus to Fort Portal, the main town in western Uganda. As usual on public transport, alone again, surrounded once more by locals who are very curious about my very existence and come sit next to me to talk. But this time, I was tired. After a three-hour drive and about half an hour away from arriving, another one of these big mamas sat next to me. There was an empty seat between us, but she squeezed right next to me and started talking—

-"Hello, I'm Betty"... "Yeah yeah, hi Betty."

-"What are you doing here?"... "I'm traveling, Betty."

- "Wow, and I am a famous radio presenter".... "Radio? Ah, nice!" pretending to doze off (I really was tired).

-"You know what? Tomorrow I'm broadcasting my morning show, maybe you'll come visit the studio?"

-"Interesting offer! Maybe I really will come! At what time?"... "7!"

- "7??" glancing at my watch, realizing that's four hours from now, and starting to gasp.

-"Yes. If you want, it's located in the main square, at the station of Tooro district."

About an hour and a half later (well, public transport in Africa, things get delayed a bit) and a few conversations later—we arrived at the final stop, Fort Portal. As I reached the entrance of the hostel where I was staying, I saw right across the street a big sign: "The voice of Tooro- radio station"—interesting, it's really close. Maybe I'll go. I decided to sleep on it...

Morning breaks and I wake up thoughtfully from the alarm clock—alright, let's go take a look and then continue with arrangements for the rest of the trip.

An Ugandan radio station is an interesting phenomenon, and indeed I didn't know what to expect. It was not the height of technology, but pictures of the country's current ruler were certainly there, and at the entrance to the broadcast room you had to take off your shoes—so as not to ruin the carpets, of course. I walked in and Betty said to me, "I knew you'd come! Good morning, we changed the whole topic of the show to 'Peace and War', it will be a show where you answer listeners' questions regarding the Holy Land—Israel!"

(Betty and the ruler of Uganda. Photo: Gal Zanir).

I found myself at seven in the morning, after very few hours of sleep, sitting and broadcasting on "Betty and Deko's Morning Show", answering listeners' questions regarding the Holy Land—Israel. When they asked in Rutooro (the local district language), Betty translated to English, and I replied.

If you're asking yourselves what kind of questions people could possibly ask on air regarding Israel, well, it was obvious to Ugandans: "Is there corruption in politics in the Holy Land?" "Are there cases of HIV in the Holy Land?" "How do you deal with the plague of prostitution in your country?" And of course the ultimate highlight—"Have you met Jesus?", and I had to answer everything seriously as the "representative of Israel." It was definitely not boring on this show. What's more, after the hour-long broadcast during which we also listened to African songs with a good beat, they took me to the station's recording room where they asked us to record a few jingles together, in English, in Rutooro, and... in Hebrew! That's how the radio station The voice of Tooro got a jingle they still play occasionally—"Soof shavuuua raguuua b'Voooooice … of Tooro" (A tranquil weekend at Voice of Tooro).

(Broadcasting barefoot. The Voice of Tooro. Photo: Gal Zanir)

A small taste of the broadcast

Stunned by the experience I had just had, I was escorted downstairs to the street by Betty. I told her I wanted to rent a local motorbike and ride to the crater lakes, a marvelous green rural area. Betty immediately said she would help me with that, and indeed, about ten minutes later we stopped a local boda-boda (motorbike taxi) driver and in a short conversation agreed that I would pay him a few shekels and take the motorbike for three full days!

I hugged Betty, who had become a good friend, and set out to load the motorbike.

Several locals who saw me struggling with tying the bags came over and helped me load. When they asked where I was from, I answered Israel. "Wow! You were on Betty and Deko's show this morning! Amazing!"

"What's amazing is that everyone here listens to the radio," I thought...

The conversation flowed until it ignited when we got to talking about Jesus, again. I started the engine and drove off.

................................................................................................................................

;Free and happy in the Ugandan wind, green banana plantations, brown dirt paths, villages and villagers.

The Crater Lakes, an area where several amazing lakes were formed inside extinct volcanic craters, was only about a 20-minute drive from the radio station in Fort Portal. After about 15 minutes of euphoria in the Ugandan landscape, a car came towards me, I out of habit stuck to the right and... boom-crash.

"Right, they drive on the other side in Uganda." I found myself under the car's bumper, the motorbike on top of me.

Signaling the driver to reverse—go back, the villagers helped me get up and dust myself off.

The hard part was convincing myself afterwards that I could get over it and continue riding the motorbike for another two and a half full days. The solution was, again—to start the engine and ride.

The days at the Crater Lakes were good days, whether thanks to Julius's hospitality at Enfuzi camp and at the orphanage he manages, the hikes between the lakes, the fresh passion fruit juice squeezed into plastic bags (like chocolate milk bags, only passion fruit juice in a chilled sandwich bag), or a banana pancake cooking course I arranged for myself with one of the local village women who cooked. Either way—I enjoyed myself!

(Ugandan euphoria. Photo: Gal Zanir).

(Village banana pancake and a refreshing bag of passion fruit. Photo: Gal Zanir).

After the three days, I returned safely to The voice of Tooro station to say goodbye to Deko and Betty. As I was leaving the station, David, the sound technician, caught me after seeing that I was carrying a ukulele.

"You play? What a small guitar. Wow."..."Yes, I play, it's a ukulele! Look—"

"Would you like to come with me? I'm just heading to rehearsal with my local band."

"Wow! Of course!" Opportunities like these fall from the sky in Uganda.

I arrived at Jubalani, a small community center with couches and musical instruments, just like a youth club back home. Waiting on the couches were gifted singers—the Jubalani band. Galasa, Chantel, David, J-Pizz, Dray (who has since made it to the finals of Ugandan The Voice) and others. Walking through the door into that room felt like entering a parallel world where the harmonies from the beginning of 'The Lion King' surround you from every corner. The harmonies in their singing were so beautiful, but guess what? They didn't know how to tune the musical instruments (some of which were even missing strings).

(Surrounded by harmonies. Jubalani. Photo: Gal Zanir).

After a few hours of rehearsal and a lot of fun jamming together, I made a suggestion that turned out to be dramatic for them—"Let's go outside, record us playing, and I'll upload it to the internet." The reactions were excited, and it turned out they had never documented their music in any way, certainly not on video or the internet. We went outside, taught one of the girls how to film using a smartphone, and played—

(The video)

As you can see, the excitement about the filming was so great that even people who didn't actually know how to play and weren't part of the band came along just to pretend they were playing. See the guy on the left with my ukulele, the guy next to him also pretending to play, and the guy in the pink shirt who is just standing there.

David suggested that I return to the city in a few days and go on a tour with them across the bars of Fort Portal, and so it was. I came back a few days later specifically for that, and straight from the bus we reached the first bar and played. Those were a few especially fun evenings, and Jubalani welcomed me into the band as one of their own.

(Saying goodbye after one of the last performances. Photo: Gal Zanir).

That's how a week and a bit packed with wild experiences came to an end.

Through broadcasting on Ugandan radio—riding a motorbike in villages—touring with a local band and tons of new friends.

I got on the nearest public transport once again and left Fort Portal. Once again children on my lap, once again suffocating and tiring overcrowding, once again a night bus, once again the curiosity of people around me. And then I realized—

This whole week, all those wonderful experiences, it all happened thanks to one small "yes" I said a week ago, right here on public transport. Tiring as it may be, public transport in Africa is the place to truly get to know the men and women of the country you're traveling in. "The Matatu of Opportunities", if you will. Learn to embrace opportunities, recognize them, and say

"yes".

My name is Gal, 24 years old, from central Israel. Over the past ten months I traveled across Africa, from Ethiopia in the north to Cape Town—the southernmost point of the continent. I passed through Ethiopia, Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, Zanzibar, Malawi, Zambia, Namibia, and a bit in South Africa.

During the trip I took part in an animal volunteering project, traveled both solo and in backpacker groups, and eventually worked for a few months as a scuba diving instructor in one of the recently popular destinations—the island of Zanzibar.

One of the founders of Mzungu—the African backpackers community in Israel!