African Road Trip – Takeoff

“I think this bus is going to Mbale in Kenya”, Carla said with concern, looking around the bus.
“Why?” Absalom asked, awakening fully from his doze.
“Coz guys are getting off!”
Absalom looked around, and indeed the bus had largely emptied during their journey.

A short while later, the bus came to a final stop and the young couple got off.
A few inquiries confirmed their fears. They were in Mbale, Kenya and not Mbale Uganda. It was maybe 4:30 a.m.

“Hufanyika mara mingi sana,” a watchman told them helpfully.
“The bus company should inform passengers that this bus is going to Mbale in Kenya!” Carla said.

The watchman and his crony advised the couple to travel back to Kisumu and then take another bus to Uganda.
After a short wait at the roadside with their luggage – massive backpacks and smaller luggage – a Kisumu-bound matatu came. After brief consultations, the couple changed its collective mind and decided to move on towards the border. They waved the matatu on.

Carla and Absalom crossed the road, waited a while and took a vehicle to Kakamega, then another to Bungoma, then another to Malaba. Somewhere in between, they stopped for breakfast at a local food joint. Some of the items on the menu sounded better than they looked. There was something that looked like a yellow scone that had been dipped in oil then left to dry a bit. The tea was ok though.

By the time the adventurous pair reached Malaba, the business day was fully in progress and people were working, except some of the staff at Equity bank, who could not work because their network connection to their central system was down. So customers wishing to withdraw money were advised to queue at one counter, get their current balance established, then queue at a second counter for the actual withdrawal. Absalom tended to be a bit impatient with queues, but he needed the money, so he endured.

When they were done with the banking, Carla got onto a motorbike, since she distrusted bicycles, and Absalom got onto a bicycle, since it was cheaper. They sped off towards the Kenya-Uganda border. Or more accurately, the motorbike sped off while the bicycle just went.

The cyclist gave Absalom the impression that the border proceedings were going to be bothersome and that bribes would be extracted. It turned out to be quite straight-forward. Basically hand in your documents, the guy on the other side apparently takes a photo of you with some high-tech looking camera, stamps your passport and you go. Similar procedure at the other side.

The duo changed currency at the border. This – changing currency – was something they would get to do over and over the next few weeks.

Carla and Absalom were safely deposited in Uganda. They asked where they could get a vehicle to Mbale and were shown. They paid the bikers and went to the vehicle. They were now in a foreign land. Strangers. No chaperone. And looking very touristy with their backpacks and their urban-looking attire in a rural town.

They got into the vehicle and waited for it to fill up. It looked like it would be along wait. since the town did not look very busy, but the wait turned out to be shorter than feared.
Passengers got in one by one, and eventually the vehicle set off, with the couple’s huge backpacks tied to the top of the vehicle.

It felt a bit strange, not being able to quite follow the conversations being carried out in the vehicle in the local language. Absalom imagined that it must feel much worse to be caught in a war situation in a foreign land, where you fear for your life but your ability to gather information that may be vital for safety or survival is limited.