its early–maybe 6:30 a.m.
i haven’t had breakfast.
or more importantly, coffee.
nevertheless, i’m wide awake, having just taken a boda all the way across kampala city to get to this bus and find a decent seat. these boda adventures are quite the wake up call…
i buy a soda (caffeinated, mind you) from one of the young boys who wander the aisles of each bus in the park, clinking the bottle openers against the glass, hoping – i assume- that a pavlovian response from passengers will compel us to purchase 250ml of their wares…putting them that much closer to…what? school fees? new shoes? food for their families?
the soda is quickly finished and the bottle returned to the young man–it is then i begin to contemplate my growing hunger…
i turn down chapati, samosas… no one seems to be selling fruit this morning.
then, she appears. a woman bearing brown paper bags.
she is wearing a blue apron for the outdoor restaurant just outside the bus park– she shuffles up the aisle of the bus in ill-fitting shoes, quietly calling out the contents of her brown paper bags, music to my ears–to my stomach!
inside the brown paper bag is a cavera (plastic bag) full of chips (french fries [freedom fries? no.]) little bits of roasted goat and a tiny little cavera full of tomato top up (gelatinous ketchup of east-africa).
the salty and greasy goodness was exactly what i needed to sustain me through the long bus ride to mbale and on to soroti. the salty and greasy goodness was also washed down with a second 250 ml of coke-a-cola. (it was cold. i couldn’t resist.)
who needs “fast food” when you can have “chipsy….muchomo…” brought to you in your bus seat by a lovely woman who calls you sister… who indeed.