Namuwongo's Flying Toilets

It was not only the long weekend, but also paradise weekend for the hoodlums, pickpockets and rapists.

That Friday was a public holiday – something to do with a number of people who were burnt alive by an irate former King of Buganda. I am not sure why he felt the need to roast them, but for what he did, people trek from as far away as Rwanda and Kenya. It’s an annual pilgrim simply because they want to see the site where the burning took place. That is sick and really, how morbid can the people who go there get?

With total confusion at Numugongo, it was bliss for Hoodlum, Pickpocket and Rapist. They live for this day when they take advantage of the innocent. Even better for them, the following day at Namboole Stadium was the match – Cranes vs. Guinea Bissau and wrapping it up, on Sunday at Nakivubo Stadium was CBS’ Ekitoobero. To say Hoodlum, Pickpocket and Rapist had a blast of a weekend would be an understatement. So how do I fit into all this I hear you cry?

Well the Thursday night was launch night for the new Tusker Larger bottle. More embarrassingly for me, I learned about the launch on the day itself. With no invitation card, I fired off a salvo of e-mails to the people who matter at UBL. Sedated with apologises, I was assured my card is on the way. It lands an hour later and with that, there was a need to take the rest of the day off. I go home for a long nap. I reckon that by the time I get to Silver Springs hotel at 7:00pm and ready to do some responsible drinking, I will be fresh.

A good day starts to turn sour the moment I hit Namuwongo. There is a mother-of-all-mothers-of a traffic jam that, nobody is going anywhere soon. As I sit idle in the jam, the minutes meanwhile tick away. I left home at 5:30pm and all off a sudden, its 7:15pm and ouch, I am still stuck in the jam!

Then there is some movement though frustratingly slow but at the Namuwongo railway junction, it is gridlock and my car also decides that it has had enough and simply will not start once the traffic starts moving again.

I am not worried for just in front of me, there are two cars that have also broken down. Assessing my problem, it appears that it has something to do with the battery – it’s gone flat. The owner of the car nearest to me has jump leads and he offers to help. However, when he gets his car going, he simply drives off. Should I have reported him to the police for breach of contract?

The railway crossing in Namuwongo is not the best place to break down at night. One, it is so dark, the stench of sewage is unbearable and three, you have to contend with ‘flying toilets’. The driver of the other car is willing to help but does not really want to because, it means dismantling his battery from its bed and he does not want to do that. As some form of condolence, he says, “things are tight” and off he drives into the night.

Some say he is weird. Others say he is not from this planet. While there is a mystery behind what to call him – some call him Mzee, Papi, MOD, or the Horseman. Those who really know him, they call him Anus and he is fortunate that Anus, is pronounced Arnu. However many insist on pronouncing it as Anus. I have placed an SOS call to him and now all I can do is to sit back and wait.

I am back at the car when three young teen girls walk past. As they do, they hurl black plastic bags into an open manhole but they miss. One of them says, “We have missed” but her friend simply tugs her along and I really do not give that much thought to what they were trying to discard.

As I wait for Anus to show, I sit in the car, then get out and walk, then lean by a billboard then walk back to the car and as I do, I am stepping on something soft. I also feel it move and can hear the rustle of a plastic bag.

Back at the car, I sit and wait and as I do, the sewage smell is somewhat stronger. In fact, it is so strong that the smell appears to be emanating from the car. My phone has a torch and when I flick it on, the light hits my shoes and I see the problem. In the dark, it appears that I have trodden onto the flying toilets that Teenage Girls were discarding and split the bag open. Now I have all its contents smeared on the under soles of my shoes. This is the last thing I need! I do my best to wipe the s**t off in the wet grass.

Anus has turned up in his BMW. However when he pops open his hood, we can’t find the battery. The Germans are trying to confuse us. They hid the battery in the boot and not put it in the engine compartment, as is the norm on all other cars. It confirms my suspicions. Germans may not be ‘wired’ properly.

We eventually get my car going and by the time we get to Silver Springs, the party is still kicking. However, for some strange reason, everybody who is standing close to me has their nose up in the air and sniffing away. I too sniff the air and its unpleasant. It’s a pupu smell and though I know very well where it is coming from, I am not going down as the culprit. I look round for somebody to blame.