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| Wandera is making a killing taking tourists around Kampala |
Story By, George Wabweyo - newvision
I hope you do not mind my photographer riding with us, for I
need some professional photos,” I tell Michael Obwana, a boda boda
cyclist, who has been sent by a Walter Wandera to pick me up.
Wandera is the genius behind Walter’s Boda Boda Tours, a rather
eccentric tourism service that has not only become a favourite among
visitors to Uganda, but is also getting lots of international
attention. Boda bodas, of course, are those little passenger-carrying
motorcycles that populate Ugandan roads.
Surprisingly, Wandera’s messenger will not ride my photographer and I
on the same bike. “We do not approve of carrying two people on a boda
boda, for safety is paramount with us. I have to call Walter to arrange
for another rider,” Obwana says, placing the call to Boss Walter, 25. A
few minutes and another rider pulls up. “I am Amon from Walter’s Boda
Boda Tours and I am here to serve you.”
See, the story of Walter had recently gained social media buzz and I
was keen on seeing if he was really worth the hype. Blogs by European
tourists claimed that Walter was the best person to show you Kampala.
“But why would anyone pay for a tour of Kampala?
Heading to Lubiri
For the likes of me, I walk the sidewalks
everyday, have visited friends in various suburbs and Kampala has not
exactly been a national park. Just how much touristic action can one
squeeze out of a city like Kampala?” I mused, for it seemed unsettling
to tour my own city.
But out of journalistic curiosity, I just took the damn boda boda tour —
with mixed feelings. Because even though we love boda bodas for
weaving in and out of heavy traffic, we also hate them for all the
traffic crimes and lawlessness the riders have when it comes to traffic laws.
These Walter boda bodas though, both the riders and bikes, seemed cut
from a different cloth. The bikes were sleek, and clean – same as the
riders, who even had cool smartphones. “Please wear your helmet,” Amon
said as he handed me a grey helmet with a Walter’s Boda Boda Tours
sticker.
As the motorcycle roared to life, Amon
asked me what nationality I am. See, I am Ugandan, but to get a real
kick out of the tour, I needed to approach it from a foreigner’s point
of view. As we approached Kololo Airstrip, I became Kenyan.
“You are free to ask about anything on your way,” he said. I did not
think there was anything about the Kololo Airstrip I could learn from a
boda boda rider, but I was positively surprised by the amount of
information he could pack into a briefing about the airstrip. On the
way, Obwana, the other rider with the photographer, suggested that he
and Amon switch passengers, for he had seen me taking notes, and Amon
was not yet fully equipped with all the information.
Capturing a moment
We chatted all the way up, on the dusty
Mawanda Road in Kamwokya, through the slum-flanked Kyebando until we
arrived at the peaceful gates of the Bahai Temple in Kikaya village. I
had not heard of Kikaya before. But that was not the only thing I would
learn about the Bahai Temple the moment Solomon Busobozi, another
rider joined us with a Finnish tourist probably in his early 20s aboard
his boda. Solomon was full of accounts the history books would never
bother to tell you.
For starters, I did not know that the Bahai Temple had dormitories
anyone in need of quietude and peace can go and use – at no fee.
Neither did I know that this is the only Bahai faith temple in Africa.
We toured the temple and even had a walk through their cemetery, whose
tombs, I must say, look beautiful, with all sorts of shapes, including
the map of Africa.
From the Bahai Temple, we were speeding moderately on the Northern
Bypass enroute to Gaddafi Mosque in Old Kampala. We accessed Gaddafi
Road via Sir Apollo Kaggwa Road and Makerere Hill.
At the second largest mosque in Africa, a
pleasant surprise was all the trivia you do not find floating mosque by
the late Col. Muammar Gaddafi , the fallen Libyan leader also
dedicated himself to helping out the Uganda Muslim Supreme Council with
the upkeep of the site,” Ashraf Zziwa, a tourist handler at the
mosque, says.
Now that there was a “new arrangement,” as Zziwa prefers to call the
situation in Libya, the mosque has had to look elsewhere to facilitate
its upkeep. One way has been by levying some fees on those who get
married, and tourists, who pay sh10,000 per head – locals, however, do
not pay as a way of promoting local tourism.
At the mosque, we were joined by two other riders from Walter’s
company, who came bearing a friendly Dutch couple.We all marvelled at
this architectural accomplishment.
The climax though, had to be when we
scaled over 300 steps up the minaret. From that point, the wide expanse
and tapestry made by the roofs of the downtown Kampala buildings, the
rushing citizenry, the cars, the roads and the greenery, formed an
amazing kaleidoscope.
Our ‘history book’ Solomon took us round the tower and told us the
story of the origins of Kampala, with wowing anecdotes on Ganda
culture. The Dutch tourists kept on referring to a map which they had
laid out before them. It was simply spell-binding to be at a spot that
harnesses such a 360-degree spectacle of Kampala.
From the mosque, we were now rushing towards the Kabaka’s lake. There
was a brief pause in front of the Buganda parliament before we headed
down towards the lake. Just before the lake, we had a brief stopover at
a joint where we sampled mwenge bigere, a local brew made from
bananas.
Tiny Tax, the Dutch lady, loved it, and actually questioned me when I took a sip of it. “Are you drinking on the job or that is
strictly for journalistic purposes?” she asked. We all laughed to that.
The brew was uniquely sweet and favoured.
After marvelling at the man-made Kabaka’s lake, we were at the gates of
the Lubiri royal palace. We headed straight for deceased Ugandan
dictator Idi Amin’s torture chambers, which were down a path,
sandwiched by cassava gardens and sweet potato patches.
Solomon introduces tourists to mwenge bigere (local brew) in Lubiri
Idi Amin trivia and banter ruled the brief
walk. Idi Amin had a torture chamber here? Why didn’t I ever know of
that? Well, it turned out to be a go-down like structure, eerie and
intimidating, perhaps because of its bloody history.
On one of the walls, scribbled in mud
(thank God not in blood), were hate words, and a legible: “I will never
forget, my husband was killed (here) (by) people of Obote.” There were
several other indelible etchings on the wall. Emma Kavuma, the guide,
explained how the chambers worked, and spoke of atrocities committed
here in the past by different regimes. Getting out of here was such a
relief, as could be seen off everyone’s countenance.
Meanwhile, Solomon, who had been missing from the group, resurfaced
outside at a mini-museum with a photohistory of Buganda royals. In tow
with him were rolex, a sought-after quick-fix snack of eggs rolled in
chapatti – the foreigners loved these as we sat there imbibing just how
much we had seen and got told of how much more we could see around
Kampala alone. “What a nice way to see Kampala! You smell it, hear it
and see it. We get our money’s worth. They pick us up from anywhere and
drop us where we want when the tour is done. It is perfect,” says
Corne Van Aert, Tiny Tax’s companion.
Unfortunately, the day’s tour ended here – all at sh90,000 for a
foreigner and between sh60,000 and sh70,000 for a local, based on the
tourist’s preferences. And yes, Kampala is my hometown. But I felt like
an unwitting visitor when listening to the guides. Suddenly, I have
this desire to probe the history of every edifice I come across. Now
that I know a good bit about my city, I can now hit the national parks.
