Lauren and I boarded the cram-packed taxi from Kawuku to Kampala and found Henry at the Shell station next to the busy taxi park where the Toyota vans were sent off in every direction. Weaving our way among the many signs indicating the destination for each taxi, we found the right vehicle and boarded. Henry and I were in the way back where the knee space was narrowest. He and I are both the same height, tall. Three hours of super squish but some great company with Henry. Street vendors reached in through the windows to offer everything from drinks, food, and candy, to handkerchiefs and cell phone air time. Along the way the taxi pulled over to an area where the street vendors again descended. Roasted chicken on a stick, some other kind of meat cubed on a stick, drinks, fruits, everything…if you don’t mind not knowing how your food was handled.
In a stretch, the trail could have been considered a two-track, but…that would have been a real stretch. Unlike Karamoja, the land was rich and green. I couldn’t help but be thankful that it hadn’t rained that morning or we would have boda’ed through slime puddles all morning. As it was our boda tires balanced on a three-inch-wide track with deep muck on either side. One slip and we’d become mud people. Half an hour later we arrived to the sound of music.