Kampala An experience
I booked a walking tour on Tripadvisor yesterday. Along with an experienced female guide. Faridausi, as well as Glyn, made an arrangement for an Uber to take her to town. The tour guide was 20 minutes behind, but that in Uganda, this is normal and is not worthy of an apology.
First stop: a monument that depicted Edward Mutesa, the first president of Uganda (after independence from the UK in 1962). Mutesa was also King, but was pushed from the presidency by Milton Obote, and forced into exile, assisted by Idi Amin. Later, Obote was sacked by Idi Amin, who gained acclaim by bringing back the body of Mutesa in order for him to be buried in Uganda.
Nearby was a statue that celebrated Uganda’s independence. It was also a place for the public with homeless people in the vicinity. A sign with a very old date showed photos from 1962. A huge hole had been made in it, which was where Idi Amin’s photograph was. Why hasn’t the sign been changed?
We spotted the WW1 or WW2 monument in front of the courthouse. Police vehicles were parked. I’m referring to police caRS, however, they looked like blue tanks from the look of. The green areas had huge Beganda trees, from which traditional Ugandan fabric made of bark is. It was not as large. data-
Faridausi led us down to the market for crafts, which was a tourist attraction, of course. Every seller in the market invited us to join them, and we were among only a few customers. Faridausi was clearly familiar with many of them, and she repeatedly told us that we didn’t have to buy anything of the items, but we’d already purchased souvenirs and gifts, which is why we weren’t curious.
Faridausi led us to the Hindu temple, which was warm; however, it was not all that fascinating. We also went to a massive indoor market of fabric packed with vibrantly colored fabric, ready-made garments as well as women who worked with sewing equipment. It is possible to have an outfit custom-made within one day. All the mannequins are white. Faridausi claims this is due to the fact that they are more affordable.
The first market we had, Nakawa, was the second largest market in Kampala. The stalls are filled with fruit, vegetables, clothing, electrical items, and other typical market items. The pathways through the stalls were not arranged in any kind of patterns or grids and were a sort of maze. There was little room for single-file travel, and navigating around other people was an absolute nightmare, as was always a steady flow of people rushing by.
The other stalls had rows and rows of smoky fish smoked. However, what was more disgusting was the carcasses of chickens as well as the entrails, guts and other entrails that were placed out. The worst part was those live birds beaten inside small cages, and piled over each other and desperate to get help and mercy. The scene seemed to continue and on.
On and on, I requested Faridausi’s help to be able to avoid this again, I had the picture. However, she was unable to comprehend the concept I was trying to convey and took us into a horrible hot hell.
There was a second market called Owino larger, with about 2000 stalls and covered with umbrellas, tarps, and even plastic. This was the biggest and most affordable market in Kampala, and Faridausi told us that the process of getting in was simple; however, the process of getting out was extremely difficult. God bless her for making us look at the most important things, and it was really awful. Men were constantly grabbing me and her to grab our attention. It was so tight, it was inevitable all those hands tugging at my waist and arms.
Glyn was standing behind me, and I later discovered that this did not happen to Glyn. Endless tight pathways through endless bars and shouting people. Continuous pushing to make it through: If you’ve ever been to a concert with a huge crowd and tried to make it to the front of the line, this is what it was like. The stalls were filled with second-hand clothes, fruit, vegetables, and spices, all waiting to be knocked over.