Photo by Joel Nsadha: instagram.com/joelnsadha A street preacher positions himself between the cars as they line up praying to God to let them move. He holds the bible in one hand and throws around the other like a judge’s mallet, preaching with great enthusiasm in Luganda. In the distance, a cloud hangs over Kamwokya looking about 9 months pregnant and ready to break water over the ghetto republic. The wind begins to pick up, banana leaves flutter and dust blows against sweaty skin where it sticks.
Bodas honk as they weave between matatus and cars toward the intersection, having learned that they can take up more space when making noise. They make their way to the front of the pack, by the electoral commission, with their noses pushed against the flow of traffic. Revving their engines with the anticipation of an elastic pulled back, they are ready to spring forward into free road. We all ignore the lights and wait for traffic police to decide when to redirect the flow.
The boda beside me has two chickens hanging upside down from each handlebar, presumably having the worst day ever. A tall boy pushes an old woman in her wheelchair along the zebra crossing, followed by two adult men holding hands (this is definitely not a gay thing).
Advertising claims the higher ground here, with a billboard high above promising “Mama washes cleaner than clean.” A Capitol Outdoor screen displays “Welcome to the Vodaphone world” through missing panels, followed by a video of multi-cultural students happily learning together at an international school.
Just as the first raindrop falls, long after the lights changed and changed again, the traffic police blow their whistles and bodas and cars start whizzing right past their toes the very moment they begin to suggest “go.”
Bodas honk as they weave between matatus and cars toward the intersection, having learned that they can take up more space when making noise. They make their way to the front of the pack, by the electoral commission, with their noses pushed against the flow of traffic. Revving their engines with the anticipation of an elastic pulled back, they are ready to spring forward into free road. We all ignore the lights and wait for traffic police to decide when to redirect the flow.
The boda beside me has two chickens hanging upside down from each handlebar, presumably having the worst day ever. A tall boy pushes an old woman in her wheelchair along the zebra crossing, followed by two adult men holding hands (this is definitely not a gay thing).
Advertising claims the higher ground here, with a billboard high above promising “Mama washes cleaner than clean.” A Capitol Outdoor screen displays “Welcome to the Vodaphone world” through missing panels, followed by a video of multi-cultural students happily learning together at an international school.
Just as the first raindrop falls, long after the lights changed and changed again, the traffic police blow their whistles and bodas and cars start whizzing right past their toes the very moment they begin to suggest “go.”
