STORY TIME: MY FIRST TIME IN KAMPALA

A little Munyankole girl takes on the city to pursue her big dreams!

Luganda was not the overall hindrance to winding up my tedious first day in the city, it was a whole bunch of mishaps here and there, including tagging carefully on my back pack each time we moved, lest I lose my trivial treasures in there.

On a Tuesday in early February 2013, daddy took a quick check in my navy blue rectangular suitcase, making sure I had all the requirements packed,...just like he did since my Primary One, when I joined the boarding school section. He always did our back to school shopping and even this time around, when I was joining Crane Media for a course in journalism, he did just the same.
Swift Safaris was his bus of choice from Mbarara to Kampala. While I staggered in the bus corridor after a rude lady squeezed her way past me, daddy yanked me off to the seat after neatly loading our mini luggage bags up on that luggage sort of palette.

Handing me a monitor newspaper, he pulled out I guess New Vision or something that was a day old. "It's going to be a long journey, you need something to keep you busy," he said.
We had little conversation breaks while I opted to read a small novel- The Stormbreaker which I had started on a day before. I didn't have interest in The Daily Monitor, at all.

After four long hours, I didn't need an interpreter to notify me that we had reached Kampala, I could feel it, the noise, the chaos, an avalanche of vehicles getting past each other in a careless manner, tall buildings and people speaking Luganda ever so quickly that I figured I would never learn from them.

The bus conductor started yapping a lot, this time in Luganda not Runyankole, as we sloped to Kisenyi bus park. A slight drizzle ushered us in, not a good way to move about the heavily congested city.
"We are in Kisenyi park, we now have to head to Wandegeya and catch up with a bit of paperwork," my day's tour guide said as we descended the two long steps of the bus. Being a Maryhill High School chap, I had an umbrella folded up in my side bag. It was helpful as we waited on our hired taxi.

Fun fact: We were not allowed to run on compound at school so whether it rained or shone, we had to be 'ladies', act ladylike and ladies don not run. Umbrellas were vital during one's stay at Maryhill, haha.

After clearing with the bursar's office, we walked from the DTB building (where the campus was then) to the mighty Chicken Tonight (It was still operational then) for a late lunch which served as dinner for me. We moved back, and we were assigned some girl to help us with the hostel stuff.
As usual, daddy had to take me to where I would live from then on. The hostel was in Makerere Kavule, a few minutes away from Kolping Hotel. I was to share a room with three other people, including Rachel who had escorted us there.

After we made my bed, daddy gave me some more ka money and hugged me good bye as he slopped down the stairs. "I will come back to check on you on Friday," he promised.

My feelings were strange seeing him leave. I was, at last, going to explore the city, but I was also ALONE! In a minute, the girls introduced themselves, Phiona, Rachel and Sofie...before they headed out for 'Kalerwe', a good chance for me to unpack and settle in. "All these girls look bigger, more experienced, more lively, more everything!" I thought to myself.

My evening passed in a daze, getting to know who I would go to school with, what i would do with my fuckin life and many other stuff.

The next days, weeks, months saw me adapt to many changes, beach parties, dating, going broke, learning funny Luganda words like 'aganyogoga' and a lot other things that I don't regret.

Daddy visited more often, we always hung out at Chicken Tonight and he always asked me to eat more yoghurt so I could add a bit of weight.