Kampala's Hum & the Static in My Ears
okay, so i’m currently fueled by questionable instant coffee and the lingering scent of…well, everything. Kampala is a lot. a lot. i think i’ve officially entered a state of permanent sensory overload, and honestly? i’m kinda here for it.
my brain feels like a badly tuned radio, picking up snippets of conversations, the blare of boda-bodas, and this constant, low hum that i swear is the city breathing. i arrived with these numbers swirling around in my head - 233312 and 1800806239 - don’t ask, it’s a long story involving a misread text and a very insistent fortune teller. it felt like a code, a starting point. and Kampala…it feels like a code you’re never quite going to crack.
right now, it’s…sticky. that’s the best way to describe it. i just checked and it’s 21.09 degrees, but the humidity is at 87%, so it feels like you’re walking through warm soup. the air pressure is 1009, which honestly doesn’t tell me much except maybe that i should have brought more breathable clothes. i’m staying in a little guesthouse near *Makerere University, and the owner, Mama Agnes, is an absolute legend. she makes the strongest chai i’ve ever tasted and has a network of information that rivals the internet.
speaking of information, someone told me that the Kasubi Tombs are incredible, but you absolutely need to go with a guide. apparently, there are…let’s just say “spirited” residents who don’t appreciate wandering tourists. i also overheard a group of backpackers at a local cafe (check out TripAdvisor reviews for recommendations) saying that the food stalls near the Gaddafi National Mosque are amazing, but you need a strong stomach. i’m cautiously optimistic.
my neighbors are mostly students, and if you get bored, Entebbe is just a short matatu ride away. i’ve been trying to sketch the Owino Market, but it’s…chaotic. a beautiful, overwhelming chaos. i’m an illustrator, and usually, i thrive on detail, but this place is on another level. it’s like trying to capture a swarm of bees with a pencil.
“Don’t trust anyone who offers you a ‘special price’ on anything. It’s always a scam.”
that’s what a guy at the craft market* told me, after i nearly bought a “genuine antique” that looked suspiciously like it was made yesterday. he was drinking something that smelled vaguely of gasoline and wisdom. i’m taking his advice to heart.
i’ve been trying to find a decent record store, but no luck so far. i’m a touring session drummer, and i need my fix of vinyl. i did find a guy selling old cassettes, though, which is…something. i’m also attempting to learn a few phrases in Luganda, but my pronunciation is atrocious. Mama Agnes just laughs and corrects me, which is nice.
“The traffic is a living entity. It has a mind of its own.”
that’s what the boda-boda driver told me this morning, as we narrowly avoided a collision with a truck carrying chickens. he wasn’t wrong. the traffic here is…an experience. i’ve been relying heavily on Yelp to find places that aren’t completely overrun with tourists, and it’s been surprisingly helpful. i also stumbled upon this local forum which has some really useful tips.
“Don’t eat the yellow mangoes. Trust me.”
that was a very emphatic warning from a woman selling fruit on the street. i’m not sure why, but i’m definitely avoiding the yellow mangoes.
honestly, Kampala is exhausting and exhilarating and confusing and beautiful. it’s a place that gets under your skin and stays there. i have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but i’m ready for it. even if it involves more sticky humidity and questionable instant coffee.
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