Recently, the madness of driving in Kampala was the subject of a LinkedIn post that went viral for all the hilarious reasons.
It was posted by a foreigner (mzungu) from the US, who has been driving in Kampala for three months. His fearless sense of humour and good grace made light of the terror he experiences on our roads, making it easier for us to look in the mirror and laugh at our own madness. It is one of those posts you hope not to bump into while playing with your phone during a meeting because you will burst out laughing, guaranteed.
As a new driver on these wild streets, our complex driving culture does not make much sense to him. But it does to us. There is method in the madness. We shall now allay his concerns and answer his questions, blow by blow.
1. Driving in Kampala is a full sensory experience
The mzungu says: ‘If you can listen to music while driving, you deserve a national award. The only sound in our vehicle is my wife’s exasperated gasp as I narrowly avoid turning another boda boda driver into modern art.’
Our take: Your sense of humour, sir, is enviable. You deserve your flowers for that little image you painted there. About the wildebeest called boda bodas, we also do not know what happened to them. We believe they are all under the spell of a reckless, juvenile principality in heavenly places. We are speechless with you. We are in awe with you. Every so often, we have to park on the side of the road just to take a moment to fear bodas. If God himself were not hovering over Kampala protecting them, they would all turn into modern art (ahem).
2. Pulling into oncoming traffic is a rite of passage
The mzungu says: ‘In Texas, it is reckless endangerment. In Kampala, it is how you prove your faith in humanity. If you cannot trust that the oncoming driver will slow down, you are never getting onto Ggaba Road.’
Our take: Pulling into traffic, particularly during rush hour, is war. The mentality here is ‘eat or be eaten’. You always know the oncoming driver will not let you go first, but what he does not know is that you are no coward. You will not let them go first either. You must assert yourself and enter the road, no matter how bitterly he protests. The key is to do it firmly but safely, hesitation can leave you stuck for ages. And while at it, you have to be on the lookout for a boda boda appearing out of the blue.
According to a Kampala traffic officer, this aggressive merging is not just bravado; it is statistically where most minor collisions occur, which explains why defensive driving skills are a survival necessity.
3. Being pulled over in Kampala is a pre-emptive measure
The mzungu says: ‘In the US, officers usually stop you after you have done something wrong. Here, they pull you over first, then decide what you have probably done. Pro tip: confidently mention your ‘high-level government connections.’ Odds are your bluff will not be called.’
Our take: Traffic stops here can feel a little unpredictable to outsiders. Officers often carry out random checks to ensure compliance with road safety standards. When you are stopped, it is best to stay calm, courteous, and cooperative; sometimes it is just about keeping the day moving smoothly.
4. Car horns are polite language tools
The mzungu says: ‘In the US, horns translate roughly to ‘What are you doing?’ In Kampala, they mean: ‘Dear boda boda rider, I am approaching on your right, kindly do not die.”
Our take: For the record, you do not know how much hooting goes on in Kampala until you have gone to another country and returned. We are a hooting nation. We hoot when the person in front of us at the traffic lights delays for more than two milliseconds after the light has turned green. We hoot when the two-storey Sino Truck is inching too close and, of course, we hoot to say ‘What are you doing?’ Heck, we even shout expletives and hoot with both hands if someone has got on our nerves too much.
However, when it comes to hooting at boda bodas, it is often out of self-preservation. We are simply trying to avoid confrontation-because tensions between boda boda riders and car drivers can flare up fast.
5. Ugandan patience is unmatched
The mzungu says: ‘In the US, time is money. Here, time is optional. Ugandans do not take themselves too seriously, and thankfully, they extend that grace to mzungus like me, who probably should not be behind the wheel in any country.’
Our take: Ugandans may have many flaws but one thing we get right is that we treat foreigners with patience, grace, and kindness. Having said that, being on time is a futile move in Uganda.
Arriving on time will almost always mean that you sit and wait for the rest to arrive. So why bother? We let the mzungu go first because being on time means a lot to them. It means nothing to us, except, of course, if we are a government official with lead cars. In that case, we will do whatever it takes to keep time, even if it means driving down the wrong lane.
6. Flashing headlights: A mystery solved
The mzungu says: ‘Sometimes, oncoming drivers flash their headlights at me. Are they: A) welcoming me to Uganda? B) Warning me about the police up the road? C) trying to communicate the meaning of life through Morse code? I am leaving this mystery to my East African friends: What does it actually mean?’
Our take: Assuming that your car is not tinted and that oncoming drivers can see beyond the glare on your windscreen, flashing headlights is most probably an act of greeting. Because in our culture, you have to be nice to the visitor no matter what. It was beaten into us from childhood.
In fact, we secretly compete to be the nicest to the visitor, and flashing headlights at you on the road is the least we can do under the circumstances. But it might also imply that they recognise that you have the same cool car as theirs, or they are giving you first priority to enter or exit the road. And yes, the meaning of life is to be nice to the visitor.
Driving in Kampala may feel like chaos to outsiders, but there is rhythm in the madness. Danger, humour, patience, and an unmistakable Ugandan spirit all coexist on these streets.
So, to our mzungu friends, welcome to the madness. We got you.