the quality and luxury of our transport decreased dramatically from the beginning to the end of the trip. from our house, we hired a private car to entebbe. we flew from entebbe to nairobi to mombasa. even with delays, our trip from the house all the way to hotel room took less than half of the time it takes for the first leg of the equivalent bus journey. from mombasa back to nairobi we took the Modern Coast "first class" bus. it was air-conditioned. as if that isn't enough, you get a juice box and nuts. there are only a few people traveling on each journey, so you can own your own row and lay down completely.
the bus from nairobi to kisumu was a Kampala Coach. we sat on the bus waiting. i thought to myself "this is where the grenade went off." i generally don't put myself in any proximity to grenade attacks, so i was happy to take the daytime trip until we hit traffic after the tea estates. there are many steep escarpments and sandy cliffs along the way.
the bus from kisumu to jinja was supposed to arrive at 4:30pm. we rushed away from our lunch because we thought we'd be late, but we ended up sitting in front of the kampala coach office for six hours before the bus came. it was very crowded, luggage piled up in the aisles so the only way to pass was to step on the seats or, if they were occupied, to push with your arms and swing your legs as you vault your lower body forward to the spaces between boxes and bags. i sat in the back row. we were 6, then 7 bodies across. the drunkest ugandan in kenya argued cyclically with his lady-friend, a tall, sturdy woman wearing a long caramel-colored wig cut in the jennifer aniston face fringe frame style. he mumbled aggressively and she swatted at him with the paperback john grisham novel she carried. he accepted a few blows than stood up to his full 5' drunkiness and raised his hand as if to slap her. she screamed and our seat mates grumbled and laughed. this continued for the two-hour journey to the border.
i prayed he wouldn't make it across to uganda, but east africans (maybe africans in general) have a more sympathetic attitude toward drunkenness than westerners. at each checkpoint "Drunky" passed everyone in line queue, staggered his way up to the windows, shoved his passport through the window and mumbled something to the officer. each one laughed at him and helped him along. Drunky got on the bus while the police were still inside opening bags. they twice laughed and brought him outside. when it was time to get on the bus, Drunky was carried, pushed, and pulled up the stairs and down the treacherous aisle to his rearmost seat. he was carried by a seven foot tall sudanese man. a large woman pulled herself out of her window seat to lift and push Drunky. At 1 am in Busia, Uganda at the border-post with kenya on a bus that was 6 hours late, these Ugandans were having a blast mocking and tossing a short, drunk man.
thankfully, by the time he arrived at the backseat he was pretty well passed out and unconscious for the remainder of the trip.
