a routine trip gone awry

Yesterday afternoon two friends and I decided to head into Kampala and see what was happening in Uganda's capital city. As we're just entering the rainy season, our trip was postponed by a sudden downpour. (The sky here opens up in the blink of an eye...sunny...sunny...monsoon.) Plus, rain usually means power outages so we sat, in the dark with anxious eyes pointed skyward, willing the rain to let up.At the first hint of cessation we rushed out and hopped in the mutatu for our $1.50 ride into the city. The drive usually takes about an hour, one of the primary landmarks we pass is the Mandela National Stadium, and it is always mentioned that each one of us is hankering to go to a soccer game at the venue! (While soccer is huge here, affection and attention lies primarily with the Premier League. Uganda's own national team falling a distant second.) Low and behold, as we passed the stadium, there was a big pre-game bonanza going on; we immediately ditched our Kampala plans and jumped out of the car, ecstatic over our luck and good timing!Uganda and Burundi were playing in the African Nations Cup. ( I don't know if this is indeed the name of the tournament, no one was able to give me a straight answer.) Obviously we bought Uganda t shirts and, as those suckers slid on over our greasy muzungu hair, immediately looked like natives. Some Ugandan fans bought the three of us whistles and I'm pretty sure with that, we catapulted to the best fans in the stadium. (Read: a far from full stadium.) Turns out I am fairly phenomenally talented when it comes to whistle music, like maybe Carnegie Hall good. I'll have to see how my skills meter out once I get back stateside. Stay tuned.Uganda beat perennial soccer powerhouse, Burundi, 5-0. Go Cranes! After the game we were allowed onto the field with the players and a few other fans! It was pretty awesome, regardless of the fact that people were taking more pictures of the three white girls on the field than the soccer players. We took dozens of fairly asinine pictures of us int he players box, etc. We really felt fortunate for having stumbled across such a cool event!n Below are a couple of pics from the field, post game.

We wandered back out of the stadium and over to the main road to find a taxi home. It wasn't particularly congested and I was a bit taken aback when a man ran into me quite forcefully and then SNAP the strap of my friend's bag broke as he yanked it and ran across the street and down into a shanty town. About a dozen men took off after him as is common in this country; there are many instances of someone being beaten to death after theft. We were guaranteed the bag and contents would be retrieved, the use of the word "definitely returned" was a tip-off. After a couple of minutes the three of us were told to walk down in the shanty town "where it was safe". Immediately we were descended upon by about 30 screaming villagers who were holding the crushed bag and demanding a reward. I'd become the group spokesperson and I wasn't about to let these people scream at us so I took the bag, told them we could talk about it up by the stadium and proceeded to walk back up the hill, the mob on our heels. Pissed. They were pissed.
Once we reached the street it was evident to all three of us that the thief and the "heroes" were in cahoots with one another. Little kids were screaming at us to not give them money because they were lying. The problem with all of these simple realizations is that they had to come when we had what was now, probably 50 people, screaming in our faces. I started to negotiate with them, they wanted more money than was even in my friend's bag. The crowd refused to budge and a couple of men with some integrity emerged from the group and tried to get us onto bodas to take us out of the situation but the mob wouldn't allow it. About ten minutes passed before the fully riot geared police came out from the stadium and escorted us back into the stadium. As we went back through the gate there were people screaming that we were unethical and indecent. Whatever. Drunks. I am sure that nine times out of ten their little ploy works very well and scared foreigners fork over money for the bravery of the locals...but get real! The main question is, of course, why they didn't just keep the money that was in the bag initially. Oh, well - it was a crazy experience!! We ended up getting a mutatu on the other side of the stadium and making it home without further incident.

I'm back to Golomolo in the morning and then some friends and I are going east, nearly to Kenya, to Sipi Falls for the long Easter weekend. Hopefully I will be able to post again before then but only time will tell.

All my love,
Frannie