By David Tumusiime, Uganda: Issa tried to get everyone into their taxi. In the beginning, he would shout at Issa, trying to get him to see some pedestrians would always be just that: pedestrians. A taxi was not for them. But Issa would not listen. Issa would insist, “Taata, we're the last Democrats left in this land. Abantu bakoowu. Our […]
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By David Tumusiime, Uganda: I would not have believed it if I had not seen it with my own eyes: the robbery, that is. It happened so fast had I not been watching the car; I would have missed it entirely. I love BMW's and the car was a silver BMW X3, new like it was fresh from a showroom. […]
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By David Tumusiime, Uganda: Everyone calls him Mulalu. No one knows where he came from. No one can chase him from the stage. No one would dare. To chase him would mean to confront him. No one wants to do that. The taxi drivers try from time to time. But most of their conductors will not bother to jump out […]
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By David Tumusiime, Uganda: He left her life the way he entered it: in a taxi. Somehow this was a fault with her. “Can't you at least pretend to own a car by hiring one once in a while?” she had often asked. Leaving, he realised he should have started to worry when she stopped asking. There was a lot […]
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By David Tumusiime, Uganda: We stumbled out of the taxi like gas chamber escapees: faces screwed up, on tottery legs. Blinking into the bright sunlight like stunned night clubbers. No one able to immediately walk away from the taxi with goose stepping purpose. Secretly surveying each other before we dispersed. One last time. Our nostrils clearing up. Everybody was taking […]
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