Kampala at 7

As the sun sets, dusk draws nearer.

People of different status,

Moving back and forth

The sluggish ones, the quick on the feet too.

They fidget to cross at any chance they get

A male driver lets the ladies pass,

A female driver lets the men cross.

How ironic!

Children all over the place,

Some still in their school uniforms

Vending merchandise on the streets.

Women’s desperate eyes

Begging you to buy from them.

Idlers wander around,

Hustlers rub shoulders trying to get here and there.

Cars hooting rudely,

With taxi drivers cursing.

Police sirens rumble, as convoys pass by in awe.

Vehicles queued all the way down the road,

The owners enviously eyeing the motor bike owners.

As they try to go through the only narrow space left in between cars

Side mirrors colliding, glasses crack!

They boil with rage.

Courtesy Photo

Boda bodas assembled at the road intersect,

Impatiently waiting.

Only for the lights to turn green a decade later

The commotion after wards,

Hold tight or fall off.

Constant butt bumps on humps

And potholes everywhere

Like someone dug them out in the night

Nevertheless

The upper Kampala driveway

Exquisite views, Cool weather.

Street lights do give a bright ray through the windshield.

Quiet serene environment

Posh Car engine sounds driving past

Giving you the ultimate city feel.

This is an extract from my old blogging site taking us back to my initial years of discovering that I loved writing. I have edited it to suit the taste buds of my 2022 audience.

Tap the ❤️ if you enjoyed it.