The MATRIX. . .Reloaded. . .

We’ve all used the perilous Bodaboda because of many reasons, mostly because we are in a rush but well. . .here’s my story!

I hate going out, but because social causes and having a social life is an essential, and sometimes the animal instinct is at an all time high, I decided to go out on Saturday.

I had nothing in mind but just the thirst for a beer. A cold sweaty beer. It had been a while since I had taken one and well, I felt it need no justification given that I had gotten paid on a little job I had just accomplished. Pay days get people really really excited. Pay days get me excited because in this world of self employment, it’s hard getting clients who are not going to cheat you because you have no company backing. Enough about that.

I don’t remember much of that night except that I left home at around midnight. My target was to go to Legends, meet a couple of friends and chill there for a while. Taxis at this time are MIA or hoarding a bunch of thugs. So I decided to get a Boda from the town centre and head towards Legends.

My boda ride to Legends was safe, long and I had a chat with the guy about employment. Some of these guys are not as uneducated as we make them out to be. I remember telling him that government is where the money is and his retort was that the government cannot employ an S.6 dropout let alone has failed to put avenues where such guys can get jobs or resources. He continues to tell me how it’s a struggle, with a family, that needs him at home this late at night but he’s the bread winner so he can’t let himself slack. I was proud that someone like him understood the struggles. He even suggested that he and I sit and start up a small transport business but I had to alight. I was a man on a mission to drink. I just hoped that one day he could realise his dreams as I one day fully want to achieve my goal.

LEGENDS WAS BORING! Well, my friends had not arrived, and some had intentions of coming hours later so, a beer and I was out of there.

I headed to the JUNCTION there after.

The junction is this bar somewhere in Kiwatule as you head to Najera. In that locus.

This boda ride was uneventful.

Junction was empty until later on when I was joined by Bernard a.k.a Beewol a.k.a Habbakuk a.k.a I’ll stop here now.

I did a couple of beers. Not enough to get me where I wanted to be but at least close enough to get me home with a smile. I jumped on a boda boda and thoroughly bargained because from the Junction to where I was going would be quite a stipend. I jumped on a the ride and we headed out. My night had been uneventful. Every time I get on a bodaboda, I just get that tingle. The survival mode kicks in. I’ve seen enough boda ride accidents to know I NEVER want to be in one.

As we climbed towards the Ntinda – Kisasi – Nakawa junction, I didn’t know my fate was about to remind me why I HATE and continuously encourage people to avoid taking this little things. There was no car traffic which was a good thing. As we ascended and reached the junction and started taking the Kamwokya route, another boda boda swerved into our path. My boda guy tried to avoid it but it was too late so he hit the brakes as we collided. SMASH!

The survival instinct kicked in. All I can remember was my feet touching the ground, am off the bike, walking in the air for a minute and standing on the paving in the middle of the road. I was in the Matrix. I had slowed down time. I did a light jog as alighted from the accident, unscathed and safe. I laughed heartedly mostly at my ninja skills and instinct.

I turned to see whether there was a wreckage and there was NO ONE! Not my boda, and not the guys we has smashed into. There were two teens on the boda ride that had swerved into our way but and those two had disappeared. I looked ahead and saw my boda guy disappear into a corner. He hadn’t stopped or anything, nor had the guys who’d caused the accident. I was bemused but still slightly shaken up. I tweeted about it in my shear stupidity. To tell the world of my small misfortune that night.

Two things crossed my mind though!

1. Why did my boda guy run away if he clearly was in the right?
2. What is it about a bodaboda that makes these guys suicidal?

Unluckily, there was no other means that evening so I sat on another boda boda complaining at how reckless some of his colleagues were. . .

I am way to tired to proof read this.




2 thoughts on “The MATRIX. . .Reloaded. . .

  1. Bodaboda rides are a real death trap. Those riders are always in the wrong; so much that on the one occasion when they are actually in the right, they instinctively disappear, thinking they are in the wrong as usual. Half the the time, they are drunk and the other half they are high. If I can avoid a bodaboda ride, I avoid it. In other news, I told you to stay in the bar with us, you felt a ninja. Now see

    1. Hahaha! I could have or rather should have stayed longer but alas! Another time I guess. But thankful am alright. Sad that that’s the only option at that time of the night so!

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