Shauna Mottiar recounts her experience in Uganda as a visiting Human Rights expert in this three part series. Her encounters with Verity, an outspoken researcher from a local NGO, and her remarkably disruptive hand bag and later Colonel Hugo, a retired English officer, mark the beginning of an exciting adventure.
Part three
My last day in Kampala was marked by a passing tropical like thunderstorm cooling the air and lending a beautiful, fresh smell. The hotel provided its guests with a shuttle service to the airport and there were about ten of us bound for Entebbe. The colonel included and I was pleased about this as I had not had much of a chance to chat with him over the last couple of days.
After checking out I walked beside a porter and having confirmed that my luggage was duly loaded, climbed into the bus along with some of the other hotel guests whose faces had become somewhat familiar to me over the last week. The colonel was standing behind the bus conversing with the porter and the driver over what constituted transportation safety regulations.
According to the colonel – all was not well. Apparently the driver had ordered the porter to remove the spare tyre from the rear of the bus in order to make more room for luggage. The Colonel was heavily contesting the decision and proceeded to lecture forth on scenarios should we incur a puncture on the way to the airport. The porter stared shamefaced down at his well polished shoes while the driver regarded the colonel with an exasperated glower and eventually conceded to house the spare tyre on the floor of the passenger seat.
Are you all passengers? The COLONEL blinked and replied, Of this bus or of the airplanes?
Contented with the state of negotiations, the Colonel climbed onto the bus with hearty salutations to everyone and proceeded to regale us with stories of his experiences in 'colonial' Africa. Just as we were about to approach the airport we were stopped by a security road block. Three armed soldiers circled the bus. One of them peered in through an open window and officiously enquired of the colonel,
"Are you all passengers?" The COLONEL blinked and replied, "Of this bus or of the airplanes?" The soldier was clearly stumped and stared vacuously at the colonel, who glared back and said,
"Well – speak man, what do they train the military to do these days? Ask stupid questions whose answers have absolutely no relevance to national security?" This was more than the poor soldier could bear; he scuttled back to the side of the road and stayed firmly put there until we had driven off. Suppressing respective grins, my fellow passengers and I disembarked from the bus and entered the airport building.
Our first port of call at Entebbe airport was a security check. Before we could enter the check in section we had to pass our luggage through an x-ray belt. The x-ray belt however was not working properly and every few seconds would stop and then begin running backwards before resuming running forwards again. For some strange reason the offending belt would run backwards at twice the speed that it ran forwards and so if your luggage moved forward a couple of centimeters it would race back and actually fall off the belt which meant that you had to retrieve it from off the floor and place it back onto the belt. The Colonel was clearly frustrated. After having retrieved his suitcase twice from off the floor, he demanded to speak to the supervisor. The supervisor appeared surprisingly promptly and enquired what the problem was.
"The problem my dear chap," said the colonel motioning towards the security belt, "is that your security measures are ineffective and inefficient. B. O. I say – B.O." The supervisor looked nervous,
"Yes," he conceded, "we are aware of the problem."
"And what are you doing about it?" enquired the Colonel.
"We –ll, we think we should call in a technician."
"Yes, I think you should. In the mean time you might as well switch that thing off – it's just a waste of time." The supervisor looked horrified,
"We have to search all luggage at this airport Sir." He explained, "We can't switch off the x-ray belt."
"Well then," complied the Colonel, "you need to find a way to make it run more efficiently." The supervisor looked pained,
"How?" he asked.
"May I suggest," said the Colonel leaning authoritatively on his cane, "that you turn the belt around."
"What?" asked the supervisor, beads of sweat beginning to gather on his forehead.
"Well, it moves backwards a lot faster than it moves forwards so take advantage of it." The disillusioned supervisor scratched his head and summoned two of the security guards to discuss the situation.
By this time my luggage had cleared the x-ray belt and I proceeded towards the check in counter with a backward glance at the poor supervisor and his subordinates who were still receiving instruction from the Colonel. It was only after obtaining my boarding pass and indulging in a spree at the duty free shop that the Colonel caught up with me. It seemed that he had rearranged security measures within the airport building to his satisfaction and was now ready to take his leave of Uganda.
We walked together towards our respective boarding gates, "Well young lady," said the colonel, "It was a delight meeting you – keep up the good work."
"Thank you," I replied, "have a good flight." I added not quite knowing what to say.
We shook hands and parted ways, the colonel to board his flight bound for London and I to board my flight bound for Johannesburg. Just as the Colonel was about to pass out of my sight and on sudden impulse I turned and shouted, "Colonel," he stopped and swung around in surprise at the sight of my walking towards him and said, "Yes my dear?"
"What does B.O. stand for?" I asked. He smiled and answered, "Badly Organised."
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