Bodabodas, the roving tigers
Sep 18, 2011
BODA BODAS. Those little noisy, gassy rides of motorbikes that whisk us through quick errands. We hate them; their riders even more. We also love them, probably because we cannot do without them.
By Stephen Ssenkaaba
BODA BODAS. Those little noisy, gassy rides of motorbikes that whisk us through quick errands. We hate them; their riders even more. We also love them, probably because we cannot do without them. This country is very slow; the taxis just get you nowhere, but the bodaboda does. In a minute or less.
But that is all we care about. Once we are off one, we switch off. We could not care less if the bodaboda man got knocked on his way back. We do not care if his ride got confiscated or if he died of depression.
Why should we? We will find another. They are so many around town. Truth is, bodaboda is one of the most endangered professional species in Uganda today. It ranks favourably among the most stressing jobs in the land.
Ungodly hours
Ronald Kigenyi leaves his one-room house at 6:00am. He walks a few kilometres to the trading centre in Mutungo, where he keeps his bike and heads for the nearby stage. He works through a very uncertain day.
“I sit for hours before getting a customer,†he says.
The waiting is usually done in the open, exposed stage or under a tree shade; under the distressing torment of unpredictable weather. Leaving the stage means losing a customer, braving the treacherous weather is the only option, until one luckily finds a passenger.
“Luck sometimes comes in short supply, especially when faced with a difficult passenger,†says Henry Magwali, who works at a stage in Industrial Area.
“I took this guy to Kiyembe. On arrival, he jumped off the bike and asked me to wait for him. I waited 30 minutes and when he returned, he asked me to give him sh10,000 to sort out a small problem. I gave him all I had — sh9,000. He disappeared into a building.â€
Magwali waited for two hours.
“When I asked, they told me he had gone through a hallway leading to a road on the other side of the building.â€
The passenger, who should have given money to the bodaboda man, instead took money from him. Mwagali rode away a sad man.
A death trap
After a hard day, boda boda riders retire in the night — anywhere between 9:00pm and beyond. Their meager incomes force some of them to stay on and work well into the night.
Operating on the insecure city streets and suburbs, these unsuspecting cyclists have become a target of robbers, who hire them, lead them into dark places, kill them and make off with their bikes and money. Those who survive get away with thorough beatings.
Such is the threat to their lives that some riders have suspended night operations.
“Unfortunately, the Police do not help much. They ignore us when we report,†says Mawanda.
Little wonder, many riders do not trust the Police and traffic officers. “They add to our stress,†says Frugensio Bizimungu at Obligato stage.
Unfortunately, the reparations for these men are never thought about.
David Tumuhaise, the Uganda Insurers Association’s technical manager, says few motorcyclists are insured comprehensively. They do not care much about it.
BODA BODAS. Those little noisy, gassy rides of motorbikes that whisk us through quick errands. We hate them; their riders even more. We also love them, probably because we cannot do without them. This country is very slow; the taxis just get you nowhere, but the bodaboda does. In a minute or less.
But that is all we care about. Once we are off one, we switch off. We could not care less if the bodaboda man got knocked on his way back. We do not care if his ride got confiscated or if he died of depression.
Why should we? We will find another. They are so many around town. Truth is, bodaboda is one of the most endangered professional species in Uganda today. It ranks favourably among the most stressing jobs in the land.
Ungodly hours
Ronald Kigenyi leaves his one-room house at 6:00am. He walks a few kilometres to the trading centre in Mutungo, where he keeps his bike and heads for the nearby stage. He works through a very uncertain day.
“I sit for hours before getting a customer,†he says.
The waiting is usually done in the open, exposed stage or under a tree shade; under the distressing torment of unpredictable weather. Leaving the stage means losing a customer, braving the treacherous weather is the only option, until one luckily finds a passenger.
“Luck sometimes comes in short supply, especially when faced with a difficult passenger,†says Henry Magwali, who works at a stage in Industrial Area.
“I took this guy to Kiyembe. On arrival, he jumped off the bike and asked me to wait for him. I waited 30 minutes and when he returned, he asked me to give him sh10,000 to sort out a small problem. I gave him all I had — sh9,000. He disappeared into a building.â€
Magwali waited for two hours.
“When I asked, they told me he had gone through a hallway leading to a road on the other side of the building.â€
The passenger, who should have given money to the bodaboda man, instead took money from him. Mwagali rode away a sad man.
A death trap
After a hard day, boda boda riders retire in the night — anywhere between 9:00pm and beyond. Their meager incomes force some of them to stay on and work well into the night.
Operating on the insecure city streets and suburbs, these unsuspecting cyclists have become a target of robbers, who hire them, lead them into dark places, kill them and make off with their bikes and money. Those who survive get away with thorough beatings.
Such is the threat to their lives that some riders have suspended night operations.
“Unfortunately, the Police do not help much. They ignore us when we report,†says Mawanda.
Little wonder, many riders do not trust the Police and traffic officers. “They add to our stress,†says Frugensio Bizimungu at Obligato stage.
Unfortunately, the reparations for these men are never thought about.
David Tumuhaise, the Uganda Insurers Association’s technical manager, says few motorcyclists are insured comprehensively. They do not care much about it.