Deadly rides in Kampala

By Gilbert Kidimu

A threatening cloud passed over Mulago Hospital, darkening the Orthopaedic Trauma Ward, which was jammed with wheelchair-bound and crutch-supported patients. Their slumped postures suggested they had been waiting for a while. A young man, unable to find a seat but too tired to stand, leaned against the wall for support.

The crowd had spilled out of the reception area into the corridor, a mass of injured people and their family members. There was hardly any room to move. Nurses walked with caution as one wrong turn could hurt an already fractured limb.

Towards the end of the queue, Ida Nabbanja, the superintendent of the ward, was frantically addressing two young men.

“I said the ward is full. We cannot take in any more patients.”

Mark Mafabi, the man she was sending away, was balanced on two crutches and had a visibly swollen left leg. His caretaker made several heartfelt pleas but he could not budge Nabbanja.

“We are expecting 10 fresh patients,” she continued. “We haven’t yet found where to put them. Please come back in two weeks after some patients have been discharged.”

She sighed deeply as the two men finally relented and found their way out.

Suddenly, the dark cloud gave way to a heavy rainstorm.

“If it wasn’t for bodaboda [motorcyclists] accidents, we would have enough room in this ward,” said Nabbanja. “Sixty per cent of all patients admitted with fractures are of bodaboda-related accidents. I don’t know why they are still allowed to operate in Kampala.”

And because they come in as emergencies and often require extensive treatment, they crowd out people like Mafabi whose injuries are not as urgent.

In her office, Nabbanja pulled out a list of discharged patients. Their injuries: Knocked off a bodaboda by a speeding vehicle; Fell off a boda; Crashed into a water channel. Nearly all of them had the same denominator – a bodaboda.

Bodabodas are without doubt one of the most popular means of transport in Kampala, thanks to their ability to beat the worst of traffic jams. An estimated 800,000 bodaboda trips are taken in Kampala each day. Nevertheless the same motorcycle taxis are the reason the Orthopaedic Trauma Ward in Mulago is overflowed with traffic accident victims.
 

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Police records show that in 2013 there were 8,073 motorcycle accidents in Kampala while in 2014 there were 7,450. In 2014 – the most recent year where statistics are available – 3,124 people died on the spot as a result of bodaboda accidents, while 12,754 were seriously injured.

Mathias Okwir, the assistant superintendent of police in Kampala, argues that motorcycle accidents are more fatal than those involving cars because the vehicle provides some protection. Bodabodas don’t.

“Some of the injured are left without a limb, permanent memory loss as a result of head injury, a stroke, spinal injuries,” said Dr. Alex Bangirana, who heads the Casualty Department at Mulago Hospital. “Fifty per cent of victims with head injuries die.”

Back inside the Mulago Orthopaedic Ward . . .
 

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. . . the smell of antiseptics permeated the dimly lit room. Arms swathed in white dressing, raised legs kept in place by external fixators and bandaged heads clung to headboards. The begging expression in the patients’ eyes on seeing a nurse was like a starved child’s pant for a spoonful of food.

Tenywa Ivan (pictured above being attended to by a nurse) faced the ceiling. His left leg protruded through the blue bed sheets. He managed a smile when he saw the nurse. His wife, Barbara Namusubu, sat by his side looking sad, tired and despondent.

Four weeks ago, Tenywa, a bodaboda rider, ferried clients from Kireka, east of Kampala to the city centre. Although he usually rode back to Kireka alone after dropping a client in town, this time he found a client heading in the same direction. As always, he used the shortcut through Kinawataka instead of Jinja road – one of Kampala’s busiest highways.

While taking a sharp turn, he saw a Fuso truck speeding towards them. The gigantic truck had taken up much of the space on the narrow road. His first instinct was to veer into the trench, but it was too late. In an instant, the truck hit them, shoving both Tenywa and his passenger into the same trench. That is the last Tenywa remembers of the fateful event.

When he regained consciousness, he was in Mulago’s Accident and Emergency Unit.

He had a broken left tibia and multiple bruises. During surgery, holes were drilled into the uninjured bone around the fracture and special bolts were screwed into the holes to secure his leg. On the outside of his leg, a curved piece of metal with a special ball-and-socket joint was connected to the bolt to make a rigid support and hold his injured leg in place.

The surgical treatment will provide temporary stability until his bone is healthy enough for the final surgery. The last surgery will involve attaching metal plates to hold bones in the proper position while the long-term healing takes place.

Tenywa was thankful for being alive and willing to make a promise to his wife: “I will never ride a bodaboda again.” Except, as the sole breadwinner, Tenywa was not sure now how he would provide for his family. Although a father of one (a girl in primary school), he also takes care of three of his late brother’s children, all in secondary school.

But after 15 years of burying his colleagues, witnessing accidents and, now, narrowly surviving his own, Tenywa is convinced he will never mount a bodaboda again.
 

Meanwhile, the bills at home are piling up. “I have rent to pay, the school term has started and two of the children are in Senior Four and Six,” he said with a breaking voice.

“But for now I’ll focus on getting better. I will become a special hire taxi driver or something else,” he sighed, “but never more a bodaboda cyclist.”

His statement was reiterated as the nurse started dressing his wound. The otherwise courageous Tenywa cried in pain for the ensuing five minutes as the nurse cleaned him, applied medication and replaced old bandages. He still has a few more weeks of this agony.

But despite Tenywa’s vow and thousands of accidents recorded every year, bodabodas remain popular among Kampala city dwellers who must deal with the city’s frustrating daily traffic.

Ivan Musinguzi fell off a bodaboda in October 2013. He sustained injuries serious enough to keep him out of work for two months. However, he still uses the same means to get to work.

“Of course I take more precautions now. I use only motorcyclists I feel I can trust and instruct them to ride carefully,” he said. “But avoiding them completely is not very practical.”

Okwir supports that it’s obvious why bodabodas remain popular no matter the number of accidents: They are an efficient means of transport during peak hours when the roads are heavily jammed with traffic.


A smart way to stay safe on a bodaboda
 

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Instead of advocating for their removal, SafeBoda, a new social enterprise in Uganda is trying to improve the safety of bodaboda services.

Their bodaboda riders have to pass through safe riding courses and they are required to carry a second helmet for their passengers. The company also partners with Uganda Red Cross for First Aid training.

"Bodas are the main thing getting people from A to B," says Alastair Sussock, the organisation’s co-founder. “We're trying to professionalise this transportation in the city."

The business was formed last year not to only improve safety, but also streamline the boda system. There is a smartphone application that allows SafeBoda clients to locate and request bodaboda service wherever they are.

SafeBoda currently has a 50-rider fleet covering four areas in the north and centre of the city.

"If we train people and make them good and responsible drivers, we're going to save lives," said Ricky Rapa Thomson, who manages the riders.

 


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