The adventures of Tata

Some years ago, I went on this school geography trip to Western Uganda on a bus. This is that story.

The assignment to a vehicle for everyone else was in alphabetical order, but I tried to beat the system so I could ride with two friends of mine, and what do you know; I got stuck with the small loud shuttle, that was somehow supposed to get us to our destination some eight hours away.

The bus(Tata) had a small television at the front, and the driver had a DVD with a fine selection of early Spice Diana, Bobi Wine, and Cindy that would restart every time the engine was shut off. We weren’t allowed phones on the trip, so we really got into whatever would be on. (The songs played in my dreams for weeks)

The music was also a good distraction from whatever would be going on with the engine.

Even as Tata loudly crawled up the winding roads of the Rwenzori mountain ranges (you could look death in the eye if you stared out the window), we were singing along to Sheebah.

Eventually though, our luck run out. I can’t remember if it was the hot springs or the stalactites we’d crossed a ‘Gods must be crazy’ type scene to go see, but on the way back, a tyre gave out.

We had an extra tyre. The flat one was replaced, and the good vibes continued.

Not even a hundred metres later, it gave out again.

The sun had set, we were surrounded by darkness, with no sign of civilisation for miles.

Panicked is an understatement for the mood that filled the bus.

The two young-ish teachers who’d been flirting the whole trip were suddenly making frantic phone calls, with all this new found distance between them; some of us were making farewell calls back home; Pallaso was still playing but we weren’t singing along. (Many would go on to curse the music. ‘Guys! God is punishing us. Turn it off!’)

After what fell like hours, which of course consisted of conversation on the rebel activity happening on the western border of Uganda, and how it could have been them that set us up and burst our tyres, and how they were known to parade their victims naked, one of the other buses came back to get us and drive us to our hotel.

At the height of the panic, however, outside our windows, the moon hang right over the Rwenzori peaks such that the very top of the mountain seamed to glow. It was all really pretty. In that moment we saw for ourselves why it’s called the Mountains of the Moon, so the geography trip was a success really. 🤷🏾‍♀️