Red Chilli Ride
There was no one else in the world besides me, Sarah, and the cool breeze on my face as we rode through an empty city feeling the freedom of our young existence in a foreign country. Possibilities were endless, our love infinite, and the smiles on our faces miles long… or at least that’s the feeling I get when I remember it.
We were in Kampala, Uganda, with the other volunteers who lived with us at the Malayaka House, Fran and Marta. They had lived in Uganda before, and they always felt like me and Sarah were missing out a little. What the two of us love most is connecting with people, and both the Malayaka House and life in Entebbe provided us with plenty of opportunities for that. Deep connections were forming as we helped the kids with their academics, developed the older girls’ pizza and craft businesses, and ran errands around town. And we were happy about this. Marta and Fran valued these activities as well, but they also knew the importance of self care (especially when you’re living with 36 children). Part of their self care was going out and letting loose a little. After a couple months together, they convinced us to plan a night out in Kampala. We would stay at a backpackers for the weekend and explore the Kampala nightlife. Not number one on our Ugandan bucket list, but we agreed.
I have never been much of a drinker, so I was never super interested in finding clubs or bars during my travels. In my immature 23 year old mind, the purpose of drinking was to be drunk so that you had an excuse to be irresponsible, and none of that interested me. I have since matured, but Marta and Fran were trying to teach me that getting a drink with friends is just a way to spend time together, bond, and relax. And that is exactly what we did that night. We hopped from bar to bar, experiencing the young Ugandan city crowd, enjoying each other’s company, and spending some quality time on the dance floor. We had a great time, but around 1:00am Sarah and I were tired and ready for bed. We went outside and found a boda boda to take us back to Red Chille Backpackers.
We climbed on back of the boda with the driver (so I guess it was more than me, Sarah, and the cool breeze). Sarah and I were feeling pretty good from all the Nile Specials we drank earlier. For the first time in many trips through Kampala, there was no traffic on the roads. Actually there were no cars at all. For the first time during a ride in Kampala, I did not fear being rammed into the side of a car as the boda squeezed through a hole in traffic that was smaller than my American body (this happened often during daylight). This was also different from our boda rides at home in Entebbe because all the roads through the heart of the capital were paved and did not feature a maze of giant potholes, so it was the smoothest ride we had in months. As we sped around corners and down the middle of smooth streets, I held my arms out like I was flying. The wind hit me, I closed me eyes, and I allowed myself to focus only on that moment.
While enjoying the ride, we were leaning in and continuing a running joke that began the summer before with our college roommate Brian. We would make lists of each other’s favorite things, usually ranked in order of importance. I am not sure of the additions to the list that night, but what I do remember are the eruptions of laughter that each new addition brought. Like when I recalled how Brian always included online banking on Sarah’s list. Maybe the biggest laugh came when I listed the New Jersey Devils and Coke Icees before Sarah. The ride was probably 10 minutes at most, but it felt like forever. For those few moments, our whole world was on the back of that boda riding through the dark, just me and Sarah and the joy we bring each other.
