Biking

A housemate from Holland (of course) found a place that rents bikes and we took a bike ride. The business sent someone with us apparently to make sure we wouldn’t steal the bikes (though there were 4 of us and one of him). Riding the dirt roads around Mbarara felt completely different than driving in a car. The day was gorgeous and the scenery spectacular. There was the predictable flat tire- these bikes and tires have been fixed and patched many times- but it turned out there was a man who repaired bikes 10 feet away. Bikes are used for transportation and to carry heavy things- multiple huge matoke bunches, chairs, other bikes. People don’t bike for pleasure here so a string of mostly muzungo bikers was enough to bring villagers out and empty classrooms of children who ran to the road to shout, “Muzungo, how are you?’ to which I answered a minimum of 100 times, “I’m fine, how are you?” We rode through small villages and down obscure dirt tracks through matoke plantations. The downside was that at about the half-way point, the ride became a bit of a struggle for me. I’m not sure what contributed most- the 30 extra years I had on anyone else, simply being out of shape, the substantial hills, the upper 80 degree weather, or the washboard dirt roads. But I made it and my bike-mates kindly waited for me at intervals (and my Ugandan house-mate likened our situation to ‘no child left behind’- humiliating but funny).