SATIRE: Why Ugandans love taxi conversations

Ugandan taxis – they’re not just rides; they’re mobile stages for every debate, revelation, and gossip session under the sun. You might be on your way to work or headed home from the market, but step into a Kampala taxi, and you’ll find yourself drawn into the most electrifying exchanges of the day.

And sometimes, when your stop finally arrives, you’re still glued to your seat, not quite ready to miss out on what happens next. Here’s why.

As the taxi sputters out of Wandegeya, passengers are blessed by a self-proclaimed “Love Doctor” seated by the window. He’s older, with a weathered face and an arsenal of “advice” that makes him the expert.

Today’s wisdom? “If your wife isn’t cooking your posho, she’s cooking someone else’s!” The men nod in solemn agreement while women groan, clearly unimpressed.

The doctor expounds on how “a woman should know her place” and how “kale, love is dying in Uganda because of those small phones and WhatsApp.” All eyes are locked on him, including yours. There’s a hush as he begins to narrate his cousin’s story, which sounds suspiciously like something pulled from last night’s radio soap opera.

Passengers exchange knowing glances but stay mum. Who doesn’t want to know whether the cousin stayed with his “wandering” wife? The stop at Kalerwe Market is a tempting escape, but no one dares move until the story wraps up.

Down the road, near Nakulabye, we pick up the Political Preacher. You can spot him by his dramatic flair. He’s quick to call out the government on everything, from potholes to unemployment, and he uses phrases like “this regime” as if he’s running a secret campaign.

“Do you know how much they’re taxing us? We are slaves!” he exclaims, waving his hand emphatically as if lecturing Parliament itself.

A woman in the back mutters, “Ate, as if he’s paying taxes,” sparking muffled laughter. But he’s not fazed. “Do you know the government plans to tax chicken next?” he declares, eyes wild with conspiracy. Now that gets everyone murmuring in disbelief, even though it’s likely cooked up from thin air.

The journey has already gone from Kansanga to Kisenyi, and people are fascinated. The rumor mill is on full spin, and passengers share dubious “news” about upcoming policies that would make even the most creative fiction writers proud. By the time you remember to get off at Makerere, it’s already too late.

“Uganda is poor because Ugandans are poor!” declares a young man in a suit that’s seen better days. It’s an opening line that grabs attention as we barrel down the bumpy road past kanyanya. Everyone sits up. Where’s this lecture headed?

He’s just finished a “WhatsApp crash course” in investment, and he’s brimming with confidence about everything from Bitcoin to farming chickens in one’s backyard. “Why buy land? Just buy chickens – much cheaper, same returns!” he exclaims, with a wink that suggests he’s cracked some kind of financial code.

The next moment, a middle-aged woman quips, “You think chickens will save you when the landlord comes knocking?” But Mr. Financial Advisor brushes her off, insisting that anyone not investing in poultry is missing out on Uganda’s “next big economic boom.”

As your stop arrives, you hesitate. The sheer audacity of his plan, even if you’re sure it won’t work, has hooked you. Maybe it’s worth missing a meeting for this chicken-investment theory.

Then there’s the Ancestral Healer, seated by the door. This character, usually a bit of an elder, has cures for everything – marriage troubles, business issues, that nagging sore throat. “Come to me,” he says in a low, mysterious voice, “and all your problems will vanish.”

His fellow passengers listen intently as he describes concoctions made from plants and “sacred stones.” Today’s topic is how to cure financial woes by placing a black feather under your pillow. Skeptics raise their eyebrows, but he’s undeterred.

Just as you’re about to tune out, he mentions that he can also see the future. Eyes widen. “But only for those who give me something small,” he adds with a sly smile. He accepts a few coins, pockets jingling as he claims he foresees Uganda’s economy booming “soon.”

People sigh, half-relieved and half-skeptical, while you reluctantly step out at Wandegeya, wondering if you just passed up a chance to know your fate.

Finally, there’s the Family Boss. These are the dramatic narrators of family sagas involving “evil” in-laws, distant relatives, and domestic drama so scandalous it feels like you’ve stumbled into a high-stakes soap opera.

Today’s installment? A passenger laments how his “stingy uncle” refused to contribute to their family’s burial expenses, leading to a heated feud. “The man’s richer than a boda-boda fleet but won’t give even 1,000 shillings!” he exclaims. By the time he reaches his next stop, everyone’s either scorned the uncle or concluded that families are doomed to drama forever.

And yet, as much as you’ve laughed and side-eyed these characters, something keeps you wanting to hear more. Whether it’s the absurdity, the unexpected wisdom, or just the sheer entertainment, Ugandan taxi conversations have mastered the art of keeping passengers hooked.

So next time you see someone missing their stop, don’t be surprised. They might just be savoring the best drama in town, one that’s completely free with the fare.