Our Raid On Entebbe

View Larger Map
Adams and I land in Entebbe at 7:50am, 10 minutes earlier than planned.

We step out onto the tarmac into the cool morning breeze. The air smells sweet, natural, and clean, and there is a large body of water to our left: the airport is built on a peninsular outgrowth that pushes into Lake Victoria, a massive body of water.

We walk a few hundred meters into the customs area, a shack with some desks and a conveyor belt. After waiting on a short line, we hand over our passports to a customs agent, who solicits the Visa fee of $30.

I ask him if he'd like to see my yellow fever certification and he laughs. "You care more about your health than we do," which is a pretty good point, on reflection.

After being aggressively pursued by a taxi driver while we exchanged money (1690 UHS to $1), we cut a deal for a $25 taxi ride to Kampala (it is an hour's ride, including traffic).

We stare out the taxi's windows on the road to Kampala as we acclimate to Africa, noticing:

lots of people standing around, doing nothing.

countless motorcycles, ferrying passengers.

impromptu agriculture, people farming in their backyards, with serious intent.

frequent burning. Small contained fires, lots of smoke.

billboards and painted shops advertising the same five companies (cellular or paint companies).

trash. All around. Some of the burnings are of trash.

I get a glimpse of a roadside painting of Bill Clinton, displayed prominently. As we approach the city, we see what looks like a giant mosque, which our driver (Ronald) tells us was finished by Colonel Quaddafi, though started by Idi Amin.

I joke that Ronald is named like Reagan, but either he doesn't get the reference, or he's a democrat. Probably the latter.