KARO-KARUNGI (Beautiful Place)

The journey to go visit my Kaaka (grandmother) usually takes four hours from Kampala. The speed my dad drove this time, it took three. On the way there, I did the usual; look out the window and make sure I didn’t miss out on the drama on the roadside of the highway. To my surprise I didn’t see the usual, couples fighting physically and verbally, motor accidents, and what not. Instead, my eyes were fixed on bicycles carrying three bunches of matoke (plantain) and pick-ups carrying thousands, more than they can obviously handle. It’s hard to think of the fact that these people are not putting their safety first especially if this is the only option they have at making a living. Gonja being sold at the roadside had my mouth watery but knowing the father, there’s no way he’d ever stop to buy anything on the roadside. As soon as we were one hour away from my grandmothers’, even without visible road signs to alert me, I was mindful of the hilly landscapes that go on for miles and cattle that is grazing not far from the main road. Coming from an ethnic group of nomads known as Bahima, our land is easily distinguishable by the livestock and rich green pastures, also known as land of milk and honey.