I haven’t watched a traveler’s heart break tragically like the morning of July 17th at Lutoboka docking site as the ever so reliable MV Kalangala sounded the last honk, detached from the anchor, leaving a visibly hopeful lady at the jetty.
Left arm clutching her bosom, right hand steady on the brown tot bag, heels on the desperate run. Not even her lemon green peplum top and white jeans could invoke sympathy from the ferry staff who watched in silence having – just a split minute before – released the last ropes holding the vessel to the anchor.
Boobs flying around had ceased to be a concern of hers. The left arm was now waving at the departing ferry, her mouth wide open as she called out. But no ferry turns around to give a late comer a second chance, that much I know, or should I say have learnt, the hard way.
As I sat by the beach, Vitamin D soaking through my pores from a beautiful sunrise, I watched the lucky travelers catch the ferry by a whisker, boda boda men riding like it was a race of a lifetime and the defeated individuals whose feet couldn’t run fast enough to secure a seat on MV Kalangala.
Peplum top lady’s story isn’t extra-ordinary in any way, I bet there are others who missed the ferry probably an inch off and had to return home with a sick child, a missed appointment or perishable merchandise that needed to be on the mainland to stream in an income.
Her story, or should I call it a tragedy, reminded me so much of my own. I had missed the ferry on July 15th.
From Najjera with Hope
It was a last-minute decision to take a few days off and stay in Kalangala to rejuvenate, having weathered an internal storm that left my spirit down. Good company, islands and mesmerizing sunsets seem to always fix me, so I run to them once in a while, for solace.
A friend of mine with whom I had to travel (let’s call her J for privacy) gave me countless reminders about the ferry’s departure time – 2pm. I was more than confident that I wouldn’t miss the ferry. I was dead wrong.
By 11am I was done with breakfast and had a few chores to run through before jumping on a boda boda from Najjera to the CBD – Kampala, catching a taxi to Entebbe “and in no time, I should be in Nakiwogo, Kalangala will be mine in a couple of hours.” How hard I tripped!
Long story short, I started my journey from Najjera 10 minutes short of two hours. At 1:45 pm we were in Abaita Ababiri and my hope was dwindling by the minute. Would 14 minutes be enough to get to the ferry? My travel planning has never proved inaccurate!
My friend, who was at the jetty already, was blowing my phone off with angry phone calls. Even at 1:55pm, I still had a tinge of hope that I could make it. The audacity!
Then came the phone call
“Patience, where exactly are you? Should I get off the Ferry?” J asked, seemingly keeping a lid on the anger boiling inside her.
Before I could answer, she hit me with the “Anyways, it is leaving now, I am off and will be heading back home. You should return to Kampala too. There is no reason to proceed here.”
“Ouch!” That hurt, like a thousand paper cuts. My heart was already breaking over my poor planning and J had no business offering me band aids, she went right in and twisted the knife. And I can’t blame her, she had done the best to remind, caution me and beg me to be on time.
“Please don’t be angry, I am sorry,” is all I managed to say as my boda guy hit a pot hole that jerked me up on the bumpy road to Nakiwogo. I had insisted on not going back home, not before I could meet J, look into her eyes and tell her how sorry I was.
She agreed to a meet up.
No Plan B
For all it was worth, I made my way to the docking station first before proceeding to the dingy bar in the Nakiwogo slums where I had to meet my then angry, disappointed and loving friend.
I wanted to show her that I cared much about our plan, I initiated it after all. I made inquiries about a possible Plan B and all the security officer told me was a speed boat to Kalangala that would cost me a whopping Shs 600,000. Well, that alone was slightly above our budget for the entire three-day getaway.
“You have to be here at least 20 minutes before the departure time because you also need to be registered, get a ticket before you get on the boat,” the security officer tipped me.
I nodded in agreement, bowed out of his tent that appeared to have seen better days.
“The bar is about 5 feet from where you are. There are charcoal sacks right at the front. Find me here,” J sounded a bit less angry.
Dingy bars have a record of making the most of memorable times for drinkers. I hadn’t seen J in a while. It was that hug that combines a dose of anger and undeniable excitement seasoned with a pinch of love.
No further explanations were ever given apart from a shrill that escaped my lips, “I am sorry I messed this up.”
Onboard, at last!
Returning to Kampala was never going to be an option I would consent to. An overnight stay around Nkumba wouldn’t hurt either. Whatever it took, I wasn’t going to cancel this trip, let alone be late for the ferry, again.
By 11:30 am we were already sat at Nakiwogo Docking Station, waiting for her majesty the ferry – MV Kalangala – to arrive from the Islands so we can, finally, get ourselves on that floating bliss. Tickets cost Shs 10,000 for ordinary and Shs 14,000 for VIP seats.
As a first timer on MV Kalangala, I wanted the best taste of the sail – whatever that would be – and I very much expected that the VIP deck would be my ultimate access to that imagined fantasy. At 1:45 pm, I was well coiled on a sturdy plastic chair on the “VIP” Deck, the afternoon heat necessitating less clothing. P.S: I still have tan lines from 3 hours under direct sun rays.
Unlike the smaller boats where the sailors on the deck experience the wrath of the Nalubaale waters, this “VIP” thing had me gazing at the sun, the glistening waters, the receding horizon and whatever else there was with zero cares about turbulence.
3 hours and 45 minutes later, we docked at Lutoboka Docking Site, the promise of a mesmerizing sunset over the still waters in sight, the effects of one too many beers wearing off by the minute and a new sense of relaxation seeping through every bit of my being.
As regards the events of our 3-day stay in the Island District, it is safe to say that “what happens in Kalangala stays in Kalangala.”
MV Kalangala Schedule
I can’t stress enough why you should be at the boarding station at least an hour before departure. I trusted last-minute miracles, they didn’t happen. I took the brunt, you don’t have to!
