Policemen Gone Crazy

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Enyanja Logar being extra naughty at KFC, Acacia Mall in Kampala; photo by Miha Logar
Enyanja Logar being extra naughty at KFC, Acacia Mall in Kampala; photo by Miha Logar

Suprise surprise, here I am again with my blog, the extremely fabulous, pretty, beautiful, clever and smart Enyaaaaaaaaaaaa! Today I am writing about something different, instead of my holidays on Lake Bunyonyi I am gonna report about my life in Kampala (and report some policemen too).

My dad has come to visit, after two long months. Finally. In the meantime he stole my idea and now he also has his own blogtotally unfair! I need to be unique! You know: the one and only!!!

I will tell you about my Sunday with him, and without my brother Maani who went for a sleepover. (Lucky me!)

Enya eating monstrous cotton candy at Acacia Mall in Kampala; photo by Miha Logar

Yesterday, after talking to a lady who wants to hike in the Gorilla Highlands with her father, Dad took me to Acacia Mall and we had a blast. This is a humongous shopping centre with almost everything, for example a cinema, a supermarket, a fashion boutique, a restaurant, a bookstore, a food court, … It has four floors connected by elevators (that make me dizzy) and moving stairs (that make me excited). It looks very organised and new, it is creamish, has water fountains and plastic trees. Although there are many malls and cinemas in Kampala, this is my most common place to go for movies because it has the nicest and newest ones.

But last evening we didn’t go to watch anything. We went to Acacia Mall for food.

We ate cotton candy; I had the biggest one of my life so far, and it looked like a mushroom (Yummy yummy!). I took forever to eat it while my dad had finished his and was sneaking bites out of mine. After I was done with it we walked around. At the Nakumatt Supermarket we bought a snack for me, for my Monday school break, which was lays (a kind of potato chips) and orange juice.

Miha and Enyanja Logar
Miha and Enyanja Logar

For dinner we went to KFC. I had a box meal and Daddy had a veggie burger. As we swallowed down our food I also ordered a Kit Kat krusher because I needed something sweet (and it was the newest one from the poster). Then I took a few photos. Once I was satisfied with my selfies (I am a selfie addict writing a blog) we left the mall.

And that is where the tale twists…

We approached three boda bodas (motorcycle taxis) before one accepted to take us.
We were setting off when a policeman in a khaki uniform shouted at our boda driver to stop. But he ignored his command! I asked my dad why we didn’t obey and he said he didn’t know.

The officer followed us on another boda. He overtook us and told us to stop because we were sharing the motorcycle.

My Dad said calmily but angrily: “You want me to put my daughter on a boda belonging to a person I do not know? Even worse, to do that by night?! It is better I have her with me so that I can protect her.”

“How are you going to protect her?” asked the policeman. (Stupid man.)

“More easily if she is with me than if she is on another motorcycle,” said my Daddy.

The policeman didn’t listen but told other boda bodas: “You take the girl back.”

My Dad did not accept that. He said: “We are going to walk back together. And I really do not appreciate your behaviour. I am going to make this hard for you. I do not like the way you are abusing your uniform to force me to bribe you.”

[Dad: Let me chip in here, for the benefit of our international audience. Even though sharing a boda boda with your kid is probably against the law, it is common practice in Uganda. No parent would do what the policeman was saying. If he was so genuinely interested in safety, he would have asked about our helmets. He was into something else entirely…]

We walked to his station as the policeman took a boda. The driver of that boda came back and told us to go home because the policeman was “fake”—but Dad didn’t listen (Daaaaad?!). I asked him why we were going back to the station (I was tired and close to puking.). He told me that because the policeman had been harassing us. 

When we reached the point where we initially took the boda, just outside of Acacia Mall, Dad entered a small tin box painted dark blue with the word “Police” in white. He wanted to argue with the police chief, a shorter man with a short beard in blue fatigues and a blue cap.

But the chief was on the policeman’s side! He also claimed that the driver we had used was drunk (But he really wasn’t!). “Can I say something?” I raised my hand. “I don’t want to be kidnapped because the girl I read about on Facebook was taken away from her school like …” The chief cut me off before I could finish my sentence. (How rude!)

Finally they said we could go home. Dad again complained that he didn’t like the way they treated foreigners. “We treat everybody the same and fairly” said the chief. (Not true!)

As we walked away, we saw our boda driver parked and I wondered why he wasn’t charged. (Pathetic! They were just after us! Meanies!!!)

To avoid any further complications we went home by car. It was almost 10pm and I was really sleepy. The policemen had ruined my schedule. (What the heck!)

When we reached our new home at Nsambya Dad turned to me: “Always fight for your rights! Don’t ever let anybody intimidate you.” 

(My Dad rulezzzzzzz… Time for bed.)

text: Enya Kanyunyuzi Logar