A Friday in Kampala

It’s a Friday in Kampala. We are two months into the year already but I feel like I have just gotten into the rhythm of 2026. The elections are over, the internet is working well again, I started a new (small but paid) video job and I recently got a new visa. This visa cost me a lot of money, not just because of the visa itself but also because of all the paperwork needed for it. With the income I had the last months, I wouldn't be able to afford another visa like this and although I don't feel too stressed about that yet (the visa is valid for six months in total), the last two months flew by. At times, it all seems to go too fast, the world seems to be too complicated and I feel like giving in to the exhaustion that's come with both dealing with the monsters from my past life as well as raising a child and creating a new life in the last years. But I also feel like I am finally getting a grip on my life. I took a leap of faith by getting this visa but my choice to come to Uganda was a leap of faith too - and I am actually figuring things out. I feel happy and still wouldn't want to be anywhere else than in Kampala.

I lost track of the amount of bodas and other people I gave money here and there on top of the money I spent on the visa itself already. An extra visit to the Uganda Revenue Authority, an extra 30,000 shillings for a paper from Kampala's City Council Authority and and extra call with the Uganda Registration Services Bureau. I am proud of myself to have gotten a visa for foreign people working in Uganda and to have paid for it with my own business, which is now officially registered here as well (after 9,5 years in the Netherlands), but I still wonder every day what I am doing exactly and whether it is realistic, good, smart and all those things. I try telling myself that the experience of almost 15 years in and out of Uganda and almost 4 years of combining business and single parenting in Kampala must give me enough expertise to be more certain of myself. It remains impossible to be sure of work in international development and the creative industry, especially in Uganda, so I just need to deal with the certainty of uncertainty while certainly growing wiser, getting better at my work and growing a bigger network every day. I am a creator and will keep creating stories, no matter what.

Besides that, I didn't really have a choice. To continue with my work in Uganda, it was time I started doing this officially. A humble but firm belief had grown on me gradually, that I was actually able to do this. Something which still seemed impossible a few years ago, but which I had had in the back of my mind. I had had enough time to study Uganda's creative industry and explore my opportunities. Being involved in creative processes and making something beautiful out of chaos, is what I am good at and what helps me pays my bills, while it also helps myself make sense of the world. Being a filmmaker allows me to connect worlds which I wouldn’t know how to connect otherwise. I admit that I had hoped somewhere deep down that something more stable would cross my path at some point. Whether that was in the form of a permanent job, regular monthly income or a different visa, four years ago I felt I had so little control over my life that that vague hope was the only thing I could rely on. But instead of stability, I got life and the confidence that I can handle life as it comes.

So I am where I am right now. Content, but inevitably dealing with the endless struggle that in Uganda, for people from the west, there is so little in between; if you want to work here it’s like you either go expat or you go village life. Meaning that eventually you either pay the full amount everywhere, or you never get an official business (and usually start living off of funding from abroad). Of course there is the option of being employed but in the creative industry of Uganda, contract jobs are very very scarce. There is no cheaper visa, when you're from anywhere outside of Africa, you're assumed to have money. Which is fair enough - and yet, it also keeps a certain system intact. It's mostly the rich people or rich organisations from the west who end up staying here. And it's those people and organisations who bring the narrative of the west to the people of Uganda and the narrative of Uganda to the people in their countries of origin. Of course there are people who come here and never (manage to) get into that system. There are people who get comfortable with endless tourist visas, doing voluntary work, getting funding from abroad or faking marriages in order to get a visa. After all these years, I don't even blame those people that much anymore - although things can get really messy (look at examples such as Renee Bach etc). My endless musings about this struggle can be terribly annoying and eat up so much of my energy, while never really getting fullfilling answers or solutions. But I try to keep going, and as long as there is movement and energy flows, I do feel like I am getting somewhere - and with me maybe some people around me too.

So this Friday, I woke up feeling happy. I took my daughter to school and set off to the bank. The only thing I still had to do now I had my new visa, was re-activate my bank account (which they had frozen because my visa had expired) and finally pay the agency that had helped me in the process of getting my official documents. Again it wouldn't be a quick online fix and would probably require more steps than I was expecting, but I was dedicated to figure things out today.

Only soon after I left my daughter's school, I figured out I had made a mistake; I had decided to drive into Kampala on a Friday, the day when traffic is at its worst. And although I am lucky to have a car, I actually rarely drive in Kampala; I don't really like driving and find boda transport way more convenient. "It's a real terrible!", as my daughter would say when something bad happens. I had been so positive that this was the last thing I had to fix and really didn't have much patience anymore. Shit traffic. I instantly started struggling to keep my happy thoughts collected while sweating like a pig in the hot car, boxed in by other dusty cars and bodas.

What should have taken me 15 minutes, took me about an hour. Okay, I tried telling myself, a little traffic jam isn’t so bad, you get used to them in Kampala - but I already predicted my journey back home would take even longer. Traffic in Kampala on a Friday seems to build up the entire day and reach its peak by 8 pm in the evening. My brain started wondering whether I could leave the car somewhere and pick it up later. But I had a lot of stuff in the car and couldn’t make a good plan where to park it safely. I would just continue with my day and try to not think too much.

Of course there was a line at the bank. In my experience, at most Ugandan banks, you have to go to the main counter first, explain what you've come to do, and then you're sent to the next line. When it was finally my turn, I struggled to explain my questions to the lady at the reception. Could I unfreeze my account and re-activate my internet banking? But wait. Wasn’t that the same thing? I had to explain that I had two accounts now; a personal account as well as a business account. I needed to transfer money from my personal account to my business account first and then make a payment from the business account. I needed to be clear about things such as that the payment didn't need to be instant, in order not to pay extra. My experience was that I had often paid extra for services and not been explained that that wasn't necessary, which I had assumed was simply because of my white skin. I got a package of different forms to fill out. The receptionist explained only the bare minimum and I felt like I wasn't allowed to ask any questions. I had to just figure out what exactly the forms were for by myself. Anything unclear? Go back in line. If there even still was a line, as people had started cutting it and were now flocking around the counter on all sides.

Two hours later, I was as good as done. Of course I wasn't able to fix everything I had wanted to fix but I had made some progress. Now it was time to open up a bank account for our ‘grandmother’, the lady who helps us at home, auntie Aisha. Auntie Aisha had come to the bank too and I had already figured out which account would be best for her. (At least I knew that you should only go to a bank in Uganda if you want to fix multiple issues, I thought). Auntie Aisha had asked me a few months ago to help her open up an account and during previous visits I had made to the bank, I had found out that there was a possibility of opening up a free account. So this Friday, after she arrived at the bank two hours later than planned because she has misunderstood that we would meet at home - but after I had also taken two hours longer than planned - we were ready to get the process started. We wanted the simplest account, just an account number and a card, to help auntie Aisha to save money. No need for sms services, internet banking or a dedicated personal advisor. We were aware that she wouldn't be getting any interest but at least the account shouldn't cost anything either. Saving cash money or mobile money in Uganda is hard, as you easily give out cash and mobile money in a country that runs on those as well as on a culture of extended family having to financially support each other. Auntie Aisha wouldn't have to tell anyone about her bank account. Like that she would hopefully be able to save and get her dream farm out of Kampala in the future.

We entered the line again. When it was our turn, we received the biggest package of forms auntie Aisha had to fill out. We were also told, to my surprise, that auntie Aisha had to put 20,000 UGX as a deposit on the account in order to open it up. I had been inquiring about the account and was never told this. Auntie Aisha hadn't come with that money and of course I was responsible for paying the deposit now, as I was the one helping her with the account. It wasn’t a lot of money.

But just when we wanted to start filling out the forms, the bank employee gave back auntie Aisha's ID-card, which she had had to show in order to receive the forms, and said we couldn't start the process.

What?

It turned out the ID-card was too new. We both didn't know what we were hearing. Of course we knew ID-cards can expire. But them being too new? Auntie Aisha had actually gotten her ID-card a few months earlier, she had proudly told me about that. Last year we had gone on the craziest road trip to Tanzania (because of visa issues) and both herself and her grandchild left the country purely on copies of their IDs then. That had worked at the time - but now she seemed to be doing the right thing, it wasn't going to work? Sadly she hadn't kept the copy of her old ID after that trip.

We were told that there was a way around it. Auntie Aisha had to go to a National Identification and Registration Authority office. She would need to get a letter there that her ID was real indeed. And with that letter, the bank employee was able to access something in her system which would allow her to activate the account. Although auntie Aisha was already about to give up on the bank account, I told her to just get the letter immediately. Now that we were on it, we'd better finish this. And so I gave her cash again. for a boda and later, after she called me that the line at the office was too long, sent her money to bribe one of the officers so she could at least still get the letter that same day.

As it was getting late and someone had to pick-up Nyla from school, I decided to do this myself. (Usually auntie Aisha does this). I had calculated an extra hour of jam but at least the school isn't that strict on pick-up time. The kids have to come on time in the morning, yes, but after school ends they can always stay and play a little longer in case parents are still struggling with Kampala's traffic. By the time I finally arrived at Nyla's school, auntie Aisha was on her way back to the bank and by the time we arrived home, auntie Aisha was told the bank's system was down and she would have to come back later to open up the account. Sigh. At least she had the letter from the National Identification and Registration Authority now.

In the evening, when I feel like I survived the long day, I was slapped in the face by another mistake I made that day. I had left the gas on after cooking. It must have been on for about 2 hours, while we ate and I did the dishes. There was no flame but I started noticing a bad smell. I immediately opened all the windows and took Nyla outside. We sat there for about 2 hours, while the house ventilated. I felt upset with myself. How had I been so stupid today? My thoughts were racing. What a mess do I make of my life sometimes. What a tiresome and useless day. Why am I actually in Uganda? Why am I doing all of this alone? But as I started writing, I felt that I softened. Mistakes are human. It’s just unfortunate that I feel in a position where I cannot be the one to make mistakes. As if I always have to be perfect, as if that I my responsibility.

A Friday like this should maybe be a reminder. A reminder of what life in Uganda can be like - and luckily I personally don't experience that many Fridays like this anymore. It’s also making me sharp and reflect on why I am in Uganda. I can look at how bad the day was if I measure myself according to the expat standard and feel like I can never be both okay with the chaos as well as the high financial expectations. Or I can just be extra grateful of the good things right now. I love this country. I love her people, her climate, her food, her positive energy, her endless possibilities... I love it that my daughter can experience the country her dad is from, that we can learn the language, the dances and other traditions. Oh how I love dancing in Uganda! I love it that in Uganda you can actually make mistakes and not be too harshly judged for it. It’s my own mind that has recently started judging myself according to Dutch standars again. But in Uganda, life is different. Businesses can fail and penalties can be reversed. I really created a pretty stable life in Uganda, but Uganda remaibs different from the Netherlands. Inevitability, I am a different person here too.

And I am able to feel extra grateful of the life we have because I know how life can also be. This was a Friday in Kampala, it wasn't my best day, and yet I still love Uganda. I am so happy here. Isn't that actually a reminder of true love? No matter what, tomorrow will be better again.