People-watching.
One of the things I do. A lot. Traffic offers a good choice.
Today, I decided on 10 cars that were stuck and we had been freed to go. For some reason, the traffic policemen at Wandegeya decided they would do a better job than the traffic lights.
Car Number One: A black Range Rover. Female driver was applying war-paint as she looked into a small mirror held in her left hand. As we passed, she was on lip-stage, slowly, sensually, admiringly.
Car Number Two: Male driver. Flipping through the Bukedde newspaper.
Car Three: Ipsum. Male driver. Looks like a father. Because there was a little uniformed girl dozing in the passenger seat. She hadn’t tied her seat belt.
Car Four: Asian man with one hand on the steering wheel. His car was a little out of line and he was trying to peer past the cars in front of him.
Car Five: Another nose buried deep in a newspaper. Monitor.
Car Six: The elderly female looked tired and harassed. Bad morning? Late for work?
Car Seven: Spacio new model. Couldn’t see the drivers as the blackened windows were drawn up.
Car Eight: Taxi. Empty save for three people. A driver whose eyes are fixed on the road, his face glum. The conductor in that space near the door. And a laughing traffic Nyange. Had he asked for a lift? Then why was he laughing and the others not joining in?
Car Nine: A sleek silver Mercedes Benz. I’m not a car person so I have no idea which model. The female driver and her passenger are having an animated conversation. The passenger has a phone in her lap. They’re both in sleeveless dresses. Corporate office ladies?
Car Ten: A weather-beaten (what my sister calls) contraption of a car. UAK- something. Yes, it looks rather unsafe, the paint on its once-white body is chipped in many places, tires are worn and the female driver in an afro is speaking on a smartphone.
