My mom told me that my readers would want to hear the rest of the story.
Well, it goes downhill from here.
After managing to cross the street you find a nice, but tightly packed internet cafe.
The cute attendant gives you the time you ask for and you go and plug into the rest of the world
After an hour you return to the fact you are in Africa, pay and once again cross the street.
You enter DTB ... again.
After waiting 30 minutes in line, during which time you are harassed by a woman who (unkindly) sneers "muzungu" at you, a man who tried to cut in front of everyone, and the man behind you who thinks you need to stand closer to the people in front of you., you finally reach the hasseled and inefficiant attendant.
He looks at you and says "Will you please just come back tomorrow"
You refuse, explaining you have to travel the next day.
You BEG him to refresh the system to see if you have been added.
Claiming you haven't been, he refreshes.
And there you are!
You say That is me!
He says fine and says to pay.
Note: Due to the fact you are a proactive person, who tries to plan ahead, you had prepared 100 USD for payment. This is because the visa fee is said, on all documents, to be 100 USD.
You pass the crisp 100 USD to the man.
He looks at you and says "It has to be Ugandan Shillings"
At this point you lose it with the man.
You explain that the payment is equal to the Ugsh. And that you are sure he can get the money exchanged.
He flatly refuses and tells you there is a forex at the end of the building.
You are so annoyed at this point you grab your things and run out the door.
You stop outside and start to cry, which gets the shocked attention of the security guards.
Finally you get into the 3rd door and wait in line for a long while
Still a bit shaken, you pass the now wrinkled and bent 100 dollar bill to the teller who gives you the wad of UgSh.
You force yourself back through the first door and to the window again.
You defeatedly give the man your money. He has the nerve not to give you your change.
You demand it.
He rolls his eyes
You are done. No therapy can restore this soul.
Thankfully I did go to my meeting with my new friend/contact Esther. We had a lovely time together and she offered me a GREAT place to live in Kampala.
I will be moving to Kampala at the end of the month for around 6 weeks. More on this later.
I am sick everytime I come home to Mbarara.
Well, it goes downhill from here.
After managing to cross the street you find a nice, but tightly packed internet cafe.
The cute attendant gives you the time you ask for and you go and plug into the rest of the world
After an hour you return to the fact you are in Africa, pay and once again cross the street.
You enter DTB ... again.
After waiting 30 minutes in line, during which time you are harassed by a woman who (unkindly) sneers "muzungu" at you, a man who tried to cut in front of everyone, and the man behind you who thinks you need to stand closer to the people in front of you., you finally reach the hasseled and inefficiant attendant.
He looks at you and says "Will you please just come back tomorrow"
You refuse, explaining you have to travel the next day.
You BEG him to refresh the system to see if you have been added.
Claiming you haven't been, he refreshes.
And there you are!
You say That is me!
He says fine and says to pay.
Note: Due to the fact you are a proactive person, who tries to plan ahead, you had prepared 100 USD for payment. This is because the visa fee is said, on all documents, to be 100 USD.
You pass the crisp 100 USD to the man.
He looks at you and says "It has to be Ugandan Shillings"
At this point you lose it with the man.
You explain that the payment is equal to the Ugsh. And that you are sure he can get the money exchanged.
He flatly refuses and tells you there is a forex at the end of the building.
You are so annoyed at this point you grab your things and run out the door.
You stop outside and start to cry, which gets the shocked attention of the security guards.
Finally you get into the 3rd door and wait in line for a long while
Still a bit shaken, you pass the now wrinkled and bent 100 dollar bill to the teller who gives you the wad of UgSh.
You force yourself back through the first door and to the window again.
You defeatedly give the man your money. He has the nerve not to give you your change.
You demand it.
He rolls his eyes
You are done. No therapy can restore this soul.
Thankfully I did go to my meeting with my new friend/contact Esther. We had a lovely time together and she offered me a GREAT place to live in Kampala.
I will be moving to Kampala at the end of the month for around 6 weeks. More on this later.
I am sick everytime I come home to Mbarara.
It's not therapy, but here's a big hug from Detroit.
ReplyDelete