Learning to be a biker

So, Motorbikes. This is something that I’ve had to get used to. Everyone gets about here on motorbikes called boda bodas. At first I was very nervous about getting on one. Betty (my much-loved Ugandan colleague) explained to the driver that it was my first journey and he was nice and steady – despite the fact that I had wedged the ice cold bottle of water I’d just purchased between my thighs and his back, so as to have both hands free to hold on. As we travelled from supermarket to home, there were many moments where I couldn’t look – the roads here are busy and sometimes it was easier to shut my eyes than see him pulling out inadvisably at junctions. Equally, with my eyes open I could see potholes coming and be full of fear that he’d drive into one, allowing me to simply bounce off the back. While I seemed to see many inescapable holes coming with my eyes open, the anticipated bumps never came, which suggests that his judgement was always better than mine.

The next boda boda journey I did was on an untarmacked road, it was much more bumpy (which wreaked havoc with metrics of the pedometer that I  was wearing). Going downhill was reminiscent of a roller coaster and we got faster and faster. Without the water bottle in front of me this time, I had to keep remembering not to grip the driver with my thighs whenever I was scared. I was acutely aware that there’s a special term British motorbikers use to describe those who chose to ride without leathers. I can’t remember what the exact phrase is but it roughly translates as ‘he who wants to die painfully’.

Despite this, the more I ride the more relaxed I feel. We’re taught to be selective about who we get on a bike with – riders with number plates, wing mirrors and helmets are held to be more responsible than those without. I've come to realise that no one uses their wing mirrors, but those who haven't knocked them off tend to be better drivers. I’ve got my own helmet too which I take everywhere with me, the brand is ‘Care’ so I have adapted it using masking tape and pen to read ‘Clare’.

Now I've moved into my host home, bikes are the only way to get to and from town (another upset for the pedometer) and so I've had to learn to be a good passenger. We ride each day through a deep ditch created by railway tracks and despite the need to lean forwards/backwards I rarely bump the drivers head with my own (with about a 90% success rate) and mostly no longer hold on to the bike (like a local). I dread to think what my mother would say but I feel like a success!