On the road with Kampala’s speed masters

It is a breezy Sunday morning in Kampala and I am sitting with Patrick Bahemuka, a big, somewhat grim man in black Icon Field Armor gear. His huge hands incongruously hold a small cup of coffee.

“Riding starts with the heart,” he says. He means bike riding. Bahemuka is one of the founder members of the Uganda Bikers Association.

“What do you mean riding starts with the heart?” I ask.

“Well, it is hard to explain,” he says nonchalantly. “When you are riding, your heart has to be strong. We ride at speeds that exceed 130kph on machines that are ten times more powerful than the average boda boda. You cannot allow yourself to be afraid.”
He says the bike “feels” the rider.

In Kampala, bikers are a regular sight — a phalanx of up to 30 bikers on gigantic machines, faceless behind their helmets — heading out of the city. It is like something out of a movie.

Bahemuka says the association is made up of people from all over the world who live in Kampala. They are held together by their love for bikes.

“It all started in 2003 with three people: Myself, Jonathan Namugoya and Shaft Bbosa,” he says. Many more bikers joined them and today, the Uganda Bikers Association is registered, with members paying joining and annual subscription fees.

“We do everything by the book,” Bahemuka says.

He says discipline and sobriety are cherished virtues among the members.

While the stereotype bikers are bad boys cruising on their “steeds of metal” and using every opportunity to reinforce the philosophy that rules only exist to be broken, the Ugandan bikers are models of conformity.

“Not everyone can join the club,” Bahemuka says with finality. “We study you to see if you are a show-off, indisciplined or the type of guy who gets into fights, drinks or does drugs. Riding and alcohol do not mix.”

Indeed, the coffee shop we sit in is one of the club’s sponsors and, going by the number of members present, caffeine seems to be their stimulant of choice.

But what makes biking so popular in Kampala?

The capital city’s topography may explain it. In Nairobi, for instance, the city centre is flat, and there is only a gradual incline from east to west. Dar es Salaam, too, is mostly flat, with the altitude dropping gently eastwards to sea level.

But Kampala is a city built on hills. Originally, there were seven hills, Kasubi, Mengo, Kibuli, Namirembe, Lubaga, Nsambya and Kampala, but the city has expanded beyond them. In this hilly landscape, a posse of bikers looks awesome.

But it is an expensive hobby. A good machine, like Bahemuka’s BMW R1200GS, costs about $15,000. The fact that all the bikers individually buy their rides means that it is an elite club. Most of the members are high-flying professionals or successful business owners.

One of them is a marketing manager of an insurance company, another is an art director in a leading advertising agency, while another owns a construction company. One is the general manager of a multinational supermarket chain.

Still, the majority of the bikers do not come from the rich parts of town such as Nakasero and Kololo. They live in Muyenga, the neighbourhood for the city’s nouveau riche. Perhaps that explains the men’s affinity with such a flashy pastime.

One of the bikers, Nehemiah, says he saved his pocket money for seven months while in university to buy a Honda VT 250, which he calls Delilah, because of “her” attempts to get him killed. He says it was the “freedom of it all” that drew him to biking.

“Every guy I know has at least once in their lives wanted to ride a bike. Every guy likes a cool looking jacket. It’s the way it is,” he says.

“I think bikers are free spirits,” says Guy Mambo, a poet. “They espouse freedom, speed and, I guess, danger. Danger maybe, most of all. You are a man on two wheels competing with chariots, which has to be dangerous.”

Taremwa Eve, an economist, says the thought of marrying a biker gives her the chills.

“It’s too risky, I would worry too much,” she says. But she would not mind dating one.

Talking to bikers, I can’t help but be reminded of martial artists and the entire spectrum of philosophy that talks about “oneness” and “being at peace in the moment.”

Very thrilling

“This is not just transportation; we all own cars. Every time you get on a bike, you confront yourself. The adrenaline is very thrilling,” Bahemuka says.

“When you ride, there is the energy that you feel, and the power that comes with calming it down. It takes you to a zone where it is just you and the bike.”

A lot has been said about this connection, where the rider develops a bond with his vehicle, almost imparting some of his personality to it.

In Robert Pirsing’s cult classic, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, this bond is explored from the angle of solving mechanical problems. The rider has a frequent need to maintain his bike and somehow maintains his own self in the process. The biker rides as part of his machine, unlike a car driver, who is simply in it.

“You have to listen to your bike. That is why sometimes we take them for test rides before big trips. Because it is dangerous. The helmet and armour help, most times you should be able to get up and walk away. But, if you are in a collision, your chances are not good,” says Bahemuka matter-of-factly.

If the rate of accidents is high (the relative risk of a motorcycle rider being killed or seriously injured is around 20 times higher than car users), this is not helped by the attitude of road users in the country.

“There is a general disdain for motorcyclists on our roads,” says Mambo. “In the hierarchy, riders are equivalent, or even inferior, to the pedestrian.”

John Sting, a Canadian-born Ugandan biker who runs a tattoo parlour at Kisementi, says he has often experienced this.

“This attitude helps no one, and serves no purpose except putting road users in danger. You won’t believe it, but we suffer a great deal because of the attitudes of some people towards us. Some motorists cannot wait to cut in ahead of you in traffic, or shove you off the road. They are trying to prove some point, I guess; you to overtake on the wrong side of the road or lie in a trench.”

In spite of this state of affairs, none of the members of the Uganda Bikers Association has ever had an accident, a fact they take much pride in.

While the hobby maybe dangerous, they say it also has many benefits, including increasing one’s alertness, concentration and controlling weight.

Bikers say that a great deal of camaraderie is developed on the road, with bikers often becoming lifelong friends.

They say self-control and discipline spreads to the workplace, resulting in better decision-making skills and increased efficiency.

Keep up

At least one good machine is essential if you are going to keep up, they say. They do not stop for rain or anything — they keep going. Some own more than one bike, using them for different occasions.

And they have been around the continent, from the grand Victoria Falls in Zambia to the hills of Kenya.

Apart from thundering round the mind-boggling bends of southwestern Uganda and Rwanda, they have attended the classic motor show, Concours d’Elegance, in Nairobi. They have had dinner with South African singer Yvonne Chaka Chaka in Johannesburg, eaten caterpillars in Botswana, and are still going.

“It’s adventure,” Bahemuka says. “Everywhere we go, we are welcomed, sometimes with police escort.”

But they do more than joyride. They also participate in charity work. The bikes being the attraction they are, it is easy for them to sensitise boda boda riders and other people on road safety, which is one of their passions.

The association also conducts HIV/Aids awareness drives, and even pays school fees for Aids orphans in Mbuya, Kampala.

They hope to open a clubhouse and a motoring centre, with bikes for rent to tourists and enthusiasts who cannot afford their own.