Something is happening in Tororo

I am writing this from Tororo. In the thick of one of Uganda’s busiest transit towns. From here, less than 12 kilometres part Uganda from its neighbor Kenya. 
The town is hot. The sun is out and blistering. You can easily tell because the grass too is fighting a brown bleach occasioned by less water. The majestic Tororo rock still overlooks the town seeing it sprawl away from its main streets into the villages. Off the main road, concrete and cement are matching up new homes. In the town, a coffee shop has opened – a real fancy coffee shop with a Barista. Never mind its Somali roots, it is still a sight to behold in the city. 

Some of the city’s earlier buildings are due for decommissioning – and they are easy to sight. It’s either they are decommissioned and life saved or they decommission themselves and take some lives in the process. 
The jolly good smiles in the streets may betray a simmering silent displeasure. In the last election, the Jopadhola and Iteso went at it. They demanded the district be cut into two and each given new boundaries – I sit next to a man who is old enough and hears the deepest secrets and he tells me, now, two districts is not enough – four may be. And that’s on the low end. 

The business boom of the night that many were accustomed to has died out. In part, because of the pandemic – and the other part due to the changing face of business. When lockdowns were announced and pressure exerted on truck drivers, many learnt to reduce the long route from Mombasa to Kampala. Part of the strategy was to skip lodging towns like Tororo. And you can tell it is hurting. In the hotel I sleep for the night, the dust is cleared up before I check-in causing me a terrible flu. Years back, you’d need to call in advance to get decent lodging – now all is up for grabs. 

The night economy too is all but dying. Small kiosks still run supported mostly by workers leaving the cement factory that has a lion’s share of local business here.  The workers in the factory too continue is disquiet. At night over a maize and chapati stall, one tells me their strike recently didn’t yield enough. They got a raise but the renewed double-digit inflation is wiping it out fast and quick. 

After a few swigs of cultured brew, some will tell you they are happy one of their own [From the East that is] is in-charge of things at the Central Bank. They swear by the wisdom of men from the East. But so is the Vice President and the Speaker. 
Later in a room with most elected leaders from the East in which we talk about taxes, some tell me they are unhappy with the increased taxes on boda-bodas. Government moved to assembling motorcycles in Uganda and increased taxes on their importation. That made trade impossible for communities like Tororo where the Boda is a proper business enabler. The name itself [boda-boda] is derived from being able to move from border to border. One leader tells me the cost of a bike 12 kilometres from Tororo [in Kenya] is roughly $900 [3.4mn] but to get it from Kampala where the assembling is to Tororo brings the cost to $1420. He says they plan to make it a campaign issue – with two likely solutions – to allow bikes from Kenya in at cheap rates or to force the assembly plant to set up shop in the border communities. I wish him good luck.
 
Tororo is a lot of stories all happening at once. The kind of place to stay and write a book about. 
Oh, the rains pour on the first night we stay. It’s a sight to behold rains coming down a hard rock. 
In part 2 we shall get into the meat of Tororo’s business community and their perception of taxes – and how that might be Uganda’s saving grace.