Road Have Mercy

By • Jul 20th, 2011 • Category: WTH

I know, you’re probably thinking, ‘crap, not another post about roads’. I hear you, but I had the misfortune of coming across one yesterday and it severely displeased me. What was wrong with it, I hear you try not to ask, well, I’ll tell you anyway…


Some idiot, probably in the 1600s, very likely a failed Mathematician, looked upon a road and was filled with such sadness at the state it was in that he thought, surely, a road must not have to live like this. Armed with little more than a set of “set squares”, he embarked on his task; to dig out and relocate a troublesome pothole. Unfortunately, he had not gone very far when someone in the distance saw him and shouted, “hey you, likely failed Mathematician, what do you have there?”

He did not wait for an answer and set forth to beat the shit out of this dude…then a strange thing happened. When he arrived, the pothole had seemingly said, “screw this, I’m going home” and left for East Africa. In it’s place lay a little square patch that was practically screamed, “Feed me!” Thus the practice of filling potholes was born.

Now, having taken you back, let me bring you back to speed. The road that so offended me yesterday was practically riddled with these little squares and it displeased me so. So much so, I found myself discussing the state of the economy and how money is channeled to other things while roads lay there looking stupid. This, as you can imagine, pissed me off no end because it was slowly sobering me up.

Then I saw it…

Flower power

Someone, a botanist out to prove a point must have figured that plants can grow anywhere. This can be the only reason why after moving a few kilometers along a road being fixed, there’s a plant sticking out of the tarmac. Looking like a plant with a mid-life crisis and, to quote my teacher from back in the day, “looking for what to do”. This too was annoying.  Plants have no right to be growing in the middle of the road.

An official from the ministry of works will likely tell you that it is not the plant’s fault, but rather an effort to slow down drivers who might otherwise speed along and mess up the best laid square patches. This, as I’m sure you will concur, is dumb. Wouldn’t it be easier to get a semi-attractive lady and plop her in the middle of the road? Aren’t we trying to curb prostitution?

Split personality…or hide and go seek

As we continued to meander on the road, our sobriety making a swift and deadly come back, the road decided to play a little game with us. Some may call it, “now you see me, now you don’t”, but if you went to school or even had the chance to play games, you know that that would be a pretty silly name for a game. Here’s what happens. One minute you’re coasting on the mildly smooth tarmac of the average Ugandan road then suddenly, dust and rubble. I think people call it ‘corass’ or something that attempts to rhyme with the word. And then, as you are making your peace with the fact that the road has dropped the ‘woloks’ and is now presenting itself in its true colors, it suddenly switches things up and reveals a tarmacked patch. This does the vehicle you’re moving in no favours and consequently, you find yourself, along with your car in a bizarre dance. This in turn makes the stuff you ate and drank earlier come into contact and fight. Ultimately the winner seeks the nearest exit and you find yourself saying inappropriate things and making promises you can’t keep…stuff like, “I will never touch alcohol again”.

Malaya, as if…

Once in a while, you will find that the works ministry does a damn good job and you have a blast as you drive… or be driven. The road is incredibly smooth, the car practically glides and its tyres begin a short-lived relationship with the tarmac. Then you notice something, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself, the hummer that just overtook you seems to be having a blast as well… almost as much as the tetanus coated corolla from the 60’s that’s trailing you like a deranged vehicular serial killer.

Such is the state of the road today, goodbye.


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About Ivan

doesn't get why you feel compelled to force an accent when you're talking to summers