Kampala — Brian Mutebi observed the goings on at the railway crossing at Kinawataka in Kampala, where prostitutes are kept extremely busy...

DURING the day, it is a typical Kampala back road - dusty, potholed and littered with garbage, including used condoms. Carelessly tossed by the roadside, the condoms give a hint of what takes place here at night.

Under the cover of darkness, the road linking the Jinja highway to the railway crossing at Kinawataka turns into an open-air sex market, where truck drivers and their turn boys, soldiers from nearby barracks and youths from neighbouring Mbuya and Kinawataka residential areas come to shop for cheap sex, which they often consume on the spot.

After the workers in the factories and the Nakawa URA offices have gone home, followed by the petty traders and bodaboda cyclists, the road is taken over by a different group of people; the long-distance truck drivers who use the road as a free night parking yard.

Partially because of its proximity to the URA inland port and partially because of its strategic location, just off the highway, the drivers have turned it into one of their numerous homes away from home.

With the factory walls shielding it from prying eyes, the 1km stretch offers privacy that both the truck drivers and the prostitutes who come to entertain them, take advantage of.

The trucks begin arriving at dusk. They are from as far off as the DR Congo, Sudan, Kenya and Rwanda.

Although there is a lodge in the area, most of the drivers prefer to sleep in or under their trucks; it is cheaper and they are able to keep an eye on their goods.

Sunday Vision recently spent half a night there, to find out what takes place after normal working hours.

As twilight fell, and the number of commuters using the road dwindled, I took up position at a strategic spot. Soon it was 9:00pm. I entered one of the truckers 'camps'; a makeshift pub, by the railway line. This is where they converge to socialise and pick up partners.

Everyone inside, including the women, was smoking.

There were five men bargaining for three women. After haggling over the price, a pair would disappear into a temporary shelter behind the pub, only to return a few minutes later.

On realising there were not enough women to go round, two of the men decided to try their luck further along the road. "I have gone up, find me there," one of them informed his companions in Luganda. From a safe distance, I trailed him and he entered a barber shop opposite a sign reading 'Guy 5 Guest House'. After exchanging warm greetings, the man inside the salon handed him a packet of condoms.

Back on the street, my quarry linked up with a colleague who had followed him from the pub, and together they walked a short distance, before sitting on the verandah of a closed shop. I left them there, engrossed in deep conversation.

After strolling a short distance along the railway line, I went back and set up another observation post, a few metres from the 'camp'.

It was the same old routine; women walked into the camp to strike a deal with one of the truckers and then disappeared for a few minutes inside, behind, or beneath one of the trucks to transact business. As I looked out for an opportunity to witness a 'transaction', two women, probably market vendors returning home, came along.

One of them loudly wondered where all these prostitutes came from. "It is those women who do petty jobs during the day who turn into prostitutes at night," her colleague educated her.

When a group of truckers decided to relocate from the 'camp', I followed them. We ended up in a busy pub where there were several truckers drinking and playing pool.

When two truckers walked out, in the company of two women, I tagged along, ending up at the reception of Guy 5. After checking in at the reception, the truckers and their human cargo headed to their rooms, leaving me at the reception watching an X-rated movie on TV.

Several truckers, after failing to crack a deal in the pub, stomped back to the 'camp' grumbling, "Eri waliyo bagagga (only the rich can afford the place)."

Apparently the prostitutes picked from the pubs are more expensive, as they insist on transacting business in a lodge.

However, on seeing one of their colleagues they left behind negotiating, still at it, they put their sorrows aside to tease him, "Ono omuwala nga akaluba. Obwedda bakyali wano? (That woman must be hard to convince; all along they have not cracked the deal?)" Finally the 'hard' woman 'softened' and off they went behind the trucks.

My cover was almost blown when one of the truckers, who may have noted my aimless walking, asked whether I was "the turn boy of that vehicle" while pointing at one of the trucks.

Out of reflex, I answered "Yes", quickly adding "Oba what is he doing? I am getting impatient."

Satisfied that I was waiting for a boss who was probably busy transacting business nearby, he moved on.

At about 11:00pm, I relocated to another spot and watched as a fat man with a hairy chest seduced a tiny lady. They were squeezed in the front seat of the truck, with the lights on. For several minutes, I stayed glued to the spot, watching them. The blue movie came to an end when the man switched off the light, preferring to carry out the rest of the transaction in pitch darkness.

At about midnight, as I walked towards the Spear Motors workshop, I came upon a group of truckers standing by the roadside waiting for service providers. One soon came along. Unlike the others I had seen, this one was wearing a long skirt.

When one of the men tried to stop her, she angrily shouted, "Don't play with me. My husband is just behind there, if he finds you disturbing me, you won't like it!" Instead of running off, the man shouted back, "Rubbish! Your husband, who is he?"

I realised all this was part of the game, when the offended 'married woman' slowed down enough for the 'offender' to catch up with her and the negotiations began.

With the woman still playing hard to get, the man really had to plead; at one point dropping to one knee.

Finally the woman agreed, and the two were swallowed up by the darkness.

It was 1:00am; time to go to bed.