Kampala's normal day is defined by two things: urgency and trade. When one visits Kampala, one finds her streets crammed with hustlers and pedestrians; employees running late to work or trying to catch a taxi home, street vendors hawking: bananas, lime, gum, and pirated music CDs. In the belly of the City - at Mini Price: vendors peddle second-hand clothes, plastic shoes, Brazilian hair, cosmetics while being entertained by comedians and street performers.
When one wades along the narrow and congested lanes of Downtown Kampala, one does well to be alert. There is an unwritten rule: be careful or a careless boda-boda will make you pay with your ribs. Tread carefully or your foot might squash someone's tomatoes.
The city is characterized by humans: trading, trying, and connecting. All this stalled when COVID-19 stretched its hands necessitating the imposition of lockdown.
I paid the nude city a visit in the middle of a lockdown. I hoped to visually project the vagaries of a nude city. I through my lens peered down at the nudity of the city: a city is devoid of her people, a city silenced by a virus the eyes cannot see.