Transactions Without Truth

There are a lot of things that make you tired about moving to Africa. You get tired because you never really know where you are and none of the streets are marked. You get tired because, even though everyone speaks English, you can’t understand a single thing that anyone says. You get tired because your kids are up sick in the night on a pretty regular basis. You get tired because things that used to be easy, like taking a warm shower, may take twenty minutes of planning and a master’s level feat of engineering.

There is, however, one thing that makes me more tired than anything else - dishonesty - consistent, blatant, unrepentant dishonesty. The honest truth about Uganda is that honesty is an extremely rare commodity. Everyone here lies. And the crazy thing is that no one seems to care - or really even notice - when someone is lying to them.

Now, there are small lies, there are big lies, and there are silly lies. Small lies are told by the taxi cab driver who says he “will be there in 10 minutes time,” when he really has no intention to arrive for over an hour. Big lies are told by your internet service provider who charges over one thousand dollars per month for “broadband service of 256 kbps” when the monitor on the router demonstrates that less than 50 kbps is actually flowing through your modem (for comparison purposes dial up in the U.S is 56 kbps). Silly lies are told by the same internet service provider when you show him the printout and he tells you that the problem is not that he has failed to provide you what was promised but rather that you failed to buy the more expensive package.

This seemingly accepted practice of systematic dishonesty makes commercial transactions nearly impossible. For example, Amy and I are desperately searching for a vehicle to purchase on the second-hand bulletin boards (imagine Craig’s list on the wall of a grocery store). Last week, I find what appears to be an ideal 1994 Toyota Land Cruiser. The price is a bit high, but it says it is negotiable, so I give it a shot. I call the number and talk to Sam. Sam tells me that he has the vehicle at his office, and that I should come to see it (lie #1). I arrive at Sam’s office, and he says that the vehicle actually isn’t there, but it is on its way (lie #2). He talks with someone on the phone and then tells me he’ll just bring the vehicle to my office later that afternoon (not quite a lie, but not necessarily true). He hands me a copy of the flyer with a picture of the vehicle and its identifying details, and I go on my way, having wasted an hour and a half of my day.

Later that afternoon, I get a phone call about the vehicle I wanted to see. I am told that the vehicle has arrived and that the caller, who I assumed to be Sam, will be over in a couple of minutes to show it to me (lie #3). An hour and a half later, two men show up in a Toyota Land Cruiser. Neither is Sam. I instead meet Richard. I pull out the flyer, show it to Richard and ask him if the car he brought is the one in the picture. Richard looks me square in the face and says, “yes it is” (lie #4). I point out the fairly obvious fact that the photo is of a vehicle with the word Prado painted prominently on the doors, and the vehicle in front of me bears no such markings. Richard is unphaased. I ask Richard what happened to Sam and the vehicle in the photo. Richard says, “Sam actually sold that particular vehicle this morning and asked me to bring this one instead” (lie #5). Moments later, Sam calls ready to show me the car we discussed this morning. He is somewhat upset by the fact that someone has tried to beat him to the sale. Richard, tells me that the caller must be an imposter (lie #6).

Intrigued by the drama, I go ahead and inspect the vehicle. I pop the hood and immediately notice that the second battery (turbo diesel engines have two batteries -who knew?) is missing. I ask Richard why there is only one battery and he says, “this is a different model - the model with two batteries has a lot of mechanical problems - one battery Land Cruisers are better.” (lie #6). I decide it is not worth pointing out the gaping hole with two now-empty connector cables where the missing battery should have been. I walk around to the side of the vehicle, and look at the insurance sticker, which prominently states that the current policy period commenced in June 2008. While standing directly in front of Richard and looking directly at the sticker, I ask “when was the vehicle imported to Uganda.” Without blinking, Richard says “three months ago.” (lie #7). I point out the sticker’s date, and move on. I look at the old school odometer and notice that the vehicle has significantly less mileage than my old 2002 Volkswagen and that the mileage of this vehicle is amazingly within 100 kilometers of the mileage listed for the vehicle in the flyer (lies #7 an #8). I ask Richard somewhat jokingly about whether his boss rolls back the odometers himself. At this Richard gets very earnest, and says, “it is not possible to tamper with such an odometer, as they are completely tamper proof (lie #9).

I just laugh and join in the fun, telling my new friend Richard that even I know how to roll back a fourteen year old odometer (lie #10).