Roads have always played a crucial role in shaping Africa's history. During the colonial era, roads primarily served as conduits for extracting raw materials from the continent's interior to ports for shipment to Western countries. This infrastructure was more a symbol of colonial exploitation than a means of connectivity for African people. This legacy has left many African nations grappling with the need for well-paved roads that can withstand harsh weather conditions and unlock economic potential.
Kampala, the bustling capital of Uganda, is a city where the past and present intersect in its urban fabric and everyday perpetual motion. The city's history has been shaped by the control and negotiation of movement, while the future of its contemporary urban environment is contested daily.
Kampala Road at Night
The Colonial Infrastructure and its Impact on Kampala
This essay explores everyday mobility between colonial infrastructures and contemporary commercial spaces as essential for developing a method of architectural practice for Kampala, Uganda. The city is characterised by an incessant movement of bodies, objects and vessels.
Kampala’s history has been shaped by the control and negotiation of movement, whilst the future of its contemporary urban environment is contested everyday by fraught decision-making by the Kampala Central City Authority (KCCA). The KCCA, established in 2010 to deliver public services to the city, is insistent in their efforts to clean and control the urban landscape.
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Residents negotiate these power structures on the streets, alleys and railway tracks of downtown. Beyond the realities of a city undergoing runaway urbanisation, this essay explains how downtown Kampala is a confluence of specific historical trajectories inscribed into its urban fabric and everyday perpetual motion.
Three distinct forms of urbanism show how mobility was differently embedded into Kampala’s past. First, the era of a mobile indigenous city, moving from hill to hill, and characterised by mobility and a mixing of spatial functions. Second, the static city emerges in this context as an imposed colonial urbanism, insisting on segregated spaces and single-use built form. Third, the more dispersed Asian bazaar city controls downtown with Indian migrants overseeing an incremental growth of markets and vernacular dukas.
From the time of independence in 1962, these mobile and static manifestations begin to overlay and continue to be shaped by diverse influences. Today, the legacy of intersecting spaces is not only retained but also reinvented in downtown Kampala.
The Railway and Arcades: Remnants of the Past, Seeds for the Future
Across all the examples for making urban life, two domains stand out as sites of possibility to take the city in different directions: the single railway track and series of arcades. In both comparable and contrasting ways, they appear to represent separate stages of the city’s composition and, at present, define Kampala’s simultaneous growth and decay.
Previously a symbol of established and timetabled mobility, the railway infrastructure in Kampala now exists in an almost dead state. The single railway line, running in an east-west direction, slices through downtown as an impermeable colonial relic. Although the railway once served as Uganda’s lifeline, since the 1970s, traffic was gradually lost to road transport as investment and maintenance in track and rolling stock declined and the Mombasa-Kampala route was decommissioned.
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The Kampala Railway Station is now in limited use as an office for Rift Valley Railways, who privately operate a handful of freight trains daily. Today, at the eastern end of downtown, the station remains an iconic vestige of colonial architecture.
The building anchors the only formal set piece of planning in Kampala: the station’s front door forms an axis along Nakasero Hill with the parliament building. The station is a structure of brown sandstone, a two storey, horizontal volume. Since its construction in 1940, it remains almost unchanged in its present condition except for minor alterations and new paintjobs.
The floor plans disturbingly reveal excluded accommodation for Europeans (Upper Class), Asians and Africans (3rd Class). In its current limited usage, this enforced separation is not easily noticed, but is embedded within the layout and fabric of the building.
In an absence of authoritative control, these physical remnants of colonialism are repurposed with temporary vegetative and human occupancy. Street vendors, kiosk businesses, urban farmers and commuters gravitate towards the railway corridor: essentially now a slow-moving market space. The track has an unassuming presence in the city and everyday life has become integrated with the railway reserve.
At the same time, downtown has in recent years developed around this large railway reserve, a crumbling urban obstacle to be navigated and built around. Whether functional or not, the line continues to make its mark and highlight the long history of division.
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Life along the railway track could not seem further away from the inhabitation of the arcades. Despite their proximity in downtown, at first sight, the railway line is a static zone compared to the animated impression of the arcades. The latter appears as a space in motion, easily recognisable and where the physical fabric is constantly improvised. Meanwhile the once monumental railway is now inert and seemingly invisible.
They are deeply embedded in the structure of the landscape even as they register mobility in different ways. As outwardly ‘lively’ versus ‘dead’ systems they offer the possibility of assembling people and of slowing them down.
The modern arcades supersede the original Indian-influenced duka forms, replacing street-front shops with walk-through passages and endless runs of the same type of facade. The first kind of downtown arcade, Capital House, appeared in 1995 and was influenced by the design of Arabian malls.
Internally it accommodates a variety of traders in small commercial units with each level divided by different products. Located on the corner of the Old Taxi Park (minibus terminus), the sloping character of the ground is reflected in the substantial level change at each end of the building. Indeed, the arcade relies on the high footfall from the adjacent terminus, with people often moving through its narrow passage, which extends the whole block and connects to adjoining arcades.
This kind of circulation system has become useful for connectivity in the city, assisting pedestrian movement across downtown and away from boda-bodas that dominate the streets. These buildings are lively infrastructures as they absorb this activity and are a crucial medium and repository for the transitory, commercial culture of downtown.
Whilst the arcades and railway have in many ways facilitated a sense of space, it is also clear that mobility is impacted by impenetrable colonial fragments. At the same time, the everyday conditions and practices that have since become ubiquitous across downtown appear to collide, at times abruptly, with these inherited obstacles.
Such relationships are mapped out in three parallels of mobility: the crisscrossing of paths, the convertible use of space and points of convergence. First, these multiple crossings and everyday connections have become the very sustenance of these spaces. To crisscross the railway line and the ground floor of the arcade is not only an energetic shuffle between places, but also an overlapping and mixing of people as a social infrastructure.
Second, the dual potential of these spaces due to their convertibility makes them respond in particular ways to the passing of time on an everyday basis as well as in the long-term. The most recognisable example is the railway line used as a street. The ruinous quality of this conventional infrastructure invites appropriation by the loose cohesion of kiosks on one or both sides of the line and caters to the needs of the everyday traveller.
Third, as points of convergence there must be reason to pause. In a way, the capacity to converge relies on the preceding two factors of crisscrossing and being convertible. Both have knuckle-point intersections that channel movement and gather intense activity.
In a context where the outsider notions of public and private are inappropriate, the mutating and prevailing spaces of transport and commerce have emerged as alternative thresholds. These distilled features interpret three ways in which mobility is embedded within the arcades and railway and, in doing so, capture a specific geography of downtown Kampala.
To design for Kampala is inherently an improvised task. Incorporating the learned lessons from downtown Kampala, it is necessary that any approach to architecture is mediated by an idea of mobility. Hence, this proposal suggests an architectural form to be convertible, to be a place of convergence and to ensure mandatory occupant crisscrossing.
Decolonizing Kampala's Streets: A Push for African Identity
A campaign to rename street names in Uganda’s capital has gained traction as the Black Lives Matter protests and decolonisation movement that erupted after the US police killing of George Floyd sweep the globe.
Launched on June 9, the online petition urging the government to remove the names of British colonial figures from the streets, monuments and landmarks in Kampala has received more than 5,000 signatures. The campaigners say they will take the petition to Parliament on Friday, seeking action in the next 90 days.
Almost 60 years after independence, streets across Uganda are still named after British colonial soldiers, including Major-General Henry Colville and Lord Frederick Lugard among others. The military figures were responsible for waging expeditions in the late 19th century to depose kings and impose authority over kingdoms that existed for centuries before British colonial rule (1894-1962).
Street Signs in Kampala
And today, many people walking along Kampala’s streets are unaware that atrocities against their ancestors were perpetrated by people honoured with street names.
“The reality is that African history before colonial rule was mainly oral; it was not written, it was passed on from one generation to another and there are limitations presented by that kind of knowledge,” Apollo Makubuya, a lawyer and chief petitioner to decolonise Uganda’s streets, told Al Jazeera.
During the government of former leader Idi Amin, who ruled Uganda from 1971 to 1979, many streets in the capital were renamed. Malcolm X Avenue after the Black liberation and civil rights leader and Nkrumah Road after the revolutionary figure who led Ghana out of British rule still survive to this day after being renamed in 1972.
These changes happened against a backdrop of newly independent African countries reclaiming African or “authentic” names. In what is now the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the name of the country, cities, street names and even names of people were changed to show increasing cultural pride in African names, in an ideology known as Mobutuism after the then-leader Mobutu Sese Seko.
Makubuya said some of these attempts failed because there were no comprehensive guidelines to review the naming culture and objectives.
Mountain peaks, waterfalls and other natural features continue to be known by colonial names including Lake Victoria, named after the former British queen and empress of India. It is the second-largest freshwater lake in the world and the largest lake in Africa shared by three African countries - Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania. Yet it does not have an African name.
Back in Kampala, petitioners want to introduce a public education campaign so Ugandans know the full truth about their colonial history. They want colonial iconography placed in a museum and laws created to oversee the renaming of landmarks.
The Fall of Kampala: A Turning Point
The Fall of Kampala, also known as the Liberation of Kampala (Swahili: Kukombolewa kwa Kampala), was a battle during the Uganda-Tanzania War in 1979, in which the combined forces of Tanzania and the Uganda National Liberation Front (UNLF) attacked and captured the Ugandan capital, Kampala. Amin had seized power in Uganda in 1971 and established a brutal dictatorship. Seven years later he attempted to invade Tanzania to the south. Tanzania repulsed the assault and launched a counter-attack into Ugandan territory.
The Tanzanians began their assault on the city on the morning of 10 April. The 19th Battalion moved cautiously down the Entebbe-Kampala road. Other battalions of the 208th advanced on Port Bell. The 201st Brigade established its roadblocks north of Kampala and intercepted the forces attempting to reinforce Kampala from Bombo and those attempting to break out of Kampala. The 207th Brigade advanced from the west in tandem with the UNLF battalion, which secured Nateete and passed through Rubaga. One of the 207th's battalions seized Kasubi hill and the royal tomb of the Kabakas.
The 19th Battalion encountered only sporadic resistance and was greeted by crowds of rejoicing civilians. Upon reaching Kampala's city centre, the unit, lacking maps, had trouble navigating the streets. The Tanzanians secured the radio station and set up a command post on Kololo hill. The UNLF battalion occupied Republic House-the Uganda Army's headquarters at the edge of the city-unopposed, but was unable to take the State Research Bureau at Nakasero. Men of the 207th and 208th Brigades seized the southern and western portions of the city.
By dawn on April 11, Tanzanian troops had cut off all routes out of Kampala, including the road to Jinja, and began eliminating remaining pockets of resistance. Some UNLF forces conducted revenge killings against suspected collaborators with the Amin regime, while others attacked Kakwa and Nubians, both ethnic groups that had benefited from the dictatorship. Later in the morning Tanzanian artillery bombarded parts of the city.
The battle marked the first time in the recent history of the continent that an African state seized the capital of another African country and deposed its government. In the immediate aftermath, civilians engaged in rampant looting, despite the attempts of Tanzanian and UNLF troops to maintain order. A new Ugandan government was established by the UNLF.
Kampala Road Today: A Vital Transport Corridor
The road starts on Kampala Road, directly opposite the Kampala Road Branch of the Housing Finance Bank. This road is a very busy transport corridor. It is the second-busiest road in the country, after Kampala-Jinja Road. Before the opening of the Entebbe-Kampala Expressway, this road was the only direct link between the city center and the international airport.
Even under a bright noon sky, the darkness at the confluence of Nsalo Road, Sir Apollo Kagwa Road and Boundary Road persists like an ineradicable, congenital condition. The high, dense, tropical canopies interlaced by looping monstera vines and luxuriant bougainvillea concealing the inscrutable Perryman Gardens from view keep the air dark.
It was not built for motorised transport, and today, cars, as do customers, mostly avoid inner Old Kampala. Lugard arrived in Kampala Hill, later to become Old Kampala, six years after the General Act of Berlin (what the press and part of the intelligentsia like to call the Scramble for Africa - the Berlin Conference) granted what is today Uganda to Great Britain, as an area of interest, not yet a colony.
The hill station (to use the operational term of colonial administrative outposts of the time), lived in unease with the kingdom around it. The kingdom could do little about the representative of British power who sat here with a Maxim gun. And yet the kingdom was not weak enough for Lugard’s will to force the kingdom to grant him more land.
The years from 1884 to the signing of the Anglo-Buganda treaty of 1900, the 1900 Agreement, was the long African decade; from the Berlin Conference to effective colonial rule. Brief now in the longue durée of history, the settlements parted out into segregated quarters of “Gardens” left their mark in Ugandan life in the form of Anglo-Indian architecture, in Indian cuisine - Biryani, Tikka Masala and tandoori, and in spices - cumin, black pepper, cinnamon, coriander, ginger and chilli.
At its height, Old Kampala had achieved the rhythm and life of a booming, bourgeoisie civilisation. The many books and letters of the time describe a vibe and strain of culture whose absence has reduced the old town into a collection of the obsolete.
As the description of membership has it, in Old Kampala had also been planted the virus that would destroy the budding, imperial idyll. Colonial racism is baked into the old town. The “Gardens” were strictly segregated according to race and confession - Delhi Gardens for “Hindus”, Madras Gardens for “Mohammedans”, and Perryman Gardens, for “Europeans”. The fact that the land was taken by force would haunt the colony throughout its life, and eventually, undo it.
In the years before the British won the treaty that granted them legal cover to annex more land for the city, the hill grew ever more congested, a tight space in which administrative units, Mosques, Gurdwaras, Mandirs, schools, workshops, sports grounds, barracks, a police post and graveyards all had to be squeezed into a piece of land a fraction of Entebbe Airport.
The new century opened to a heightened pace. Kabaka Mwanga, whose reign had restricted British plans, had in 1897, been deposed and on the throne sat his infant son, Kabaka (later Ssekabaka) Daudi Chwa. The treaty of 1900 arrived with the completion of the Uganda Railway in 1900. The three-month caravan trek from the coast to Mengo was reduced to two days by train. Instantly, the volume of trade multiplied. The hill had never been big enough. Now it was choking with commercial life.
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