A river runs through it

A deluge of large hailstones were rattling the roof of the car in a truly tropical storm of rain, hail, wind and lightning as we crept along Kampala Road in near-zero visibility. It had been falling for about 20 minutes, and as we descended down the steep hill of Entebbe Road leaving the city centre behind we thought nothing of the water running down the road. That's nothing unusual – a red muddy stream racing away about three inches deep right the way across the road. We've seen it enough times elsewhere in Kampala. As we rounded the curve into Queen's roundabout we found instead of the usual junction of tarmac and striped kerbs there was a large red lake of churning water stretching more than a 100 metres into the distance.

Beneath the junction a large drainage channel runs under the road and through the industrial estate before making its way across the swamp into Lake Victoria. The drainage channel is there because it's the lowest point. The water in the lake wanted to get to the channel and was running over the top of the kerbs, over the grassed areas that divide the junction's various slip roads from the main road, past the fire station and down over the banks in a sort of mini version of Niagara falls.

We sat facing the lake, the first on our side of junction to decide to sit and wait rather than trying the aquatic abilities of our old Toyota Corona. On the other side, sat many matatus – minibus taxis – lined up like an opposing army with their blue strips. We could do nothing but wait for the worst of the water to run away.

But some had other ideas. A few brave types in Toyota 4-wheel-drives ploughed forward and seemed to get around the bend towards Nsambya, our intended route. This was too tempting for the driver of a Toyota Ipsum – which is a seven-seat people carrier, with small wheels and rather low on the road. He came past us at speed, and as he entered the deep water an impressive bow wave was created and for a while he seemed to make headway, until we realised that he was floating. He was adrift and worse, his engine had stopped and now the car was beginning to sink. It wasn't long before water was up over the bottom of the doors.

At this point I was feeling smug. Good decision: stay put, wait until it recedes. Sensible, sound reasoning I thought. But then I realised the water was still rising. The kerb to the side of us had now disappeared under water. On the back seat was a new A3 printer and scanner we had just bought. What if the water rose further? We might have to climb on the roof with them, and it was still raining, although not quite as heavily. The water was rising in my footwell under the pedals and I moved my feet up.

And then, as I'm weighing the options, looking out the door window at where the kerb is, I heard the sound of an engine. Looking behind me, on the opposite carriageway a jacked-up pick-up truck with huge wheels is coming at speed the wrong way with its big wheels splashing the water in all directions. I hit the window up button – but it was too late, it was only about a third up when the full force of muddy water hit, drenching the dash, steering wheel and me. It was the boys in brown – the police. Now I was brown too, covered in mud. They came to help us, bless 'em. But they just motored on into the middle of the lake, and up to a matatu, which was also sinking, after the driver had tried the impossible. The passengers were getting out of the matatu into near waist-deep water and were grateful to be able to climb up to relative dryness of this very high pickup truck.

Various youths and men were wading in the lake offering their services to vehicles whose drivers had been impatient enough to try and cross the river. They pushed the sunk Ipsum backwards to shallower water just in front of us. The driver opened his door and started baling with a water bottle. The pushers demanded money for 'labour'.

At last the water was going down and the rain had stopped - almost, which was good. What was not so good though was some lorry drivers on the opposite side decided the depth was not going to hurt them now and they were going to go through. But their bow waves were not fun for us as the water sloshed up into my foot well once again. A group of youths forming a chain splashed across the lake in a comical fashion to applause and laughter from many motorists, dodging the lorries that were pushing huge waves with their headlights on. With the water receding people got out of their cars and stood on the kerbs which were now re-appearing above the receding water line.

“Why doesn't Museveni (President of Uganda) do something about this? It's been like this for years,” one angry smart-suited driver said. But most were people were in good humour as they could see by now that the worst was over. A number of ancient Land Rover tow trucks arrived, from across the junction. The police signalled for one to tow the sunken Ipsum to one side. Our way was now clear and in front was an open expanse of water still, but not as deep as before.

Shall I go or should I stay – difficult judgement. Waves of motorcyles were surging forward around us, and the cars behind – many were 4-wheel-drive models – were hooting for us to get on with it. So I turned the starter – it worked! Off we went very slowly.

The water rose in the footwell again as we drove into the edge of the lake again. I decided rather than take our usual route - which still looked daunting by the look of the water around the motorcyles attempting it - I would go straight on and take an alternative route home. The water kept rising, the engine kept going and the opposite edge of the lake was now in view – nearly there. The hole in the footwell was now quite handy as the water just drained out as we pulled clear of the flood – acting instead as a sort of self-baling system like you'd find on a sailing dinghy.

As we pulled away leaving behind the watery choas of Queens I squeezed my brakes dry and we felt relieved that we did not have to abandon the car to the forces of nature. The rain had stopped after about forty minutes. Noah had a warning of forty days rain and now we've had a warning too. We'll be keeping right away from Queen's the next time the heavens open. A river runs through it.