On a work Monday, I went to Kampala Road, right by City Square which, in terms of chaos, is the closest thing Kampala has to Times Square, except you multiply the confusion by a thousand and remove any illusion of order. I stood on the pavement separating Kampala Road and Pioneer Mall after leaving all jewelry, tech, and my phone at a friend’s shop nearby. I wanted to observe with no fear of being pickpocketed.

Once the cab drivers finished being suspicious of my presence on their turf, I settled in.

What you find at the heart of Kampala is an endless sea of boda bodas moving in no discernible order, carrying people, packages, small domestic animals, and whatever else needs to get somewhere fast. Boda bodas run this city. They weave between cars, people, and each other with absolute confidence. Traffic lights are merely a suggestion. A boda will blow through a red light, lock eyes with a driver who has the right of way, and honk at them as if the car were the problem.

Layered over this is a soundtrack of honking horns and revving engines, punctuated by looping audio advertisements marketing everything from televisions to mobile data plans. It’s loud. It’s relentless. It’s alive.

There’s no way to experience it other than to stand in it and watch.

Everyone is rushing somewhere, so you’re almost invisible. Food vendors speed past carrying meals to destinations you’ll never know. A mother hustles her children toward a taxi that’s already half-pulling away. A man balances an impossible load on his back. A delivery truck unloads supplies into a nearby clinic. Every single sense is activated at once.

I took it a step further and walked into Pioneer Mall. What used to be one floor now has four underground levels and at least four above ground. I went up to the third floor to see the city from above. It was evening rush hour. Traffic was slow not because people were disappearing, but because everyone was there and there was simply nowhere left to go.

I wandered aimlessly, stopping to read newspaper stands and peer into shop windows, weaving between cars and bodas to cross the street, occasionally getting yelled at by city construction workers for unknowingly stepping into the path of progress.

Even with so much of this city left to experience, you don’t have to look hard to find chaos in Kampala.