Kyadondo no longer feels the same
ON July 11, 2010, al-Shaabab, a terrorist group based in Somalia, launched two deadly bomb attacks on Ugandans at Kyadondo Rugby club and the Ethiopian village Restaurant in Kabalagala, leaving 79 people dead and several injured. New Vision remembers Ugandans who perished in the tragedy.
ON July 11, 2010, al-Shaabab, a terrorist group based in Somalia, launched two deadly bomb attacks on Ugandans at Kyadondo Rugby club and the Ethiopian village Restaurant in Kabalagala, leaving 79 people dead and several injured. New Vision remembers Ugandans who perished in the tragedy.
Today, Stephen Ssenkaaba writes about life at Kyadondo Rugby Club and the Ethiopian Village Restaurant a year after the blasts
It was drizzling. But the queue snaked on. It grew longer and soon, revellers were competing for space with commuter taxis on Jinja Road.
And as people lined up to pay their way to the next rugby game at Kyadondo Rugby Grounds, you still sensed a nostalgic longing for its greenery, its cozy environs and its adrenaline-evoking spirit.
As they slowly got swallowed into the wooden gates of the field, you realised the mixture of eagerness and apprehension written on some of their faces.
Only a year ago, this place was the venue for a horrid bomb attack that left over 50 people dead and several others injured during the live telecast of the soccer World Cup final on Sunday, July 11.
Aftermath
In the aftermath, it became a much feared place. So much that a memorial service organised there sometime after the blast, flopped.
One year on, Kyadondo seems to be getting back on its feet, slowly albeit steadily.
“It will take time before this place regains its former pomp,†says Sharon Atim, a regular at the club.
Atim says the memories of July 11 are still fresh in some people’s minds.
Atim used to frequent the club, but now, “I only come when there is a big rugby game, particularly involving my team, the Heathens.â€
Lively spot
Before the dreadful incident, the place was a hub for lively young professionals, who, tired from work, would lazily lounge at its wooden enclaves over cans of beer, roasted meet and youthful banter.
This was the case, especially during week days. But it’s the weekend that brought Kyadondo to its full life. Loud music blared from all corners of the thriving club, right from Friday night. Saturday festivities always started earlier, at about 3:00pm and by 5:00pm, ‘sticks’ of beef were already doing the rounds and bottles of beer fighting inside the fridge.
By 8:00pm, you hardly found space to squeeze around. Bevies of energetic people laughing the weekend away filled the space and drank well into the wee hours of the night.
Rugby games were an even bigger party. Kyadondo Rugby Grounds was the place for all city wannabes to be; the perfect hangout joint for revellers that cared more about having fun than the rugby games they always came to see.
Scantily-dressed women and men with huge muscles bulging from their tiny shirts, lined the stands, thumping their chests and with painted faces dancing the evenings away like traditional ritual dancers.
The games were always followed by huge parties, sometimes going on till midnight and beyond.
Few patrons
There is a way that July 11 changed all that. The weekly meeting of friends and patrons have become low-key and during the week, you find only pockets of individuals.
Monday, Tuesday, or any other week day will manage a few patrons sitting around the club and quietly sipping at their drinks. And after a while of friendly chatter, they quietly go back home.
There is an unmistakable serenity around the club these days, an air of poignant consciousness that you see in the measured way that patrons go about their business. The rugby games, however, continue to inspire pomp and pleasure.
At the June 12 Uganda Zimbabwe tie for example, I noticed enthusiasm around the club, as people lined up to watch the game.
The fanfare started fast and even though we lost the game, people danced and supported their team with a passion.
They later raided the bar with a passionate vengeance. The crowded bar, the small groups around barbecue stoves and hordes of people chatting away in the field after the game, indicated a steady resurgence to the glorious Kyadondo days.
Even then, the sad moments of July 11 were not lost on many of the fans.
“I used to enjoy coming here with friends to have a good time, but after that incident, I am a bit careful,†says Sam Kihumuro.
He says that even though people are trying to put the past behind them, Kyadondo doesn’t feel quite the same after the cruel terrorist attack.
Indeed, the party was short-lived as some people began trickling out of the field, moments after the game and a few beers.
Within two or so hours, the crowds were shrinking and by 8:00pm, most people were on their way out.
“Big games were big parties, says Sagal Timothy, an ardent Kyadondo fan.
“We stayed on for as long as we could, but today, we cannot hang around here for long… the bomb scares are still fresh in our memories,†he says.
Brian Tabaruka, a member of the Kyadondo Rugby Club executive committee says the July 11 blasts negatively affected the club.
“The number of patrons decreased as people feared to come to the club and we spent a couple of months without holding training sessions for players,†he says.
However, Taburuka says, over the past year, public confidence is slowly being restored after establishing stronger security measures there.
“We have sealed off all former entry points. We now have one entrance to the grounds. We have also introduced metal detectors, improved the lighting system and reinforced Police and private security personnel,†he says.
Low business
Ethiopian Village, the other venue for last year’s terrorist attack, still trudges on, trying to trace its way to the glorious days it experienced more than a year ago, before the terrorist attack. An attendant in this place, who requested not to be named, said business has significantly ebbed.
“We do not receive as many customers as we used to before the attack,†she said.
A late night visit to the once bubbly hideout feels pretty much like a lazy Sunday evening out. Patrons scattered in different corners of the restaurant quietly chatting to the Ethiopian ballads in the background, tell you how much life has been taken out of the once thriving upmarket restaurant.
With its huts tucked away in the dark corners of the restaurant, and with a handful of waitresses going around, the lingering sense of damage here is all too evident.
But Mollas Mogas, one of the staff here, says the village comes to life, especially on weekends.
“We have a number of customers here on Friday and Saturday,†he says.
Even though he agrees that it has taken a knock following the bomb attack, the village is fast coming back to life. “We are on, we are on. Come back a few more times and you see how well we are doing.â€
Despite this, management is not taking any chances. There is a powerful security point at the entrance and a police guard to check patrons as they come in. There are even other security measure in place which Mogas is not at liberty to discuss - “for security reasons.â€
One year after the bomb blast, life still goes on in the places that were worst hit. But it is not life as it used to be. Management and patrons agree that it will take some time before the sad memories and their impact fade.
Today, Stephen Ssenkaaba writes about life at Kyadondo Rugby Club and the Ethiopian Village Restaurant a year after the blasts
It was drizzling. But the queue snaked on. It grew longer and soon, revellers were competing for space with commuter taxis on Jinja Road.
And as people lined up to pay their way to the next rugby game at Kyadondo Rugby Grounds, you still sensed a nostalgic longing for its greenery, its cozy environs and its adrenaline-evoking spirit.
As they slowly got swallowed into the wooden gates of the field, you realised the mixture of eagerness and apprehension written on some of their faces.
Only a year ago, this place was the venue for a horrid bomb attack that left over 50 people dead and several others injured during the live telecast of the soccer World Cup final on Sunday, July 11.
Aftermath
In the aftermath, it became a much feared place. So much that a memorial service organised there sometime after the blast, flopped.
One year on, Kyadondo seems to be getting back on its feet, slowly albeit steadily.
“It will take time before this place regains its former pomp,†says Sharon Atim, a regular at the club.
Atim says the memories of July 11 are still fresh in some people’s minds.
Atim used to frequent the club, but now, “I only come when there is a big rugby game, particularly involving my team, the Heathens.â€
Lively spot
Before the dreadful incident, the place was a hub for lively young professionals, who, tired from work, would lazily lounge at its wooden enclaves over cans of beer, roasted meet and youthful banter.
This was the case, especially during week days. But it’s the weekend that brought Kyadondo to its full life. Loud music blared from all corners of the thriving club, right from Friday night. Saturday festivities always started earlier, at about 3:00pm and by 5:00pm, ‘sticks’ of beef were already doing the rounds and bottles of beer fighting inside the fridge.
By 8:00pm, you hardly found space to squeeze around. Bevies of energetic people laughing the weekend away filled the space and drank well into the wee hours of the night.
Rugby games were an even bigger party. Kyadondo Rugby Grounds was the place for all city wannabes to be; the perfect hangout joint for revellers that cared more about having fun than the rugby games they always came to see.
Scantily-dressed women and men with huge muscles bulging from their tiny shirts, lined the stands, thumping their chests and with painted faces dancing the evenings away like traditional ritual dancers.
The games were always followed by huge parties, sometimes going on till midnight and beyond.
Few patrons
There is a way that July 11 changed all that. The weekly meeting of friends and patrons have become low-key and during the week, you find only pockets of individuals.
Monday, Tuesday, or any other week day will manage a few patrons sitting around the club and quietly sipping at their drinks. And after a while of friendly chatter, they quietly go back home.
There is an unmistakable serenity around the club these days, an air of poignant consciousness that you see in the measured way that patrons go about their business. The rugby games, however, continue to inspire pomp and pleasure.
At the June 12 Uganda Zimbabwe tie for example, I noticed enthusiasm around the club, as people lined up to watch the game.
The fanfare started fast and even though we lost the game, people danced and supported their team with a passion.
They later raided the bar with a passionate vengeance. The crowded bar, the small groups around barbecue stoves and hordes of people chatting away in the field after the game, indicated a steady resurgence to the glorious Kyadondo days.
Even then, the sad moments of July 11 were not lost on many of the fans.
“I used to enjoy coming here with friends to have a good time, but after that incident, I am a bit careful,†says Sam Kihumuro.
He says that even though people are trying to put the past behind them, Kyadondo doesn’t feel quite the same after the cruel terrorist attack.
Indeed, the party was short-lived as some people began trickling out of the field, moments after the game and a few beers.
Within two or so hours, the crowds were shrinking and by 8:00pm, most people were on their way out.
“Big games were big parties, says Sagal Timothy, an ardent Kyadondo fan.
“We stayed on for as long as we could, but today, we cannot hang around here for long… the bomb scares are still fresh in our memories,†he says.
Brian Tabaruka, a member of the Kyadondo Rugby Club executive committee says the July 11 blasts negatively affected the club.
“The number of patrons decreased as people feared to come to the club and we spent a couple of months without holding training sessions for players,†he says.
However, Taburuka says, over the past year, public confidence is slowly being restored after establishing stronger security measures there.
“We have sealed off all former entry points. We now have one entrance to the grounds. We have also introduced metal detectors, improved the lighting system and reinforced Police and private security personnel,†he says.
Low business
Ethiopian Village, the other venue for last year’s terrorist attack, still trudges on, trying to trace its way to the glorious days it experienced more than a year ago, before the terrorist attack. An attendant in this place, who requested not to be named, said business has significantly ebbed.
“We do not receive as many customers as we used to before the attack,†she said.
A late night visit to the once bubbly hideout feels pretty much like a lazy Sunday evening out. Patrons scattered in different corners of the restaurant quietly chatting to the Ethiopian ballads in the background, tell you how much life has been taken out of the once thriving upmarket restaurant.
With its huts tucked away in the dark corners of the restaurant, and with a handful of waitresses going around, the lingering sense of damage here is all too evident.
But Mollas Mogas, one of the staff here, says the village comes to life, especially on weekends.
“We have a number of customers here on Friday and Saturday,†he says.
Even though he agrees that it has taken a knock following the bomb attack, the village is fast coming back to life. “We are on, we are on. Come back a few more times and you see how well we are doing.â€
Despite this, management is not taking any chances. There is a powerful security point at the entrance and a police guard to check patrons as they come in. There are even other security measure in place which Mogas is not at liberty to discuss - “for security reasons.â€
One year after the bomb blast, life still goes on in the places that were worst hit. But it is not life as it used to be. Management and patrons agree that it will take some time before the sad memories and their impact fade.