Nakulabye’s cheap rolex, molokony
Jan 18, 2003
It is a cold Monday evening after a burdensome El Nino downpour. After a heavy traffic jam, the taxi conductor finally mumbles “tukomye wanno.â€
By Denis Jjuuko
It is a cold Monday evening after a burdensome El Nino downpour. After a heavy traffic jam, the taxi conductor finally mumbles “tukomye wanno.â€
On my right hand side are groups of women happily seated behind their makeshift counters.
Those who are not so busy are involved in some short stories about their neighbours and how mama John comes back way past her husband’s bedtime.
To them, a wife must be home before her man. Gosh! These are agents of imperialism. My ‘friend’ Mr Robert Mugabe, a leader somewhere in Africa, would just send his war veterans to finish them off. Luckily enough, they live in Uganda. Yes ‘luckily’.
Living in Uganda is also fine you know. Although, I know some Kyeyo-interested chap is probably cursing me now.
Anyway, back to the story at hand; suddenly, the storyteller stands up to welcome the customer. It’s about 8:00pm. She immediately goes through her menu with a lot of ease, at times pointing at the items and once in a while lifting the saucepan covers to convince the already convinced customer.
A few men are busy eating beef direct from the melamine plates, which were once white but are now are very brown.
Others are just salivating at anything. Those who cannot stand the coldness of this side of Kampala are packing their delicacies into white polythene bags.
“Nnalongo nyongera ku soup (Nnalongo give me soup),†one man pleads. He looks every inch a bachelor.
This is Nakulabye. A place famous for weird bars like The Inferno, Volcano and SimCat and pork establishments such as Nicodemus.
It is a popular place for roadside open ‘restaurants’ which sell roast meat. They only operate at night.
In today’s Uganda where virtually everything done does not quite feel complete without the adjective ‘operation’, you can say this is ‘Operation Cassava’ or maybe ‘Operation Gonja’. So, how do folks spend their supper here?
A man paces from the direction of Makerere University and stops here for supper before he walks another mile or so to his den somewhere in Kiyaaye or Kiwuunya.
Do not ask me what that last name means. Just look for a Luganda dictionary. Besides, my object in writing this is not to promote the language.
Supper in Nakulabye is cheaper and their invisible menus have all the variety. From sweet potatoes, cassava prepared in different ways to purplish yams.
Offals, cow hooves (Molokoni) and ‘fuleesi fiisi’ (fresh fish) are some of the varieties these women have to offer.
One is sure to get a complete plateful of matooke, pilao and cassava flour.
The place just near the taxi stage is very popular. Close to 20 women sell their stuff (and I am talking about food-okay?) to Nakulabye’s mass population.
This is an interesting side of Kampala as far as supper is concerned.
There are quite many who never eat it but drink it. Yes, people in this suburb of Kampala have a habit of buying buns and then sit down to hammer them down with ‘dry’ tea.
To them, this life is okay. For others the popular ‘Rolex’ (Chapati rolled with eggs and cabbage) does just fine. The object is simple –– not to spend a lot on meals. And who said they are important?
Now there is a new item called ‘Chips-Nyama Choma’. Kilogrammes of ‘boneless’ meat are perched up together on a metallic wire, which is erected beside a round metal stove.
The roaster then gets a small metallic cup and peels off the roast meat. Meanwhile, somebody else is preparing chips from a Katwe-made frying pan. The end result is mixed with salad.
It is a popular meal in Nakulabye, the suburb that former drunkard who was once president made famous.
Some sit down and eat this oily meal that costs sh1000 while the majority park it in buveeras (polythene bags), takeaway style for home.
“You can’t get this meal from any of these restaurants at this price. I save sh1000,†a campus student called John says.
A trendy girl who could not keep her hands off his waist was in fact escorting him. The couple then sauntered down towards Kasubi in an ecstatic mood.
A metallic blue Toyota Corolla popularly known as kikuumi screeches to a halt. The man in a blue necktie hops out and shouts “Muvubuka nga bulijjo (give me the usual stuff youngman).†From this statement, I surmise that he is a regular customer.
“Right away customer,†the boy selling foodstuff shouts back.
As the boy struggles to impress his classy customer, the man –– a chatterbox of sorts, goes ahead to reveal another secret: “you know my son loves chips.â€
“And what about your wife?†I eventually ask, unable to resist the temptation to join their conversation.
“That one, ah... she is mad about ‘rolex’. Eh, by the way, make some as well,†he answers as he instructs the boy on the next stall.
Nakulabye’s night life continues until past midnight. On weekends, some just rush out of the New Life Bar to order for a chapati and then back.
But for a nocturnal of sorts, it is time for me to return home and wake up the already snoring daughter of Eve, demand whatever she has and life continues.
It is a cold Monday evening after a burdensome El Nino downpour. After a heavy traffic jam, the taxi conductor finally mumbles “tukomye wanno.â€
On my right hand side are groups of women happily seated behind their makeshift counters.
Those who are not so busy are involved in some short stories about their neighbours and how mama John comes back way past her husband’s bedtime.
To them, a wife must be home before her man. Gosh! These are agents of imperialism. My ‘friend’ Mr Robert Mugabe, a leader somewhere in Africa, would just send his war veterans to finish them off. Luckily enough, they live in Uganda. Yes ‘luckily’.
Living in Uganda is also fine you know. Although, I know some Kyeyo-interested chap is probably cursing me now.
Anyway, back to the story at hand; suddenly, the storyteller stands up to welcome the customer. It’s about 8:00pm. She immediately goes through her menu with a lot of ease, at times pointing at the items and once in a while lifting the saucepan covers to convince the already convinced customer.
A few men are busy eating beef direct from the melamine plates, which were once white but are now are very brown.
Others are just salivating at anything. Those who cannot stand the coldness of this side of Kampala are packing their delicacies into white polythene bags.
“Nnalongo nyongera ku soup (Nnalongo give me soup),†one man pleads. He looks every inch a bachelor.
This is Nakulabye. A place famous for weird bars like The Inferno, Volcano and SimCat and pork establishments such as Nicodemus.
It is a popular place for roadside open ‘restaurants’ which sell roast meat. They only operate at night.
In today’s Uganda where virtually everything done does not quite feel complete without the adjective ‘operation’, you can say this is ‘Operation Cassava’ or maybe ‘Operation Gonja’. So, how do folks spend their supper here?
A man paces from the direction of Makerere University and stops here for supper before he walks another mile or so to his den somewhere in Kiyaaye or Kiwuunya.
Do not ask me what that last name means. Just look for a Luganda dictionary. Besides, my object in writing this is not to promote the language.
Supper in Nakulabye is cheaper and their invisible menus have all the variety. From sweet potatoes, cassava prepared in different ways to purplish yams.
Offals, cow hooves (Molokoni) and ‘fuleesi fiisi’ (fresh fish) are some of the varieties these women have to offer.
One is sure to get a complete plateful of matooke, pilao and cassava flour.
The place just near the taxi stage is very popular. Close to 20 women sell their stuff (and I am talking about food-okay?) to Nakulabye’s mass population.
This is an interesting side of Kampala as far as supper is concerned.
There are quite many who never eat it but drink it. Yes, people in this suburb of Kampala have a habit of buying buns and then sit down to hammer them down with ‘dry’ tea.
To them, this life is okay. For others the popular ‘Rolex’ (Chapati rolled with eggs and cabbage) does just fine. The object is simple –– not to spend a lot on meals. And who said they are important?
Now there is a new item called ‘Chips-Nyama Choma’. Kilogrammes of ‘boneless’ meat are perched up together on a metallic wire, which is erected beside a round metal stove.
The roaster then gets a small metallic cup and peels off the roast meat. Meanwhile, somebody else is preparing chips from a Katwe-made frying pan. The end result is mixed with salad.
It is a popular meal in Nakulabye, the suburb that former drunkard who was once president made famous.
Some sit down and eat this oily meal that costs sh1000 while the majority park it in buveeras (polythene bags), takeaway style for home.
“You can’t get this meal from any of these restaurants at this price. I save sh1000,†a campus student called John says.
A trendy girl who could not keep her hands off his waist was in fact escorting him. The couple then sauntered down towards Kasubi in an ecstatic mood.
A metallic blue Toyota Corolla popularly known as kikuumi screeches to a halt. The man in a blue necktie hops out and shouts “Muvubuka nga bulijjo (give me the usual stuff youngman).†From this statement, I surmise that he is a regular customer.
“Right away customer,†the boy selling foodstuff shouts back.
As the boy struggles to impress his classy customer, the man –– a chatterbox of sorts, goes ahead to reveal another secret: “you know my son loves chips.â€
“And what about your wife?†I eventually ask, unable to resist the temptation to join their conversation.
“That one, ah... she is mad about ‘rolex’. Eh, by the way, make some as well,†he answers as he instructs the boy on the next stall.
Nakulabye’s night life continues until past midnight. On weekends, some just rush out of the New Life Bar to order for a chapati and then back.
But for a nocturnal of sorts, it is time for me to return home and wake up the already snoring daughter of Eve, demand whatever she has and life continues.