To be a Kampalan is to find a tribe with whom you can freely laugh

There is a tiny, barely lit place ensconced in the belly of the Ethiopian Village restaurant along Muyenga Road. It’s a little place, rough on the edges and it wouldn’t look out of place in a bohemian version of Nirvana. But you must want to find it to see it. It’s barely noticeable. Once you find it, the random open mic poetry, music and accompanying laughter at the absurdity of life will have you hooked more than their passably tasty cocktails will. I’ve been going to it more frequently than I would like to admit among my “serious friends”. While taking stock of my time recently, I asked myself why that’s the case and whether you folks also have that kafunda where you feel that “joie de vivre” at being in the midst of literal strangers with whom you share memories, a place where politically incorrect jokes aren’t an invitation to be canceled, a place where you can let your hair down and laugh at the odds so hard, they might fear to take you.

A place where you can truly reflect about what it means to be a Ugandan in the capital city. This is a city where traffic lights are merely an advisory device best obeyed by looking at the traffic officers’ frantically moving hands while keeping an eye on the next Boda Boda flying like a bat out of hell. A place where we accept that our politicians are more important for comedic value than for socially beneficial policies. When you live in this city, you quickly realize that the arts, laughter and satire aren’t just pastime activities of supine Ugandans, they’re the essential balm with which life can be bearably lived. I wanna hear about that place that does this for you. Tell me about that place where you go to freely laugh in order to escape the harsh realities of daily existence. Drop me an email or something.  Email:

[email protected] X: @TonyNatif