Kiteetikka: The haven of goat mchomo

To a passer-by, the event seems like a wedding of a prominent person in town, with over 40 cars parked on the roadside. However, it is a barbecue spot. Kiteetikka, which used to be a lonely roadside, is a small trading centre between Mpererwe and Kasangati, along Gayaza road. It is about 11km from Kampala City Centre. It was once a black spot and no car could ever park there. It was renowned for thieves and insecurity.
Of course, it is not the only barbecue spot in Kampala, but the way chefs are organised is extraordinary, at least for a roadside barbecue point. While the many we are familiar with sell a variety of meat, Kiteetikka never followed suit. Its menu is strictly goat.
No wonder its enthusiasts say it offers the quintessential goat barbecue. “I like the way they roast their meat. It is crisp and aromatic. This is my favourite joint which is near home,” says David Mugerwa, one of the customers. Mugerwa who stays in Gayaza comes to this place, thrice a week on his way home.
Like other organised places, Kiteetikka has its ethic. Should one of the proprietors bring other types of meat, he gets dismissed by his counterparts.
“Goat’s meat is our identity,” Paddy Twesigye, one of the proprietors, explains.
Hassan Bukenya, another proprietor who has plied the trade for close to two years, says: “We receive customers from all over Kampala and as far as Entebbe, though most of our clients live along Gayaza Road.”
The place has more than 10 proprietors with each manning a particular part of the venue. They normally meet whenever issues arise. Although it operates from 9am to 1am, Monday to Sunday, business booms at night.
6pm-8pm
At this time, you are welcomed by a fleet of cars parked on the roadside adjacent to the barbecue stoves. Clients moving out of their cars and dashing to their favourite seller to place their orders. While some come in, others are leave with takeaways, and the rest seat eating goat’s meat. Everyone is in a hurry to place an order.
You might need to place an order for them to roast for you. You hear a multitude of voices placing orders, “one kilogramme”, “two kilogrammes” and “a half a kilogramme”. It’s not unusual for some orders to clash, so, the chopping master has to ask for clarification if he does not get the order right. There are even cases of customers confusing their orders. A client who has failed to spot his steak asks the chef: “Where’s mine?” The chef answers, as he turns it; “it’s here”. Then the customer again; it’s not that one! And the chef insists. Finally, the customer agrees; “Ok, I’m waiting.”
“This is the daily routine during rush hours of evening, from 6pm,” says Musa, the chef, commonly known as Musiramu. He has worked for Goodlife goat’s meat, one of the goat sellers for over six months.

At around 8pm
The spot is packed to capacity. Most of the customers are in a hurry to place their orders. The wait gives them time to have a chat. But this is not long before one is called to pick his package. At around 8.30pm, the crowd grows to about 120 people. Most of them look blistered and parched. You could tell they are straight from work. As soon as they move out of their cars, they scatter to different sellers, a sign that each of them has a favourite.
In front of the barbecue, cars also increase to about 50, a parked fleet similar to those at a luxurious wedding.
The chopping master has to increase his speed, as he cuts from the hanging meat, often swinging like a pendulum bob. The chefs, waiters and waitresses speed up too. Their work doubles since they have to many customers.
I stopped one of the waitresses called Sharon Tusiime. You could tell from her face she thought I was a customer, too, perhaps ready to place an order. I wasn’t. “I’m a journalist from Daily Monitor. I would like to have a chat with the proprietor,” I told her. “Ok,” she replied. “He’s there behind the stove,” she whispered.
The manager couldn’t be easily singled out, he was multi-tasking; receiving money from customers while turning the meat on fire to prevent it from getting burnt. Even my conversation with him became limited as he said: “let’s talk while I am working”. This hour was brutal. “No time wasting or else you lose customers since there are several proprietors on this spot” he says.
Impressive service
Chefs donned in white hats, white shirts with red patches and aprons with red stripes chopping, roasting and serving. Their magic is in how they handle and serve customers. Customers exhausted from work, and spending several hours in Kampala traffic jam, in a bid to get to the goat barbecue hangout in Kiteetikka.
At this stage, the music had also increased. However, this is mainly enjoyed by those who choose to eat from the spot, as those who order for take-away look too tired to listen to the music. Their eyes and mind seem more focused on the meat being roasted.
9-10pm
At 9pm, customer numbers start dwindling and meat too reduces on both fire and the hanging string. Nevertheless, the music continues playing. You could see more drinks going around the plastic tables covered under big umbrellas. At this point, most of customers who eat from the spot are in clusters, like a family. Earlier on, the common order was 1kg but now it’s more of 2kg. What was served with sliced tomatoes mixed with onions popularly known as kachumbari is now served with beer and sodas.

10.30 pm to midnight
Between 10:30pm to midnight, cars start reducing on the roadside as more people depart from the place heading to Gayaza side, perhaps to their homes. This is when chefs get time to relax in between orders. There are few customers making orders. What makes them busy this time is serving beer and soda. So, more drinks as opposed to meat.

Midnight to 1am:When it approaches midnight, few proprietors have meat on the stoves. Even one which was hanging on the string has been consumed. Fire slowly burns out. It is obvious that is almost closing time. People keep strolling out. Clients who walked in hungry and quiet are conversing with. This is when, chefs have to be vigilant or else clients escape without paying.

Business-wise
Twesigye, says their peak sales are on public holidays.
“On a good day, especially on public holidays, I slaughter more than 10 goats,” he says, while pulling juicy goat ribs off the fire. Twesigye who rents his working area at Shs200,000 per month, does not work alone. He works with 10 young men and women whom he pays Shs5,000 per day.
“I normally start at 9am and work up to 1am, sometimes 3am”, he says.
Although there is no standard earning per day, Twesigye who has been here longer than his counterparts, says though with a bit of reluctance that he earns about Shs100,000 net profit per day and Bukenya makes about Shs 50,000.
This means Twesigye earns over Shs3m in a month while his counterpart Bukenya makes over Shs1.2m in a month, a figure that is higher than what most Ugandan civil servants earn.
Of course the perfect business is like the perfect marriage. It never exists. So too, is the barbecue. Proprietors are not free from challenges. They say some clients become drunk and leave without paying while others turn unruly.
Owing to this, proprietors emphasise “order with cash” principle. But in an event where this is not observed, the chefs have to keep an eye on the clients they serve to avoid them from absconding. This has helped to avoid losses caused be customers who would otherwise escape without paying.

The barbecue
This charcoal-fired barbecue served on a wide tray has an undeniably satisfying aroma. A piece of meat with a layer of rendered fat on one side glazed in flavour. It is served with kachumbari. A customer has to wait for about 20 minutes for their order to come through.
A kilogramme of the delicacy costs Shs15,000. This is hardly affordable for most Ugandans. Most of the clients are relatively well off. Whereas some prefer takeaway, others eat from that place. Customers sit on plastic chairs in front of the stoves, which could be one way of monitoring their meat as it is being roasted. Adjacent to the stoves, are small shops, which are also owned by the people who roast the meat. Also, there are home delivery services for people who live in the vicinity of Kittetika. While there, a client from Kasangati called and asked the manager to send him one kilogramme. Then the manager orders the man chopping: “James, give me one kilogramme.”