Benjamin Rukwengye
Everyone knows a village drunkard who life beat up so much that all they live for is the next sachet of waragi. He never has money for anything because he can barely put in a few hours of work to earn a living. Everyone knows that when his time to die comes, the death will most likely be alcohol-related.
I am not sure where the name came from but ours used to be called “Kingdom”. A few weeks ago, together with a couple of friends, we talked about people who show up in bars every other time but nobody seems to remember ever seeing them pull out their wallets when the bill comes.
Later when I revisited that conversation, I thought about Kingdom. It was hard to explain why he drank – so much – but I guess that is how he coped with whatever curveballs life had thrown at him. But then I thought about the guys that we were talking about and they didn’t quite fit the profile. They are university-educated, hang out in high-end bars, and are sometimes on Twitter and Instagram giving opinions and living it up.
On the outside, they look like they are on their way up. So, what explains, not their drinking, but their insistence on living a life they cannot afford? It is a staple of Kampala’s nightlife, captured in a song released by Kindandali musician a couple of years ago, called G Snake. In the song titled, “Kampala Anyuma Kiro” she wonders where all the money that is on display in Kampala’s bars at night comes from, when during the day, all you hear from everyone is how there is no money.
It is a mystery for many people how Uganda’s duo economy works. You could starve all day because you can’t raise enough for a Rolex, yet find yourself on a table at Bandali, in Kololo, or wherever, popping bottles. Understanding Uganda’s night economy gets even more intriguing when you hear that Eritrean businessmen are now increasingly becoming the biggest investors in the bar business.
But last week, Financial Sector Deepening Uganda might have, inadvertently, explained. It released a report with some eye-popping survey results. Apparently, out of the 24 million adult Ugandans (16 and above), 17.2 million spend more than they earn. To make up for the deficit, they borrow from whoever can lend them.
So, basically, it is possible that in a bar with 200 revelers, only 10 percentare picking the tab. And the next day, the tables might be changed, moving yesterday’s sponsor to the 90 percent while upgrading another to the 10 percent. Which is an interesting outlook on what defines urban and young Uganda.
There is pressure on everyone to make ends meet. The city is as crammed and constricting as the economy. There is barely any wiggle room or even spaces for people to cool off. No green spaces. No walking tracks. No salaries. No breathing spaces. So, when things don’t work out, as is wont to happen more often than not, bars are the go-to therapy spaces because the actual therapists are the preserve of only the 0.1 percent.
And that is why Uganda is nursing a drinking problem. Where there is little hope for many – as is the situation, we are creating – alcohol becomes a refuge. But also, another drug – religion – and those who sell it become the alternative. Its users get consumed by it in a different but similar way. Having logical conversations with either group usually doesn’t feel that much different.
If you are the betting type, you can place your money on those two “economies” growing exponentially over the next decade – even if this won’t be reflected in other sectors. You can add motivational speakers to the curve as well. It is the most likely outcome for a country where 90 percent of adults have to borrow to get by. You can also invest there if that is your thing.
In instances like ours, where there is little hope for many, the two extremes become the basis of survival and coping.
For young people who have to deal with the pressures of social media likes and the validation that comes with it, and the politicians who need their votes to feast on their taxes, the hands go up at Bandali on Saturday night and stay there for praise and worship on Sunday morning.
Mr Rukwengye is the founder, Boundless Minds. @Rukwengye
