The end of my love affair with Bubbles O’ Leary’s


typical of most Mzungu (white people) establishments around Uganda. They depend on cheap Ugandan loyal labor, and happy spending pockets to build empires, save themselves from pauper life in their countries of origin, living in a shoebox, escaping the Irish potato famine, have failed to afford rent in a shoebox in “crawfordshire”, and now building an empire off disrespecting Ugandans with cash.

The same goes with Soho, Cayenne, MishMash, Mediterrano….if you are going in black and no white…chances are…you’re gonna get fcuked front and behind….Or they’ll make sure to indicate to you that, you are “a slave to the white” you are with….

When 8.00 pm found me in the area code, I decided to pass by Bubbles O’ Leary’s and have a peek. There were about two females and two male guards at the entrance. As I was about to open my bag for them to check it, one male guard snapped at me:

“Gwe Nyabo! Oyagala chi?” (You woman! What do you want?)

Astounded, I simply stared at him.

“I’m asking you! Who do you know inside there?” he growled, in Luganda.

“Why are you talking to me like this?” I asked him quietly.

His demeanor grew in hostility. The source of the contempt on his face was a mystery to me. I stared a little bit harder.

“Me, I’m asking you, who do you know inside there? What do you want?!” he said again, in Luganda.

I wondered why he wasn’t speaking to me in English. Why he was…

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