The devil take elitism

There is that time of the month in between the 23rd and pay day, when even your wallet doesn’t wan’t to know how it’s going to last the week. 

I have discovered where I want to take my wallet and I in that turbulent period.

I was in a somewhat dubious area out of town (allow me to keep this secret to myself!), waiting to meet an equally dubious person. I decided to enter a shady looking bar by the roadside.

For a Kafunda, these guys took their security seriously. The female guard almost lost her arms inside my bag as she rummaged through. I thought about protesting but when I looked at the place again, and the look of the people inside, I decided it was all for my own good.

I entered through and headed to the bar. Drunkards were sprawled across it, and one kept trying to fondle me as I spoke with the waitress.

“How much is your Guinness?” I asked, my hands brushing away the straying hands of the drunkard.

“3,500” she said. I paused for a second.

“Eh?” I tried not to sound excited. “3,500, eh?”

“Yes” she said impatiently.

Kampala and their 6k. Where have you been all my life, you dubious bar?!

My drunkard had gotten tired and gone back to sleep. I sat in a corner and waited for my appointment. For a good hour and a half. Many a woman would have been annoyed no end, and walked out in a huff. Not me.

I was simply amazed that I had sat in that bar, prominently alone for that long and no one was looking at me askance. 

I couldn’t help but think about how a lone woman is regarded sitting alone in an ‘elite’ drinking establishment. You’re asking to be noticed, and likely to be regarded with pity, suspicion and judgment. Here? I saw at least three other women, sitting at tables alone, having a high old time.

No one gave a d. 

I sat alone-and enjoyed sitting alone-once I realized that in this dubious bar-the kind women like me sneer at on the outside-I was not going to be disturbed or judged on the inside.

Makes you think, doesn’t it? 

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