The year was 1990. I was a young gentleman who had started to get intrigued by attending discos. I happened to be staying in Nakawa, a suburb in Kampala. It was the night of the 30th November. I sneaked out with some friends and headed to the Nakawa College of Commerce (U.C.C) where there was a hot disco in progress! Students were having a party of their lives. We gate crushed the disco and went straight to the dancing floor!
The night was on fire with waves from SEGGICO music systems. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that the next day was 1st December – World Aids Day. They just constantly stamped their feet on the floor with frenzy and excitement.
Lights were everywhere. Blue, yellow, red – you name it. Rays flashed across the walls, down to the floor back up to the ceiling. The dining hall was full to capacity. The dust rose and settled. The music volume increased and decreased. There was waltz and slows. Reggae and funk. This time it was not DJ Charlie. It was that fella with a boring monotonous voice. When he played the discs, he screamed. When the dancers cursed out loud in protest, the DJ put full volume. And when he played Chaka Chaka and Kwasa Kwasa, the crowds grew wild.
With time the trend sided to a slow motion. Lights snapped off at a time. Rap music gradually rapped off. Boom-Bang-boom gave way to slows. Michael Bolton and Mariah Carey dominated. Pairs measured each others levels. Waragi levels went to the left. Beer levels went to the right. A boundary was created. Dividing the hall for the poor on one side and the rich on the other side.
At this moment, a fine looking guy was paving way to win one pretty girl’s soul. The guy was in baggy trousers and a Mr. Dior shirt. He put on a rope like tie and combed his hair in a back bush style. His black shoes were shining bright in the night. In short he was cool. The lady in question was extremely smart. She put on high heeled shoes. She was in a yellow V shaped blouse. Silk. A tight black skirt with 4 slits.
Her ears were dangling with jewels and her hair touched her shoulders. She too was cool.
The guy had borrowed a money purse which was quite heavy. He was sure that he was the star of the occasion. He meant to get the most expensive girl at this party. He hesitated a little as he polished up his plans. Then with well calculated steps, he glided across to where his prey sat. With one hand in his pocket, he boldly stretched out the other. Already a couple of hands had joined in the competition. When the guy smiled and winked, the girl had no choice, She stood upright, wiped herself and let her partner guide her to the floor.
Next was a couple of drinks. Introductions were made and friendships established. The guy made sure he gave beers while he secretly poured Uganda Waragi contents in his own bottle. As resources were getting depleted, he had to adjust his steps. The steps taken thereafter had a slightly different direction. This time the guy bought more of chewing gum than his cigarettes and concentrated on the floor. Other pairs were busy tanking more and more and the crates indeed were still in plenty.
By the end of the fifth round of dancing, the sweetness in the chewing gum had faded. Instead, the jaws were beginning to ache. Our guy was dry and high. He intended to stay with the girl but the latter had wiser ideas. It was plain clear that pastures were still many. She had plenty to graze on elsewhere. When the guy excused himself a bit, the girl grabbed her chance and like an eagle, hooked one of the guys who had less charming girls at the counter. When she cooed, the fat man turned around and embraced this stranger.
In seconds, they were on the floor. The music was slow and the floor was left for pairs only – save for our friend who was running up and down in search of his chick. What he saw made him perplexed