It was a marriage of both chaos and order.
Surviving in Kamapla: Few people ever survive the Kampala night life. It is addictive, it is like gambling, the more you stake, it escalates the commitment. You always think there is going to be that one final moment, where you say, enough is enough with the Kampala night life.
In Kampala, you live for the moment, as moments keep outdoing themselves. You quit, pause everything, and a friend (usually a one Muhimbo) shows up and says, ‘if you are retiring on the third floor, what will those on the fifth do?’ You thus come out of a limbo, and it all starts all over again. But if the revellers of Kampala night life had testimonies, the Koko Bar testimony would be another one.
Because it was not a bar, it was a world of its own. Imagine every good and bad about the world, imagine finding it all in one place. It was a marriage of both chaos and order, both highs and lows. You found everyone, from all walks of life. It was a marriage of hell and heaven, and that is what we came to know as Koko Bar. There was a rule, that it was impossible to do this place once, it took on some of its aura, and it took on some of yours. It was the one place where etiquette was defined as we all went along. But was there even space to define etiquette in Koko Bar?
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