With the tearing down of the Plaza bar on Jinja road a part of my life definitely ended. I’m silly like that. A bar can come to mean that much to me. There was (and still is) City Springs across the road but what was City Springs without Plaza bar? So I never went back there either.
You see Plaza bar was not just a bar. Not for me at least. I first came into Plaza bar in 2002, a Saturday afternoon, just after four. I was on the run. Study my bar entrances if you ever have the chance. No one saunters more coolly into a bar than I do. From my nonchalant entrance no one could have guessed a girl with literal fang incisors was after me.
With job hopes clanging after my weary feet like weights, I had not seen her until it was too late chatting with a friend in front of a boutique on Plaza house, Jinja road. Alright, alright so she was supposed to be my girlfriend. But that was come night hours after several beers. Not one of my friends knew about her. And now here she was, plump arms wide open for me with fangs obscuring her smile!
As experience had taught me, I met only one friend of hers and she was enough to later be responsible for me fleeing another girl’s room in Kikoni pursued by this Fang Fang. I have had some ugly girlfriends (and one day I’ll make a photo essay of them) but with Fang Fang even a warthog would have been outraged to be compared to her. So when she introduced me to her friend friesian Felister as her man, I was wilting as I tried not to show becoming Mr. Warthog was disgusting. In fair exchange I got a warm hug from juggy Felister that would have made me stay and chat had not Fangy winked suggestively at me. I did not want people to know we were doing such things! So I treaded on a reputation.
Quick thinking, I said that I had come to buy cigarettes for Ernest who was around the corner in a car. Yes, that Ernest. Would right away be back. No bat out of hell could have run for it as fast as I did when she let me out of her sight. I decided I would be going back to Plaza bar definitely when I remained hidden in one of their toilet cubicles for an hour without becoming nauseous for so clean were they. And because no one in that bar had been rugby football rude to rattle me out. My kind of people!
Plaza bar became a Saturday tradition for me. undo.blogspirit.com understands why that balcony facing the railway headquarters meant so much to me. It was not until Plaza bar that a Larkinesque mad genius won me over to some points of view. Plaza was the bar on a Friday evening where I first sat down to take in the enormity of purchasing my first mobile phone staring this green gleaming face wonder rapt before I sent out my first incomprehensible SMSes. In Plaza bar watching her eat pork, I fell out of love with M after three years of storming an impregnable fortress and she fell in love with me but what could we do, she’s lesbian. Feeling out of place in teenies hub DV.8, with a friend we took Plaza bar as a last resort and totally by chance watched our first Obsessions show getting upclose and personal treatment because the crowd was small but passionate and I learned a new fragrance off a dancer who’ll remain nameless but the fragrance named, Razac. I left Plaza bar at 12:30AM on the last day when I knew for sure I would never be a Makerere University student again and I remember my mentor walking me from Plaza bar through the still center of Kampala, down tree crouching Kyagwe road, through ghostly Old Kampala talking less and less and communicating more and more until reaching me the gate of my parents’ house where when he tried to say bye a sob escaped from his throat. Before I came to work where I’m now, I came every day of the week before to Plaza bar and two days after Plaza bar closed down forever. I could never go back.
I have lost a lot of things in 2005 and I did not think I would ever love a bar again. But on Monday 7:49PM, I went into the Pub on Dewinton road and I fell instantly in love with the Pub. But you know this really should be back at jmataachi.blogspot.com.