Aah...yesterday [Thursday] was Bloggers’ Happy Hour [if that is what BHH stands for] and it was my first time at the over-hyped event ‘blogwise’. The venue was changed from the usual Mateo’s [or is it Mateos?] to Effendys, a Turkish restaurant, at Centenary Park, which is much further down the road.
For me and the rest of the newbies [as we were later branded] plus the Country Boi, a veteran in UG blogging circles, this was convenient as we were using Kampala’s notoriously time-wasting public transport—the kamunyes. Between switching kamunyes, we were, however, able to make it within 45 minutes from Makerere.
Good enough, a sizable number of the bloggers, as I think we like to be called, were seated conspicuously near a rather rowdy group—it was fairly easy to spot them. So, we made a beeline for where they were. After a round of hellos, we are made to feel comfortable....and at home, as we recognised familiar faces. As I pulled my notebook to jot down blog addresses, there was this guy who kept objecting to my use of pen and paper. I told him not to worry about it but this didn’t seem to ‘allay his fears’. He kept on and on and on and on....damn! It is only when I told him that before he learnt to blog, he had to go through the pen-and-paper routine....that seemed to ‘satisfy’ him and he didn’t bother me again.
At the time we sat at the table, there is a discussion about a cat....and this same guy kept asking me if I could adopt a cat....Man, what was up with this guy?!! May be he was having a bad hair day [whatever that means...I thought it was only women who suffered that].
Amidst the settling in and breaking the ice, I was beginning to wonder about how this goes down. What is the objective of this gathering? [hmmm...quite heavy] Is there are an agenda? [a hang up from the meetings I attended frequently at my former place of work] An opening prayer? [as any kind of meeting does in UG]. I also recalled the Country Boi’s passionate argument about making the bloggers’ association [not in the formal sense] meaningful and more focused towards issues of common interest....to make BHH more than just a meet-eat-and-drink affair. Now, he was hiding from the light, under his cap that he kept on throughout...this reminded of certain politicians, especially the ones who represent the youth in Parliament....he had gone ‘political’ on us.
Anyway, the convener, a very good-looking lady [yes, indeed...face and body...and mind, as I discovered later when talking to her], announced that we were shifting to another part of the restaurant where we would have more space to interact. And interact, we did....I got to jot down more blog addresses....including Mr. Bad Hair Day’s [ha..ha, this time he was calm] and many of the ladies. There were more ladies than guys...to me, this is a good thing. Some of the guys get to have competing attention, which is not my reason but it can boost the ‘feel good’ factor. When women are involved actively in something, especially in Africa, apart from marriage and babies, it is a good sign that they are taking advantage of the opportunities available. At Makerere University, for instance, they constitute almost half of the student population...[enough of my justification].
More on the ladies....some of them were proud and didn’t mix with the newbies [despite one being a classmate and even shared coursework at varsity....yeah, I remember her bright red shoes and blouse]. Another was so ladylike, that she had a guy come in and cut up the chicken that she ordered into smaller pieces for her to chew. Talking of ladylike (sic), one adhered to the Victorian principle of sit, do nothing, say nothing and twiddle your fingers as you wait for further instructions. The instructions indeed came when it was time to go....she had said completely nothing...maybe she didn’t want her voice to compete with the din in the place.
More drama was to follow when most of the bloggers had left. Me and the Country Boyi were caught up in creative accounting by the waiter, who served us, that left us with less change than we were supposed to have. All kind of reasons and explanations were given; VAT [value-added tax] is charged on drinks, individual payment of bills yet we are in a group confused the waiter, ad nauseaum. After waiting for an hour for the mess to be sorted, I was left with less money while CB hadn’t got his money at all.
We went to the counter where there was the cashier and ‘head waiter’ to help sort the issue. This was to involve another 30 minutes of useless, baseless arguments and counter-arguments. The waiter had clearly made a mistake when he didn’t collect VAT from some of the people in our group...for instance, he didn’t ask from Tom whom we came with. He had ordered something to eat and two beers.
At the counter, we were dutifully informed by the cashier that VAT is charged on eats not drinks...yet the waiter had told me that I had to pay VAT on the soda and beer I had drunk! The hullabaloo attracted attention of other waiters [as if there was no work for them to do]. Eventually, the manager was called in and another round of explanations and arguments ensued....the Turk man was going to suffer a loss, a waiter who was stammering a case and laying blame on us and the other bloggers, and the main issue begging for a resolution.
Eventually, the manager signed off a payment of what was due to us and we set off to our respective abodes. He mumbled a threat that next time, for the group [I think the bloggers], it will be C.O.D—Cash on Delivery.
If BHH this month is at Effendys, stand warned.
