The end of my love affair with Bubbles O’ Leary’s

Management always reserves the right of admission.

Hater with Humour

When 8.00 pm found me in the area code, I decided to pass by Bubbles O’ Leary’s and have a peek. There were about two females and two male guards at the entrance. As I was about to open my bag for them to check it, one male guard snapped at me:

“Gwe Nyabo! Oyagala chi?” (You woman! What do you want?)

Astounded, I simply stared at him.

“I’m asking you! Who do you know inside there?” he growled, in Luganda.

“Why are you talking to me like this?” I asked him quietly.

His demeanor grew in hostility. The source of the contempt on his face was a mystery to me. I stared a little bit harder.

“Me, I’m asking you, who do you know inside there? What do you want?!” he said again, in Luganda.

I wondered why he wasn’t speaking to me in English. Why he was…

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