Diary of a Broke Kampala Fashionista is a new series on Satisfashion UG. Kampala born Kirabo has a knack for fashion and in another life, she was born in New York City. She dreams of going there but is too broke to even live alone. She lives with her elder sister Mutesi, who treats her like a child because she spends and acts like one. The weekly struggles are all (unintentionally) fashion related. She narrates her story of trying to realize her dreams while sliding in tips of how she gets by looking like a million bucks on a very slim wallet. She interns at a law firm in Kampala.
See part 1 here and part 2 here.
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There’s that quiet blissful moment in the morning where you wake up and don’t remember any of your problems. Then almost immediately the brain system loads and you’re groaning at your life and the thing called responsibilities. Like, do I really have to go to work today? Do I have to run those errands for Mutesi? Even if I stay here, I’ll be transformed into housemaid extravaganza, I’d rather sit in a boring dusty old office in dignity than bend my tired self in manual labour.
I miss those first 5 seconds of the morning. I wish there was a way to make it semi-permanent. Is that what ‘vacation’ feels like? I pick up my phone and scroll down my Instagram and look at vacation spots and the pretty girls who seem to be the only ones invited to these vacation spots. They’re as young as I am, younger even. Don’t they have responsibilities? Are they all funded by their parents? Who takes these HD photos they post? Or these girls are all from like, super-rich families.
I scrolled until I was jealous enough to get out of bed and try to do something with my life. Wow, I can’t even say that I’m going to make money. To make the moment worse I looked in the mirror and I seem to have added a few inches on my sides, so I’m fatter than those vacation girls, by looks and wallet size.
Wonderful. I ran out of the house in a brown bodycon dress and some old heels. I had to add a plaid jacket to hide the side rolls, but it had a sheer panel down the sides which made it made it look cool.
The rest of the workday droned on until I heard a notification sound on my phone, only to see Akello’s name pop up. She was wondering if I was available to go out for drinks. Finally, something to do that didn’t make me want to rip my eyelashes out!
Akello is a breath of fresh air in my life, she is a slim girl who is almost as tall as I am. She wears these thin round wired glasses which make her look intelligent. Far more, in fact, she isn’t much of a dresser, usually wears greys and blacks. I’m dying to get her into a bright blue floral dress, I think she’d look amazing. I have never seen her hair; it’s always roped into some long box braids, and she has one lipstick shade, a deep maroon.
Despite all this, she and I have had some amazing conversations, she is a mad creative, with a great listening ear. Matter of fact, if you ever want to know my secrets ask her. But then again she won’t tell you. Someone has tried before. Isn’t she amazing?
I replied in the affirmative and continued work with something to look forward to. Before closing hours, I looked down at my heels and cringed. I had worn the ones that had leather peelings at the back of the heel. Wow, I couldn’t even change them, home is too far away from the lounge we are meeting at. So I take them off and take a good look…
Since I only had office supplies around me but had to make it work somehow, I started peeling the leather layer off until it was all clear and only the white fuzzy layer beneath was visible. So I grabbed a black marker and stained the white section until it looked like the rest of the shoe. I sealed the bottom with some clear cello tape and it was good to go!
Akello was already waiting for me with a glass of red wine when I arrived. She’s always on time, jeez. I ordered my combination of Uganda Waragi and Coke, and we got to catch up.
“What is it about these Instagram girls that has you so perturbed?” she asked
“Well, they are all year round having a great time and seem not to have responsibilities.”
I then explained to her that many of them blog about their ‘exciting lives’ for money, while I’m here struggling to get a four-year degree and no cash in hand or on my account. Akello had to put me back into reality mode asap:
“You realize they only post about their blissful moments, right? Kirabo, no one is going to go like oh here’s my eviction notice from the apartment, lol, #hard times, #broke af”
She had a point, but my disgruntlement came from the fact that we have this whole system that has us sticking to about 24 years of education, where only about 3-5 of them (if you’re lucky) have to do with what you actually want to do. She went on to give me examples of countries where they have systems where education is talent based or even more specialized, mixing MathS and English in there for the child’s benefit.
But in comparison with here where I was doing a course that was simply suitable to get a job, to save up money to go to another country to actually study and do what you want to.
“What do you want to do, Kirabo?” she asked me.
I have never shared my dreams with anyone, as they seem silly in my head and unattainable.
“I want to be a fashion curator for a magazine, I know, it’s silly”
She looked at me intently, not changing her facial expression. I couldn’t tell what was going on in her mind. Was she judging me?
“That’s amazing, why do you think it’s silly? Look at you, look at me, we are both wearing clothes. Look around, is anyone here naked? (There was a girl who seemed a little naked, but she had a hint of clothing on and seemed okay, so no I guess) These clothes are all talked about and advertised in those magazines, of which I know you are an avid reader. Your dreams are valid; you should have followed them from the start. You don’t have to be led by the system, lead the system yourself.”
She was right, to an extent. She didn’t know the kind of struggle I’m dealing with, I had to do this the way I knew how. But expressing my true desires to Akello lit a tiny fire inside me…
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Look out for part 4 next week
Cover photo by William Stitt on Unsplash
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