Diary of a Broke Kampala Fashionista – Part 8

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, part 2 here, part 3 here , part 4 here, part 5, part 6 here and part 7 here.

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Thanks to Kato, I got the remaining things I needed to pack for the festival and even had some spending money left. Yay!! Well after going bargain shopping and got the remaining clothes (the black skirt, the off-shoulder bodysuit – I even found one that laced up at the front, and a pair of tan brown shorts and a matching meter of leather that I could cut up into a fringe cover up of sorts) and was ready to pack

• Spray bottle full of all the moistures my hair needs

I got everything into this cute leather duffel bag I found in a flea market for about 20k. I was ready and set to go. My small budget for the festival included essentials like food, cocktails and souvenirs. I had bought enough airtime to have data and calling airtime for the whole duration and not need to go to any shops.

Namara came for me in the morning of day 1 and I hopped into her car (okay it was her boyfriend’s car but whatever) and we took the 6-hour road trip to some far off district in Uganda. To make the journey worth it we were playing some 2000’s RnB throwbacks while throwing back some shots of Uganda Waragi.

She also had a pack of suspiciously green gummy bears that I took 30 minutes before we got there. When we reached, we checked into a hotel and first had a pizza before we headed for the madness. I was already seeing people’s Instagram stories on fire and wanted to be part of the flame. We decided to leave the car at the hotel and walk to the venue, since it was not so far off. I could feel the ground beneath me vibrate with the pulse of the music that was already going full swing over there.

I have never before seen so many people having so much fun, especially in a place far out of Kampala. Different backgrounds, different looks, and vibes. Many were moving in groups, some herds, and a number of lone revellers. This was my kind of party, and I was determined to use up all 3 days of it.

As I moved though, I realized music was different in different spots of the event, and I could rest at whatever one I wanted. Namara’s boyfriend met up with his other grown-but-going-through-a-midlife-crisis , never-want-to-accept-their-age, single-but-ring-finger-was-stamped friends, and they proceeded to set up shop at one of the stages playing dance hall music and cracked open a bottle of Hennessy (someone pass me my eyes, they rolled under the couch over there).

Anyway that meant two main things. 1: Namara and I could have our own fun and explore the place. 2: We had a base to find someone who could haul us to a safe bed, or even hide, in case we came across a creep…

We did a quick tour to grab our coordinates right and ended up splitting up when some overly tattooed Asian guy came over and wanted to talk to Namara, I signaled her to call me if she needed me, left them flirting and continued on my own journey.

I came across a stall where these two ladies were doing cool tribal face paint. Seeing as I had chosen to wear the fringe shorts and a Kitenge bra top for day one, lots of piled on jewelry; rings, a body chin, an anklet, and 2 large hoops in each ear, tiny baby hoops in the rest of the holes, yep, this would go PERFECTLY!!!

I sat myself down and described how mystical I wanted to look and waited for magic to happen on my face. It was also for the reason that in case I was shitfaced drunk and passed out on the floor, no one I knew prior would recognize me. Guys I’m too smart. The brushstrokes felt like a tiny dog was licking my face, but with a pattern. I almost slept. On my way back from the mystical painting, I found a group of guys with huge traditional drums and they were making some hard beats.

A girl who looked Indian covered in body piercings and wearing a lovely sheer purple two piece, was dancing in front of these drummers. I said “You know what? Why not? Who knows me here? So I joined in.

I think that’s where the gummy’s kicked in…

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Look out for part 9

Cover photo by William Stitt on Unsplash

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