memorable dispatch

It ain't all that funny, deciding after half-a-day in the room, doing nought but contemplating, to stroll out and stretch my muscles, rather, strain my muscles (with a friend). Down the lane. Past Wandegeya. Past CMI (Chief Military Intelligence) headquarters. CMI can be equated to the infamous Nyayo House during the Nyayo era in Kenya.
The streets are dimly lit, in neon street lights scattered here and there.
On a bodaboda (the almost nuisanceous motor cycles Kampala is notable with), straight to Uchumi supermarket, located right within the Palatial and Princely setting of Garden City. Nelly, a friend and media colleaque, confided to me the place where Garden City stands was once a swamp, gazzetted as a no-go-zone for any developer. But, the utmost authority in the powers-that-be, having vested interest in the wetland, put up the princely hotel cum shopping mall, an addition to their innumerous investments.
The wetland is strategically located, bordering the city centre, just across the main asphalt road, where a high school once stood. It was demolished and word had it that it was to be sold to a Saudi Prince at a cost of ush.300M. (The government has a policy, since it assumed power more than two decades ago) of attracting investors). The Saudi Prince would build a five star hotel to host the CHOGM (Commonwealth Heads of State and Government Meeting) delegates. However, the hotel was never constructed. Media reports (with the exception of the government media) revealed scandulous consignments that surrounded the land.
Just a thought.
Back to Garden City. Into Uchumi supermarket. Nelly had hoped to buy wine only. He needed it badly, a reason for our nocturnal venture to the supermarket where he confided to me he often got the good wine at better rates. But, all brands are too expensive for an ordinary bloke to afford. Food prices having skyrocketed globally, should be no excuse for the dear price of wine. Is wine food? Why is it too expensive, but with limited quantity? Oil prices are at their peak. What of wine? It ain't supposed to be as exorbitantly priced as we noticed at the supermarket.
Any how, he goes ahead to purchase several other stuff, after sorting out a relatively cheaper brand of wine. I get juice and blue band, which he pays for (a very generous chap I ever met).
It's quarter to ten. We walk to a restaurant for drinks. After we are done with fanta and coke, the former, which I prefer, we walk out. At the entrance, as we stroll out, we spot a journalist who works for a leading media house. 'Ebazanye,' Nelly reminds me. I saw him in the past, and I've seen him often at his desk at The New Vision. "He has brought his chick here for fun," Nelly and I conclude as we ooze out of the cozy palatial supermarket and the entire Garden City.
The venue is fantabulous.
Just a memory.