Review: Holy Crepe, Kololo, The Air Up There

Tuli mu ddiro again. This time a place called Holy Crepe that is located, like an eagle’s aviary, a dizzying height above your small and petty Multiplex parking problems, up here where you can see everybody suffering.

If there was anybody suffering to see. This is Kololo, deep in the hills. And a) The human population is too rich to be out in the streets. They are all either out at work, teeming through Kisementi or inside their mansions with the wifi and the plasma screens showing netflix. b) the human population is too rich to suffer.


The view from up here is amazing. I can see Namboole stadium from one eye, then, a slight twitch of the neck and behold, the Bahai temple is right there. I can see so much Kampala from this stunning view that My Hot Date (MHD)  whatsapped me to say “I am on the way. In Bukoto” and I could honestly sincerely answer “Yeah. I know. I can see you.”

Well, one of those white bucars was hers. Must have been.

The view from here is so stunning that that alone would be worth the trip. If Holy Crepe was furnished with nothing but mikeeka and napkin holders that would be fine.

As it is it is furnished with chairs, please, don’t worry your bourgie fat ass. There are tall chairs around small tables those ends, and a lounging sofa these ends.



What is a Crepe, you ask, because you are not acquainted with crepes of any sort, neither holy nor profane, and you need guidance on the subject.

I will tell you after I wax on about the coffee.


I was already crushing on the establishment when I got there– the view I thought only Superman ever gets to enjoy– but I knew if they have the right coffee I would fall in love.

They had the right coffee. I don’t grade coffee just by taste, aroma, richness and texture. I also count power.

And this shit right here?

This shit right here?

It’s def, nigga.

So here we are, coffee that hits the spot, a cosy seat in a nice restaurant and a view that reminds me of all the love I have for Kampala and makes me instantly forget how sick of your shit I so often get, and MHD is not here yet. When she gets here and does her magic where she just makes places be even nicer with her mere presence it will be some other form of level of situations.

So MHD arrives and we eat Crepes.


A crepe is a french pancake that is served with various different toppings and flavourings and ebigenderako and machati and styles and fashions and collabos. A crepe is like a dancehall riddim. It can be used in many ways.

Holy Crepe serves all the dancehall inna di area. The menu is full of diverse sorts and kinds.

I had mine with chocolate and vanilla ice cream, and milady had hers with cheese and ham and vegetables. Refer to the pictures for elaboration.


Now me as me, I liked the ice cream. The crepe was just a chapu to me. I guess you have to be frencher to get it. The milk shakes were fat and filling and fit, though.

It is a nice place to go and relax yourself though. Go to it.


Here is the facebook page.