You know that point at the wedding reception, around six pm, when the beer has optimised itself in your head, the kids are running around ruining their expensive clothes in the grass, the relatives are telling funny stories about the old days and the whole situation is just niiiiice? That one. When you feel nothing but love and happiness?
I was at The Roots over the weekend. And I got onto my whatsapp family group and said, “One of y’all needs to marry someone soon. Especially you cohabiting niggas. Get married. Twagala mbaga.”
That is the atmosphere of the place. It is laid out over these bright green lawns, with a butterfly there somewhere and neat, comfortable plants. Plus the speaker was playing killer 90’s R&B. The only thing that would make this experience more ideal would be a wedding taking place in the background.
Roots Restaurant. Nakasero. You go as if the hospital but you don’t reach there. You stop first and enter Roots.
The moment I got there Flavia, who has perfect lipstick, told me oba to use a different table because the sun was going to come for me. You know how it does. Especially at around five pm. I had not even ordered yet and you guys are already taking care of me. Well done.
I actually thought she was going to kneel at some point. There was something very kiganda in the way she sheperded me to a better-shaded table.
Speciality is health. So you get local foods, steamed and grilled. Not junk. They served Rita and I in endagala. Goat and Chicken stews.
It was filling bulungi and soon I was back in that mode of weddings because I had been afflicted with what the doctors call post-prandial depression. PPD is feeling when you have eaten so well that you become useless to the world. Your head does not want to think and your body wants to do even less. Rita had somewhere to be at six. I told her to leave me and go. I’ll be fine. She will find me here next time.
I have put the Roots down on my map. It is perfect for just Sunday evening with calm, sweet conversation, beer, and nyama choma. They do nyamchoms. And the maitre ‘d, a man called Paul, says he can tell just by looking at you whether you speak Swahili or not.
Jagged Edge, Mariah Carey (I don’t wanna cry), Luther, Whitney, and the man pulled out a rare favourite of mine. It’s called Rush Over by Marcus Miller and Me’shell Ndege Ocello. You must hear that song. In fact, here is a youtube link. Listen to this. Now you want someone to make love to, don’t you. Leave these immoral one-night hookups of yours. You want to make looooove, right?
I have already told you. Green and relaxing and outdoorsy and pretty. And there is a butterfly fluttering around. I wonder if butterflys are edible.
Here is the link to the facebook account. Because that is what you need first.