By Melvin Moses Kiyimba
There was a time when Uganda’s social fabric was held together by communal spaces.
In villages, men and women gathered under the shade of big trees to exchange stories, debate politics, or simply share the day’s burdens.
In urban centers, community halls were filled with activity.
Dance groups rehearsed, youth played board games, and elders mentored the next generation.
Even in neighborhoods, people sat outside their homes in the evening, chatting as children played nearby.
These were the places where people met to bond, share resources, and form relationships, where you could truly feel the pulse of the community.
But over the last forty years, many of these spaces have disappeared.
Kampala, once a city with open grounds where families could picnic and children could run free, has been swallowed by rapid urbanization.
Open spaces have been fenced off, turned into private developments, or converted into parking lots.
City Square, where people once gathered to rest and reflect, is now heavily policed, making it difficult for people to linger.
Nsambya Sharing Hall, which used to host community gatherings and affordable events, has become less accessible due to rising rental fees.
The National Theatre, once a hub for artists and intellectuals, has had much of its open space repurposed for commercial use.
The National Library remains underfunded and underutilized, despite the potential it has to serve as a meeting point for knowledge seekers.
Even the Railway Grounds, where people once gathered freely, is now fenced off with restricted access.
As urbanization has accelerated, the focus has been on development rather than social spaces.
A football pitch is no longer just a football pitch. It is potential land for commercial buildings.
A community center is seen less as a gathering place and more as real estate waiting for investment.
With so much emphasis on economic growth, there has been little attention paid to the need for places where people can meet without the pressure to spend money.
Religious institutions could have been the next best replacement, offering guidance and support.
However, they have alienated themselves from young people through their political leanings and intolerance, further distancing themselves from the communities that could have benefited from their presence.
In a society where religion holds significant sway, this failure to connect with youth and broader society on social levels has further diminished any chance of religious institutions becoming the replacements for third spaces.
This has made cities feel more crowded yet more isolating.
The roads are full, the markets are noisy, and buildings are going up everywhere, but there are fewer places where people can simply exist together.
And while much of this shift is driven by economic priorities, it is also convenient for those in power.
A population without places to gather is a population that cannot easily organize itself.
A city where people only meet in bars is a city where deep conversations and collective action become more difficult.
I’m no stranger to the vibrant life of Uganda’s entertainment scene.
I personally enjoy going out, and some of my own business ventures are within the entertainment space. Bars and lounges are fun, lively places where you can unwind, network, or catch up with friends.
They have become, to a certain extent, the default social spaces in Uganda.
But it is also impossible to ignore the drawbacks of this shift. With the disappearance of third spaces, bars have taken on the role of social glue in Uganda.
Today, if you want to meet an old friend, network for business, or hold an informal meeting, a drinking spot is often the easiest choice.
The growth of bars across Uganda reflects this reality. From lounges in Kololo to roadside kiosks in Mbarara, drinking has become the default way to spend time with others.
Take Kampala’s streets at sunset. By early evening, bars are filling up.
Young professionals, exhausted from long hours in offices with little social interaction, gather over drinks to unwind.
Mechanics from Katwe, who once sat outside their shops in animated conversation, now relax with bottles of spirits before heading home.
University students, who in another era might have spent evenings in debate clubs or attending poetry nights, now pregame for clubbing with cheap gin sachets.
In the countryside, the shift is just as visible. Trading centers that once had communal spaces for elders to sit and discuss local affairs now have bars as their main attractions.
The culture of slowly drinking waragi all day has taken root, not just out of preference but because there are few other places to spend time.
Even spaces that could serve as alternatives like restaurants, cafés, and eateries are not exempt.
In Uganda, almost every restaurant also functions as a bar.
Whether you are having a meal at a roadside joint in Ntinda or a high-end restaurant in Lugogo, alcohol is always an option.
A place that could have been a quiet setting for casual conversation often turns into a drinking spot as the evening progresses.
This is not simply about alcohol becoming more popular.
It is about the fact that drinking spaces are among the few places left where people can be together without being told to move along.
As third spaces have disappeared, another cultural shift has made bars even more central to social life.
The rise of individualism, influenced by capitalism, has changed the way people relate to each other.
In the past, communal bonds were strong, and people relied on each other for emotional and social support.
Today, personal success and financial independence are prioritized, and many believe that they do not owe anyone anything beyond their immediate obligations.
This shift has influenced how people choose to interact.
Building deep, long-term relationships takes time, effort, and emotional vulnerability.
But bars offer a convenient and flexible way to socialize without requiring deep emotional investment.
A drink at a bar does not come with the expectations of community.
You sit, you drink, you chat, and you leave. There is no obligation to check in later or to be part of something larger.
Unlike traditional third spaces where conversations required engagement and depth, bars allow for surface-level interactions.
You can share a laugh with a stranger and never see them again. Drinking culture fits well with modern social dynamics.
A bar is a place where people can be together without the pressures that come with deeper connections.
It is not surprising that bars have become the dominant social space in Uganda.
They provide a break from work, an escape from stress, and a place where people can be themselves without expectations.
At the same time, there is a cost. Alcohol consumption in Uganda is among the highest in Africa.
Many people drink not just for pleasure but because there are so few other ways to spend time with others.
And while bars are valuable social spaces, they are not designed for reflection, creativity, or sustained community building.
The decline of third spaces was not inevitable. Other countries facing urbanization have taken steps to preserve them.
In Rwanda, the government has invested in public parks and community centers where people can gather for free.
In Kenya, Uhuru Park remains a public space where people can sit, talk, and relax without being asked to leave.
Uganda still has an opportunity to reverse this trend.
It will require urban planners and policymakers to prioritize public spaces, developers to integrate gathering places into their projects, and communities to reclaim spaces that have been lost.
Whether it is revitalizing cultural centers, enforcing laws that protect public land, or supporting alcohol-free social events, there are many ways to create alternatives to bar culture.
Because a society that only meets in bars is a society that loses something important.
Until we find new spaces to connect, if you want to catch up with someone in Uganda, the most likely suggestion will be, “Tusimbule?” (Shall we grab a drink?) Not because drinking is the only option, but because, for now, it is the only space left.