The Flirt And Tease Party. Just the name gives you ideas. Makes you want to reach for your kinkiest costume, look around for some whips and chains and tackle an afande for some handcuffs. You also expect to be waylaid by a bust as soon as you walk into the venue. The bust of course would be followed closely by its owner. Is it ‘its owner’? ‘Her owner’? These things can be quite confusing.
Yes, the Flirt and Tease party. It’s an annual event that happens around Valentine’s day. People get to go to a snazzy Kampala nightspot, wear masks and flirt the night away, occasionally taking turns to go and tease the venue’s security guards. I googled to find out the origins of this thing.
According to Google, the event dates back to an age before clothes. The Afaka people, who lived in present-day Bweyogerere, had an annual feast at which village belles got to shake with abandon and males came to watch and giggle occasionally. Things were different back then. At one such occasion, Bunda, the village rogue, broke the tradition and approached a girl. He told her all sorts of things. Google was on site but was only able to capture his promises to maul a bear for her and to dig her entire garden on his own all his life. Of course Google didn’t specify what garden Bunda was speaking of. Though caned for his actions, Bunda set off a wild fire of guys-approaching-girls. And an annual event soon kicked off. That’s according to Google.
Fast forward several years, and last Saturday saw the annual Flirt and Tease Party doing its fourth run in Kampala. It went down at The Pyramids. If, like me, you have only heard about this place, no worries. Only filthy rich people go there. Yes. A few dollars have to fall as the guards frisk you. And you are not allowed to say “Lower, lower, looower…ah, that’s the spot” as the guard frisks you.
So Saturday, the Flirting and Teasing crowd showed up and got down. The party signature is a mask worn by revelers. The idea is to allow guys to get away with incessant giggling and to give girls permission to do back-flips without thinking twice about it. The party was star-studded. And phone numbers were heavily exchanged. All you had to do was stand in the middle of a group of smoking girls and hand your phone to them. I meant smoking hot girls. Yes, they’d pass it round, each entering her 12-digits. You’d then walk away self-high-fiving and go figure out who ‘Mashean’, ‘Mayra’, ‘Shanti’ and Masitula are. Oh wait, you’d definitely know who Masitula was since that would be a number you’d always had in your phonebook.
I was saying, enough with the glossy mumbo jumbo, here are the pics. Hit me up and I’ll show you more. More pics that is.