Chairman’s ESB: The Drink That Shut Down Kampala for a Day

If you were anywhere in Kampala last weekend, you probably noticed something strange. People—actual, busy, Kampala people—were stopping mid-stride, turning their heads, and whispering like they’d just seen a ghost. But it wasn’t a ghost. It was something much bigger.

A sleek convoy rolled through town like a presidential motorcade, complete with G-Wagons, bodyguards in black suits, and a limousine at the center of it all. Kampala traffic (which is already a disaster on a good day) came to a standstill. Boda riders forgot they had passengers, street vendors stopped selling, and influencers fumbled with their phones, desperately trying to go live before their data bundles betrayed them.

“Eh! Who is that?” a boda guy asked, balancing on his bike like a circus act.

“Maybe another tycoon has arrived,” a street vendor muttered, adjusting her bananas like they were about to be sold to royalty.

But this wasn’t a politician or some secret billionaire. It was Chairman’s ESB, making an entrance fit for a king.

For those who still don’t know (first of all, how?), Chairman’s ESB is the drink that has been setting bars, lounges, and living rooms on fire across the country. And before you ask—no, ESB does not stand for Extra Strong Beverage (although that wouldn’t be a lie). It stands for Elite Smooth Blend, and if you’ve ever had a taste, you know why.

This is not your typical "buy two and wake up in someone else’s house" kind of drink. This is for people who enjoy their liquor with class, taste, and just enough strength to remind them they’re still alive. The kind of drink you sip, pause, and then look at the bottle like it just whispered a secret in your ear.

A Drink That Moves Like a Boss

The convoy wasn't just for show. Chairman’s ESB is not the kind of thing that arrives quietly. When it enters a city, it does so in style. And Kampala wasn’t ready.

By midday, social media was in flames.

> “What’s with the black cars and bodyguards? Are we under attack?” — @kampalaTea

“Whatever they’re bringing, I need two bottles and a receipt for accountability.” — @guluPlug

“Who is Chairman and why does he move like a mafia boss?” — @slaydrinks

By evening, bars were stocking up, DJs were remixing their playlists, and influencers were suddenly pretending they’d known about ESB all along. If you weren’t at one of the ESB launch parties, you missed history.

Why Chairman’s ESB?

Let’s be real. Kampala has seen drinks come and go. Some arrive with hype, only to disappear faster than a fake investor. But Chairman’s ESB? This one came to stay.

It’s got that smooth, sophisticated taste that lets you drink like a boss without waking up to regrets. It’s strong but classy, powerful but smooth, and most importantly, it makes you feel like you belong at the top of the food chain.

This isn’t for people who still count their drinks with their fingers. This is for those who understand that good things don’t rush.

The Kampala Verdict

By the time the sun rose the next day, Kampala had already made its decision. Chairman’s ESB is not just a drink—it’s a movement.

It’s what you order when you want people to respect your table. It’s the bottle that makes the bartender raise an eyebrow because they know you mean business. It’s the taste of a smooth, effortless win.

So next time you’re in the mood for something elite, something smooth, something that moves like a Chairman—you already know what to ask for.

Kash Owakabi’s Open Letter to the Northern Music Industry

(If you haven’t read and understood, don’t say a thing.)

Ladies and gentlemen of the Northern music scene, let’s gather around and face the painful truth—our industry is in a coma, and if we don’t act fast, we’ll be out here singing for exposure and eating vibes.

Back in the golden days of 2006, when I was just cutting my teeth as an MC at Alobo and BlueMango, concerts were a whole experience. Fans came in numbers, 2,000 deep, with love in their hearts and money in their pockets. An artist could walk away with tips as fat as 300k, and getting Lumix on a show meant parting with 1.5M if he liked you! Fast forward to today, and we’re still charging 5k at the gate, but instead of growth, we’re getting more struggle and fewer fans.

Now, let’s address the real elephant in the room—poverty is waiting for us at the corner, arms wide open like a long-lost lover. How do we expect to drive Benzes when we’re still stuck on 5k entry fees? Even Rolex prices have gone up!

Let’s talk about these "all-star" posters—50 artists crammed into one event for 5k. What’s the plan? To turn concerts into charity drives? Promoters are out here feeding fans with quantity instead of quality. We’re making losses before the event even starts. Venue fees, advertising, production—by the time you count expenses, you’re already in debt before the first song drops.

Then there’s the issue of free entry squads. An artist comes with six team members who all expect VIP treatment. Do the math—if 10 artists do this, that’s 60 people who’ve contributed nothing but will still sit on the best-decorated chairs and eat the free snacks. Meanwhile, the artist funding the event is left wondering who exactly is paying who?

Here’s a simple idea: what if we actually supported each other? Imagine if 20 artists each bought a table for 500k instead of expecting free slots. That’s 5M secured without even counting fans! But no, we prefer “Bro, come support me” culture—where support means performing for free and leaving the show with nothing but exposure and a free bottle of soda.

And speaking of performing everywhere, some of you have turned into local WiFi hotspots—always available, always free. Your fans are tired. You’re draining your value. Reduce the number of random appearances and make people miss you. When you finally step on stage, let it be an event, not an everyday occurrence. Hype is built on scarcity—ask anyone in business.

Let’s also invest in professionalism. Some of you still send pixelated phone pictures for show posters—bro, are we promoting music or missing persons? Dress well, get professional photos, stop looking like your fans’ younger brother on stage.

At the end of the day, if we don’t change our mindset, we’ll keep running in circles, organizing shows that put us in debt, and blaming the economy instead of fixing our industry. Let’s serve quality and charge according to our worth. Because honestly, if we’re still charging 5k for an event with big names like Eddy Wizzy, Eezzy, and Pato Loverboy, we might as well be practicing for a free farewell tour.

I could go on, but let me restart my memory. Fans, don’t go anywhere—I’m coming for you next.

Yours truly,

BABA