Five Angels Inspiration

As they inspired its inception and are its beneficiaries, the Snack Shop I established in Lugazi, in all its deep-fried divinity, in all its caloric splendor, has been rechristened the “Five Angels Snack Shop” in honor of my five African children – I also had to rename it as a way to secure ownership and disentangle myself from some people who didn’t have the best of intentions. Deciding upon the name was as simple as the process to officially rename it; African life can be blissfully easy at times: no legal hoops to jump, no rebranding prices to pay, no registration or red-tape to maneuver; I just had to change the names on signs.

And so some days back an artist hung from a ladder in our tiny shop as the cooks rolled dough, fried pastries, sautéed vegetables, as the townspeople, our customers, our regulars, lined up on our steps outside the counter and display case eyeing the samosas, donuts, pancakes and chapatti. I smiled amidst the chaos, sandwiched between the ladder and my busy cooks and our line of customers. At least things now are working; at least I will leave with a sense of accomplishment, a sense of service; peace of mind.

I have enjoyed these last few weeks paying my dues, putting in my time at the shop; watching the new business slowly settle into place, problems ironing themselves out with no small amount of work on my part and Ester’s and her half-brother’s, Ivan; us trying out different business models: making chapatti from another location to cut energy costs, purchasing ingredients in bulk from market in Kampala, increasing the prices of some products. And with all the trials and errors and weeks and months of uncertainty, the sacrifices and toil have paid off: for the month of March we will have finally made a significant profit – one which indicates that the few thousand dollars I invested in start-up costs for the shop (with my kind donors’ money) for items including a gas cooker, deep fryer, refrigerator, furniture, etc., will pay for itself in a little more than a year’s time. (And this is where I sigh deeply with relief, deflating like a worn beach ball.)

Now that I feel more secure I can look back and say that I’ve enjoyed the process of getting the business off the ground, watching its progress, sure and shaky at times; I can say I’ve taken pleasure in the rough moments as well as the little shiny ones: me working alongside Ester and the cooks, rolling dough for chapatti, my garments sprinkled with flour, greeting customers, Hi muzunugu! the townspeople say as they watch me amused by my attempts at preparing African food and me watching their eyes light up as they grasp their favorite snacks wrapped in paper wet with hot oil.

This welcoming, the town’s warm reception to the shop has been a pleasant surprise, a sincere source of pride and happiness for me: not only are the children being helped through the business, but otherwise out-of-work women are employed and the town is appreciatively benefiting from delicious products and quality services. In fact, one of our biggest problems in the opening months was meeting demand, especially with our beloved chapattis: unique and sticky, thick and buttery.

And so the little shop hums in the town centre, churning out oily creations and sugary delights; its location and goods well known by the townspeople. I mentioned the shop’s stature to Ester the other day, people know where it is? Everyone knows where it is?

She nodded, smiling broadly, proud to work there, proud to supervise, proud to reap its benefits, “Yes, everyone knows where it is. Everyone knows the snack shop.”

Amenah, one of our cooks, and her daughter Samiya


Florence, another cook, frying pancakes


Me and Samiya - another picture of the baby just because she is so damn cute


Richard rolling the dough for pancakes


Ester and the kids hanging at the Shop