Skip to site navigation Press enter. On Friday nights, the soldier boys sample the delights of the town with a vengeance, and the sex workers cash in on the influx of the soldiers into the clubs. Driven by a blind instinct to survive, they flood into the pleasure centres to hawk their bodies.
Some sex workers are teenagers, others are as old as the town. The ladies of the night are dressed to kill; tight fitting trousers, see-through miniskirts and flimsy sleeveless tops.
They wear long braids and multi-coloured wigs and their faces are bleached. Like the gentle breeze from the nearby Lake Victoria, passions blow across the spots, invigorating night revellers.
At pm, cars line the street next to 4 Turkeys. The bar, on the ground floor of a tall grey building in Entebbe, opposite the Stanbic Bank, bustles with life. It is crammed with French troops smartly dressed in fatigues adorned with black, green and grey colours. Sex workers trail the soldiers like hyenas stalking their prey.
Booming music reverberates in the small dance room and patrons dance like they are possessed. They twist and thrust to Soukous, Ragga and Raggae music. The soldier boy holds her from behind. She bends slightly and pushes her buttocks backwards. He grinds his crotch against her bottom as she wiggles her body. The man smirks and the woman giggles.
