Aisha Senkubuge: bouncer and hustler who does various gigs to support her livelihood

With no family to care for them, she soon took on the role of ‘guardian’, caring for her siblings in a thatched house left for them by their parents.

Two years later, a family friend sent Senkubuge to work as a domestic helper with her friend in Kampala. She was later passed on to another family.

“The work was too much for a twelve-year-old and there was no pay. I had started working to help my siblings at home, but without pay I felt useless,” says Senkubuge.

She took to the streets to sell food. While there, she made friends. One of Senkubuge’s friends suggested her to go to Sudan for greener pastures.

At the age of 16, Senkubuge left for Sudan, where she worked in a restaurant for over a year.

“While there, officers, regardless of rank, acted as if they ruled the world. They came to the restaurant, ate and then left without paying. No one would dare say anything to them. It got worse when you were non-Sudanese. I can’t forget a scenario where I asked for a paycheck and a man raised his voice and gestured animatedly at me. He almost punched me. Most of my peers barely survived the beatings because they asked for payment,” she claims.

Senkubuge promised to train and become an escort or security guard to make people feel safer.

One of her boss’s landlords, an ex-officer, trained young people in defense skills. The young woman begged to join the training and her journey to becoming a bouncer began.

A year later, she borrowed money from her then-boyfriend, supplemented her savings and started a restaurant. Business was good and she earned enough to save and send home. In 2011, Senkubuge realized she was pregnant and returned home.

It was time for greener pastures again. She left her four-month-old child with her siblings and aunt and went to Dubai. There she completed a six-month training course and started working as a security guard in shopping centers.

Two years later, she used her savings to buy land and built a two-bedroom house in Busabala, where she left her family to return to work.

“A friend introduced me to India, but without formal qualifications, prostitution was the only job available. I couldn’t bear it. After three months I returned to Uganda. I looked for more opportunities until Turkey opened doors,” she says.

Without certification, Senkubuge could not get a security job in Turkey, so he settled as a casual laborer with meager wages.

After just two weeks in Turkey, working in a plastics factory, Senkubuge went to Sweden with her new Ugandan friends.

“The trip to Europe was annoying. To cross I had to travel illegally. A boat intended for 10 people smuggled 50 people to Greece. We paid over $500 to cross. Fearing deportation, I dropped my passport into the sea,” she recalls.

There was another group of asylum-seeking Syrian immigrants who arrived at the border at the same time as those of the Senkubuge. They merged. They spent more than a month moving from Greece via Austria and Germany, where she ran out of money.

“I slept at a train station for over a week until I got money to continue the journey. I called my child’s father, who sent me some money through an acquaintance (I went to a house near the train station and the person let me receive money through her account). The journey continued,” she recalls.

They arrived in Denmark, where they were stopped, but were locked up in an asylum center because they had no ID.

While there, she took several courses, including acting and learning English and Danish.

“I took every opportunity because I had enough time. I even did a firefighting course, first aid, took part in safety training again and acted (I was in a play at the opera in Denmark about immigrants),” she says.

After six months, she asked to be transferred to a camp near the city. This allowed her to easily earn money from various jobs and find like-minded people.

“I was earning about Shs50,000 per hour (illegally) and kept sending it home to take care of my son and my siblings’ school fees,” Senkubuge said.

Five years later, after failing to obtain legal residency, she was sent back to Uganda. When she returned, she was already in a group of bouncers in Uganda in 2017. She physically joined from the moment she returned in early 2019 and because of her experience, she advised the leaders to legalize the association.

The young woman was paid $200 a month for six months. Five months later, the Danish government gave her Shs15 million for a start-up.

She bought another piece of land in Seguku and moved the family.

“I would only earn Shs80,000 as a security guard at concerts, private parties and certain clubs. I was happy that I was finally doing what I wanted and could make a living,” she says.

In the wake of Covid-19, followed by the lockdown, many businesses have suffered – and so has Senkubuge’s work. There was little to no need for security guards or bouncers since the clubs and events were closed.

The Bouncers Association of Uganda sought help from Major General Elly Kayanja. He gave them cornmeal and beans, which were transported to their offices.

“We had to come up with ways to get the food from the office. Since one of the workers lived in Entebbe, I decided to transport his share to my house where he could pick it up, saving him a longer journey,” she says.

Senkubuge placed a few bags of maize flour and beans on her motorcycle and left for Entebbe Road.

A truck veered off the roadway and crushed one of Senkubuge’s legs, causing her to bleed profusely.

A Good Samaritan came to her rescue and took her to the nearest clinic for first aid. She was then referred to Mulago Hospital for amputation of the affected leg.

“I had to bribe myself to get the help I needed,” she says.

After spending most of her savings on leg and eye surgery, she became broke.

“I felt my life was coming to an end. I always had plan B, but in my situation, I didn’t know how to navigate my new identity,” she says.

General Salim Saleh volunteered her and sent her to Mubende Barracks, where she was fitted with an artificial leg, the one she now uses.

She returned to work after healing and started doing more office work at the association instead of going to the field – the gig she loved.

“I used to be a bouncer and even after losing my leg, I can do my job (with a few limitations). I still go to clients and talk to them about the logistics of the job offer and close deals. I can supervise a job, and if there is a need to run, the person capable will do so,” she says.

She also started a small shop where she keeps herself busy when she is not working.

“I am a testimony that you can be something from nothing. When I learned that I am the only one who can pick myself up, it kept pushing me to work harder,” says Senkubuge.

Having a child makes her want to work even more because she doesn’t want him to go through the same pattern of life.

“I’m always looking for something better. If this one doesn’t work, I’ll try another one,” she says.

When Senkubuge first started, she worked night shifts, which would prove dangerous when she returned home. She also says she was undermined as a woman in the bouncer industry.

“Every time I told people I was a bouncer, they called it a bluff. A female bouncer? They mocked without knowing my experience and skills,” she says.

There were times when someone would pay to do a job and then they would explain how they wanted to do it. Since she would do the same thing, someone would come and dictate something else, claiming that Senkubuge didn’t know what she was doing because she was a woman, especially if there was any miscommunication.

“In Uganda, if you don’t have money, you don’t have health – even if you go to most of the supposedly free government agencies.”

Don’t be too dependent. Once you have capital, start something that gives you cash flow. Even if the walk is slow, as long as you keep walking, you will reach your destination.