AN EVENING IN COCO JUMBOO

I, finally, decided to go to ‘Coco Jumbo’ – a famous or infamous bar in Goma, D R

Congo. I did not dare to go alone though; I had my companions, brave and bored like
me. Whether enjoyed the place or not, regular visit would enhance our performance in
enjoyment or not, going to such a place is ethically correct or not, are few of the
questions hunting me now. Thus, a little review of that evening is necessary.

‘Coco Jumbo’ is a club with a small restaurant, bar and dance floor. Located at one
corner of the well-known Vodacom Square in Goma, it appeals to all traversing the
square. Goma, brought into life with the shifting of MONUSCO Force Headquarters,
offers only few clubs like ‘Coco Jumbo’; thus, it is one of the most visited clubs in the
city. Visitors are mostly MONUCO staff. Naturally, being a staff in MONUSCO, I also
found ‘Coco Jumbo’ as an option to get rid of my stress.

Ironically, all ‘options’ are not equal in merit; they range from inefficient to efficient,
inconvenient to convenient, wrong to right, difficult to easy. ‘Coco Jumbo’ as an option
falls further on the lower side of the scale. Obvious cause, as seems for me, is my
cultural background in general and disorientation/hesitation in particular. Thus, it
demands courage on one’s part to burst the bubble of hesitation-originated largely by
culture, and decide to hit ‘Coco Jumbo’.

The kind of courage in question needs elaboration. Apparently, two hesitations, one
resulting from the Bengali practice and the other from religion, were present in me which
I had to overcome by courage. Bengalis, in practice, do not visit a club to cast off stress.
Bengali society, widely believed as Indian, considers such practice of night club or DJ
party as contradictory to its values. More so, speaking behind individual is an inherent
and common practice of Bengali, at least most of them. What others are doing is an
essential menu in any Bengali discussion. Worst even is the speculation about the
activities in nightclub by others. Knowing that in mind always and accepting the mental
agony that it breeds, I had to acquire the courage to go Coco Jumbo (Notorious, not it!).
The other kind of hesitation was from my religious values. Islam strictly restricts and
forbids the practice of nightclub going. A true Muslim never dreams of it. Being a
practicing Muslim, I had hesitation in breaking the bubble of my values. Frankly, I
needed even greater courage to overcome this prejudice.

Surprisingly, courage does not guarantee success in immediate aftermath. Mere

deciding to cross the border does not mean one enjoys his tour in foreign state. At one
end, new things are seen and felt which is pleasant, but the other, it is always like
feeling alien. Sting sings: “I am an Alien, I am an English man in New York”.
I truly felt like alien; I felt I did not belong to this place. I can’t dance; I can’t drink; I can’t
act smart before all who seem to be from this place. Thus, part of my failure is obvious-
lack of practice, lack of skill on dancing and drinking. But, if I had the skill, could I enjoy
the evening; this remains arguable. But the other part, major share, is more rooted
inside me- my values those I cherish from my family, my neighborhood in hometown,
my friends, my relatives, my society, my education and my religion. Thus, even if I knew
to dance and drink I could not really cross the barrier of my values.