IN MEMORY

For Camilo — forever part of our jungle

Fabian Camilo Garcia Borbon, 30.10.1995 – 10.09.2023. Some people start as staff and become family. Camilo was one of those people.

One of the very first

Camilo was one of the very first people to start with us in the bar business — back when nobody could have guessed what this idea would one day become. He started as a waiter, and anyone who met him knows: he never fitted into one box.

Before long he wasn't only moving between the tables, he was standing behind the decks. As a DJ, Camilo gave our nights their sound and the place a piece of its soul.

The man who built our website

And as if that weren't enough, one day he simply sat down and built our website. No fuss, no announcement — just because he could. For years, junglejoymt.com was the digital home of our jungle. Every reservation, every look at the menu, every first impression ran through pages Camilo had built.

If you're reading this, you're reading it on our new website. Over the coming weeks it replaces Camilo's site — a step we take purely for legal reasons, not because his work stopped doing the job. The old site goes into retirement, but not into oblivion: it keeps its place of honour here, a reminder that a piece of Camilo is in everything Jungle Joy has become.

From the Kuh to the jungle

He wanted to go far, and I saw early on why he had what it takes: that rare talent to get stuck in anywhere, and to make everything he touched better.

If I'm honest, he was so good and so irreplaceable behind the bar that I could never really let him go. His potential was bigger than any shift he ever worked — I knew it then, and I know it even more today.

And you can never forget where this story started: Camilo was already with me when I still had the "Kuh", and even there he stood behind the decks as a DJ. We threw legendary parties at the Kuh, right in the middle of the Covid years, and we enjoyed every single minute of it. Then the place went broke — and when I took over Jungle Joy afterwards, which back then was in anything but good shape itself, a few of them came along on that wild ride: Camilo, Prabin, Jamie, Nati and a couple more. Of that old Kuh crew, only Prabin is still with us today — but every single one of them is part of this story.

From the Kuh we set off together, and along the way Camilo simply stood out more and more. He rolled up his sleeves, he did an incredible amount — and he always wanted more. For me as an owner he was worth his weight in gold: someone who wasn't only there when everything was running smoothly, but above all when there was work to be done, and who never asked what was in it for him.

Warehouse nights and never-ending shifts

When Felix and I had the Warehouse Club in Żurrieq, you were always there. That's where you got your big gigs — and still you kept bartending at Jungle Joy on the side, and built our website on top of that.

You were more than fully booked, and still: opener or closing, you took every shift, without hesitating, without asking. Not because you had to, but because you loved it. The parties and everything we lived through together were simply legendary. You showed us all what it means to truly live for your hobby, your passion and your people.

Three years on

You left us far too early. Three years have passed since we had to say goodbye — after the mass at Balluta Church and the last journey to Marsa, the whole tribe came together at Jungle Joy to eat, to laugh, to tell stories and to celebrate your memory. Exactly the way you would have wanted it.

And we're not alone in missing you. All your friends who were always in the jungle still carry you with them: they still come by, sit at the bar, tell your stories and laugh about the nights you had here together. The jungle was your living room — and your place in it stays yours forever.

Beyond our jungle

Camilo left traces far beyond our bars — all the way into the newspapers. We want to share a few of those moments with you here.

With this new website we want to show you: you will forever be a part of us. Part of our tribe, part of every night the music plays here, part of every story told at this bar. We — and above all I — will always remember what great times we had and what we built together.