{UAH} Dr.Stella Nyanzi's husband in the UK may be in trouble bse of this story

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The twins turn eight years old next week, their sister is already ten years going on eleven. My sons have never seen their father. Not because they are blind or anything like that, but because we parted ways after he impregnated me. It was a peaceful parting. He paid for the air tickets from Heathrow to Entebbe, those many years ago.

At the airport, our daughter Baraka did not want to let go of her father's hands. She cried and clung onto his legs as if she knew intuitively that this farewell was forever; well for almost a decade. In parting, his eyes were tearing. He promised to see me in a short while. He assured me he loved me as we hugged tightly.

A few days after returning back to my family in Uganda, he revealed the truth during a painful phone call.

"Stella, I am never coming back to Africa, at least not until I get to process my asylum here, get settled in a council flat and start earning the dole or a decent salary" he stated coldly.

"But how will you get asylum yet you are already in the UK?" I asked naively.

"That's how it is done," he replied.

"What about me and the children?" I asked.

"What about you?" he shot back.

"How will I survive without you? I will die of missing you. How will I raise the children without you? How will I carry and produce the twins alone? How will I manage all this on my own?" I asked him with tears wrecking my being.

"You are a strong woman. You will manage," he said mercilessly, turning those words of praise into a painful penalty sentencing me. No wonder I cringe whenever people tell me that I am a very strong person.

"Why are you getting asylum, Ousman? You hated Europe and America when I first met you. How come you now want to stay there?" I asked these questions because when I first fell in love with my husband he loathed the idea of Africans who migrate to the West and forget about their African homelands.

"Stella, you are starting to irritate me by asking me your many silly questions," my husband said gruffily through the phone. "What will I come back to Africa for? What am I returning to?" He contrinued asking.

"What about your young family? We are here in Africa," I responded.

"Can you compare the opportunities here in the UK to those anywhere in Africa?" He asked further.

"No, I cannot compare the two. But what about us: me - your wife, your daughter and the twins in my womb? What reason are you giving for seeking asylum?" I asked.

"I am going to say that I am a homosexual man who will be persecuted in my home country of The Gambia, should I go back. The immigration officials know that the Gambian president threatened to behead gay people found in his country. They will grant me asylum here," my husband of three years at the time explained to me.

I nearly died from that phone call. I cried for many days on end. I was puzzled about a million things in my marriage. I wondered whether I was married to a bisexual without knowing. I wondered how to explain all this madness to my family and my children. I blamed myself for taking Ousman to the United Kingdom. I was so depressed that I had three miscarriage threats in my first and second trimesters. I survived the crisis only because of the unconditional love and support of my late father, mother and three sisters.

And then one day just before delivering the twins, I decided to arise and thrive against all odds. I killed my husband mentally and purposed to live resiliently as a widow with three young dependants. It is now eight years... Me and my three kids are still thriving!!! Each year my twins celebrate their birthday, I praise all the gods for their divine support, blessings and sustenance.'

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"My best songs: http://soundcloud.com/kibirige64/arise-final-mix,  http://soundcloud.com/kibirige64/revolution-final-mix,  http://soundcloud.com/kibirige64/president-final-mix

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