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{UAH} Dr Stella Nyanzi

Comrade Akim Odong/ Alan Barigye./ Frank Mujabi,/ Abbey Semuwemaba

Here is Dr Stella Nyanzi pouring her heart out again  about her late father, a man who died more than 10 years ago. It is really a shame that an intelligent woman has allowed herself to fall so low and so deep into the gutter. yesterday, she outraged her own younger sister when she wrote that the father had denied being her natural father , and then made it even worse when the sister complained, by making yet another ludicrous claim that that was the father's way of emotionally abusing his children because her late mother told her that her father forced her to have sex just a day after giving birth to her- thats why she fell pregnant with her sister within only a week of giving birth. Now a woman who writes such things- is she really in full control of her mental faculties?

I wrote here yesterday about a form of therapy that psychologists sometimes recommend for their patients- it is called the SHOUTING OR SCREAMING THERAPY.  They encourage  a patient to find a quiet place where they will not be disturbed and shout and scream at the top of their voices until they were really tired. They say this releases the anger, pressure and stress built up inside them.

In fact a mugisu friend of mine who lives in Lewisham was recommended this therapy and he said it worked for him. He would go out in the afternoon to Blackheath/Greenwich Park- this is a very large area of open space where even deers and other wild animals live, there are also sanctuaries for birds- you can walk up and down this park for 3 hours completely undisturbed, sometimes without seeing any single human being; you can find a corner or a shrub to lie down, drink, sleep or just forget about the world. When I got divorced, I sometimes used to visit this park, especially in the summer times. My Mugisu friend said he would go and walk up and down the park, shouting at the top of his voice for hours, and then go back home, lie down and immediately fall asleep. In the morning he would wake up less stressed and full of energy.

I think this is what Dr Stella Nyanzi is trying to do- except that she is shouting at the whole world and in a forum where everyone can hear her screams- wheraas what the psychologists recommend is really different- they want you to shout at yourselfy-  shout out the demons inside you.

I really believe Dr Nyanzi now needs mental health intervention- I  think she is going down the drain very quickly. And with all this stuff she is wrting, I cant see how the University will take her back. You cant have a person writing this sort of stuff teaching students.

Bobby


My father clandestinely left Uganda for Saudi Arabia, where he was employed as a physician at Tathleeth General Hospital. He neither told me nor any of my siblings about his sneaky departure out of Uganda. For six full months, we never knew his whereabouts.

My mother was very worried about making ends meet, particularly because our father was responsible for paying our school fees. He left instructions with his side-dish to collect our four bank slips, pay our school fees using his remittances, and also do some basic shopping for our return to school.

Feeling like the favorite vagina, this side-dish proceeded to send messengers to my mother for the bank slips of my siblings and I, as well as our brief shopping lists. My mother was infuriated and deeply hurt by this bujoozi. But she swallowed her pride and gave the side-dish's messenger the bank slips and school shopping lists. For our sake, Mummy kept her cool because she prioritised payment of the school fees.

When the stamped bank slips were returned along with only four bars of Kisumuluzo soap and four packs containing a kilo each of sugar, my mother's anger peaked. My mother opened each of the packs of sugar, dramatically held her nose as if she was hit by a stench, and instructed the messenger to return the 'poisoned sugar' to the side-dish. My father never again delegated our school shopping to this side-dish. A wise woman deploys drama.

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