Friday, March 31, 2017

#Uganda's top university fires outspoken researcher #StellaNyanzi for lack of #Menstruation pads

The following are extracts from Dr. Stella Nyanzi's posts on Facebook.  The most recent was from hrs ago and police have denied arresting and holding her.  Those who follow her on Facebook will likely provide updates via FBzero and WhatsApp.  At the writing of this story 18:50hrs Uganda local time, there is still no word of where Stella is and the police also do not know.

 

When you hear of my arrest, prepare your most comfortable clothes for you will soon be travelling to my village-home in Kalinga to bury me in the brown earth next to my father. This regime murders its critiques who dare to educate the leopardess about the evil tyranny of her leopard's thirty-one year-old reign of terror. Haven't you heard the scared whispers of wanainchi cautioning me about how the leopardess is the deadlier murderer of the two? If the leopard complained about critics poking his anus, the leopardess must be up in arms because I got burning red hot charcoals and poured them down her anus. When you hear of my arrest, tell the judge assigned to my case that I forgive the injustice with which the trial will be tried. Many judges in Uganda are just and fair. Many others are mercenaries for hire by the leopard, leopardess and leopardists. Even constitutional judges can be intimidated by the leopard's huffing, puffing, stomping and chest pumping. Haven't you witnessed the mis-judgements and de-judgements of even the most serious constitutional court petitions? Tell my lawyers to do their best during my defense against our failed state. But should we lose the case, prepare to bring me brown millet porridge packed in those bourgeios plastic food-flasks that the leopardess instructed poor parents to pack non-existent food for their hungry children. Bring me food to my jail because I will never feed on the poisoned food from the leopards and their leopardists. ================

She with a brain tinier than her narrow vagina dared to forgive me with the big wide twin-producing vagina. I reject her forgiveness. Oyo omulya-mmere yeewanika atya mukulamula omuluuta nsozi? Ye, mma, oyo ow'akamana akazaala omu ku omu, asonyiwa atya Nalongo ow'ennene engazi eyazaala ababiri? Simanya yeeyita mpumumpu? Oba naye yeeyisayo akeeyo mukkookkoowe? Okusonyiwa kwe nkuzize, saagala saggaliko. Did I seek her forgiveness in 2014 when my father, a medical doctor, died from failure to find medicine in a PHC III facility at Kiyumba village? He died that night on the drive to Masaka Hospital in search of one vial of essential medicine. If the Musevenis bought less bullets and tear-gas but more medicines for our public health, my father would be living today. I reject the forgiveness from her tiny vagina and tinier brains. Did I seek her forgiveness in 2015 when my mother, a long time NRM cadre and retrenched social worker, died from failing to get an ambulance to transfer her from our home in Kizungu to Masaka Hospital? She fell down and died as neighbours struggled to find adequate transport to take her to hospital, after learning there was no ambulance for her. If the Musevenis bought less enarmoured Black Mambas and FWD SUVs, less jet fuel and convoy diesel, but more ambulances for our emergency medicine, my mother would be living today. I reject the forgiveness from her tiny vagina and tinier brains. Did I seek her forgiveness in 2016 when my presidential vote for Dr. Kizza Besigye was stolen, our electoral commission was forcibly sodomised, our internet was switched off as if the fools were unaware of VPN technoware, our defiance prayers for the nation were foiled, my president could not breathe, the constitutional court and amicus cureae were aborted, President Besigye's constitutional rights and civil liberties were incessantly abused, and police goons unleashed brutality upon opposition civillians? Did I seek her forgiveness when our streets were militarised by gun-carrying foreign militia and stick-waving crime preventers? I reject the forgiveness from her tiny vagina and tinier brains. Did I seek her forgiveness when gold in Karamoja is mined by armed mercenaries yet Karamajong women and girls sleep on naked streets by night but carry begging bowls in the margins of Kampala city by day? Did I seek her forgiveness when girls sit on piles of dry earth to contain their menstrual flow instead of attending class in manyattas built for UPE and USE? Did I seek her forgiveness when nepotism got her into ministerial posts she is clearly under-qualified to sit in? I reject the forgiveness from her tiny vagina and tinier brains. Did I seek her forgiveness when innocent human beings were murdered and their nude corpses tied in a queu on the ground, and paraded for poring cameras to freeze this ugly part of Uganda's history? Did I seek her forgiveness when numerous Muslim clerics were massacred and murdered in Uganda? Did I seek her forgiveness for the attrocities, murders, bombings, torchings, maiming, displacement and land grabbing in Acholi-land? Did I ask for her forgiveness for the unmarked graves and mass graves of disappeared people tortured in safehouses all over Uganda? Did I ask her forgiveness when Nebanda was found in a septic tank? I reject the forgiveness from her tiny vagina and tinier brains. Go forgive yourself and yours, before you forgive me. I am Nalongo of the big wide loud vagina. You can never forgive me. I reject the forgiveness from your tiny vagina and your tinier brains.
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Aw Lawd my Gawd! This woman is totally out of touch with the reality of the masses her family has misgoverned for thirty-one years and still counting. Let's temporarily ignore her foolhardy poopooish heretics of posturing as one with the moral onus to forgive me. But how dare she not understand why I am irked and outraged by the long list of evil rained upon Ugandans by the Musevenis and Musevenists? How dare she project herself as one in touch with the realities of poor masses while simultaneously banging on about her bourgeois food-flasks or her pretentious criticism of using bodabodas to transport school children? How dare she tell misogynist patriarchal lies about the teaching of menstruation hygiene to adolescents? If this woman is genuinely this ignorant, then she is seriously much more foolish than I envisaged. Somebody lend Janet a few brain cells, please, please, please...  SEE VIDEO
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 You say that I am vulgar because of my words written and posted on Facebook. What is more vulgar than a president authorising the theft of billions of public money to be paid out to a handful of born-again hypocrites in pious high heels or suffocating neck-ties? What is more vulgar than the UPDF military siphoning gazillions of Uganda shillings under bogus ponzie firms embroiled in scandalous procurement deals? What is more vulgar than churches that take the tithes and offertories of Ugandans whose blood money is made from theft, graft, bribery, embezzlement, corruption, and witchcraft? What is more vulgar than the biting poverty of the masses in the villages juxtaposed with the dripping wealth of the mall-shoppers in the city? You say that I am obscene because of words I deploy in my communication. Who is more obscene than a president who calls himself an arse-hole, a shit-hole, a butt-crack, a rectum, a rectal passage: for indeed that is what an anus is? Who is more obscene than members of parliament whose treacherous votes in parliament are buyable with a few pieces of silver? What is more obscene than the reduction of medical doctors to death singers who diagnose Ugandans with late-stage cancer yet the only cancer-treatment-machine is broken for months and months on end? What is more obscene than UPE and USE? You say that I am insane because of the words that I use publicly. What is as insane as a thirty-one year old government whose potbellied rulers believe that they are running a democracy? What is more insane than the nepotism that places the president, his relatives, in-laws and friends at the helm of every public, political, economic and government unit? What is more insane than the total swindle and associated ruination of all our parastatals, cooperatives, airlines, marketing boards, every collectivising agency? What is more insane than the roguish regime which kills off its critics using undetectable poisons such as Ricin and Arsenic, as well as radioactive ones including Polonium and Uranium?
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PART ONE: THE PHONE-CALL "That woman is much more dangerous than her husband, the leopard. She has commissioned your murderers to kill you and leave no trace of your body for your family to mourn over or bury. Be very careful because it is now too late to escape her ruthlessness," the voice at the other end of my telephone said breathily. "But why commission my murder?" I asked. "She does not want to be criticised or challenged. She believes she is holy and untouchable. She kills off anyone who criticises her in public," the voice spoke urgently. "Then she is a coward. Cowards kill off their opponents. We warriors fight to the death in defense of our honour," I said. "Her husband can debate with you, engage you, if you criticise him. But her, she just kills. I am warning you because I believe in what you say," the voice breathed into my earpiece. And then the call was dropped. PART TWO: THE FELLOWSHIP We met to pray for Uganda and read the word of God, as we do every last Wednesday of each month. Twelve middle-class women working in the government, corporate world, and private companies. My prayer-partners cautioned me about being careful not to eat or drink in public in case I get poisoned by Musevenists trying to win favour before the wife. They told me gory details about Nebanda. They laid hands on my head and prayed God's protection over me. PART THREE: THE JOURNALISTS "Be very wise and careful. The minister of state for ethics and integrity in the president's office has just told journalists that he is going to arrest and detain you because you wrote bitterly about Janet Museveni," the Facebook message read. "Did I write anything untrue? I wrote the bitter truth. If she wants me to write sweetly about her, she should be sweet," I messaged back. "Thing is, when minister Lokodo arrests you on behalf of Janet, you will be injected with slow-killing poison. The state bought new poisons that are untraceable when administered in the blood stream. They will poison you," the messenger replied. "Then I should try hard not to get arrested by Lokodo," I messaged back. A few hours later, a friend shared with me a link to an online tabloid reporting that Minister Lokodo has sworn to arrest me. If I get arrested and detained, please remember that credible sources have warned me about my murderers being commissioned by the leopardess. If the murderers kill me, please recite poetry at my vigil instead of praying for me.

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She opened her lying mouth and said, "Walk your children to school, I walked four kilometers to and from school when I was a child!" The lazy pig that flew her children in aeroplanes to school looked down her long piggy nose and told us to walk our children to school. Do as I say, not as I do, she says through her lying teeth. She opened her rotten jaws and said, "Do not pile your children on bodaboda motorbikes, but instead buy a car to take them to school!" The big-thighed cow that is driven all over our country in a convoy of motorcades rubbed her thighs and told us to buy cars or else walk. Do as I say, not as I do, she says upon her cellulite-covered thighs. She opened her venomous mandibles and said, "Do not abandon your children to dangerous bodabodamen, but walk them to school!" The poisonous snake is wife to a tyrant who abandoned Uganda's poor citizenry, in preference to thickening the bellies of a few kin. Do as I say, not as my husband does, she hisses venomously. She opened her empty brains and said, "Schools must now open at 08:00AM and close 05:00PM, as well as close over weekends!" The empty-brained leopardess has sat silently for thirty-one years as a whole generation of Ugandans started school at six or seven and ended school at six or seven, sometimes even having night-time preps in boarding schools... she said nadda for thirty-one long years, and now she is nyonyonyoing about school hours! Somebody lend this woman quarter a brain, or some piece of brain. Just, just, just lend her a few brain cells... for she is a certified - approved fool! She opened her long blood-sucking proboscis and dared to tell us that bodabodas are dangerous transport for our children. Huh! We are the bodaboda-generation. Our fathers, husbands, brothers, sons, uncles and nephews grew rich on the Mwaanyi-Zaabala motorbikes that first ferried coffee during the magendo days. Our men reclaimed their manhood through providing for us when they transported contraband goods and criminal merchants on their Bajjaj bodabodas riding through illicit dust-covered routes criss-crossing the country from every inconspicuous border-point. Our boy friends and casual lovers rode bodabodas or hired bodabodas to stealthily come visit us in the wee hours of the night. As women and girls, we have grown up mounting all sorts of bodabodas, spreading out legs wide on top of them, sitting astraddle them, holding tight the waists of bodabodamen and flying up and down the streets, paths and highways of Uganda atop these motorbike. Helmet or not, seat-belt or not, driver's license or not, third party or not, accidents or not, we know, we trust and we love our bodabodas and bodabodamen. Our children can sleep safely while riding on the back of bodabodas. Somebody, please get the first lady a bodabodaman to ride her up and down Rwakitura or Kololo or Entebbe or Nakasero. Somebody tell the Minister of Education that these bodabodamen she disparages are our fathers, husbands, brothers, sons, nephews and uncles - yes even our boy friends, lovers and casual sex partners for a fee! Our children are a lot safer under the care of bodabodamen than they are under the nepotistic family rule entrenched by the Musevenis. How can bodabodamen be more dangerous than a rogue regime whose president appoints his wife as Minister of Education, and wants his son to be future president? Who is more dangerous than the Musevenis today? Somebody teach Janet Kataaha Museveni how to mount a motorbike, spread her thighs wide and sit atop the beastly machine, put her cotton knickers on the bodaboda's seat made of fake leather, hold tight the bodabodaman's sweaty waist and ride all over Uganda as ordinary Ugandans do. We need to educate the Minister of Education. We must renew her brain based on everyday experiences. Aluta continua...

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The scavenging vagabonds that work en masse to entrench Museveni's autocracy are vultures eating the rotting carcasses left of Uganda's vitality. Some of these scavengers are the mediocre little boys wearing big pants over their tiny withered balls and carrying arms at the CID Headquarters in Kibuli. D/ASP Bill Ndyamuhaki is one such wanna-be wololo masquerading as an intelligence interrogator specialising in cyber crime investigations. Although he was grilling me alongside his seniors when I was summoned for interrogations about alleged Offensive Communication and Cyber Harrassment, he revealed all the high-charged wrecklessness of unbaked militia. He must be among those bootlickers that later bangled up my cross-border travel to Amsterdam last week by unlawfully putting my names on the 'No Fly List'. So I served them last week with a legal notice to sue if they did not lift my travel ban by Friday of last week - among other things. Oh yes, I did. Afande Billy-boy has been calling my phone number incessantly since last week. Today, he instructed me via phone to go to the CID offices because they "need to talk to me." Imagine the total disregard for professionalism, procedure and protocal. He laughingly called me as though he was asking his regular malaya to take him her vagina for servicing. How dare a police officer paid with public funds casually telephone me about going to the CID offices? Does D/ASP Billy-boy think I am his lover or his relative? I called him out, rebuked him and instructed him to correct his actions by writing proper summons for me to go to a specific office at a particular time and date. Jeez, the total lack of professional ethics!!! Now, the very same police officials, today invited journalists from the state-owned public media houses to Buganda Road Court to witness my handcuffed person being read my charges. Four journalists from Bukedde, and The New Vision newspapers called me several times today to ascertain if I was already at the court. These journalists spent the whole day waiting for a lie told to them by Museveni's vagabond vultures who feed on the carcasses of Uganda's masses killed off by the regime. Shame on you Bill Ndyamuhaki, if indeed this is your name! Shame on the CID for such sloppiness! Shame on you Yoweri Museveni for trying to intimidate me from writing my criticism about your corruption, misrule, nepotism, rape of our constitution, militarising our democrary, neglect of the poor citizenry juxtaposed with fattening you few cahoots: the grand schemes of your autocratic fuckery! Similar to Steve Biko, "I WRITE WHAT I LIKE!" Similar to Tom Voltaire Okwalinga, "MY FREE SPEECH IS NON-NEGOTIABLE!" You will not gag me, billahi! If I have committed a crime, follow due process. Get an arrest warrant, get a charge sheet, get some brains, for crying out loud grow some balls and follow the laid down procedures. If you want me silent, kill me as you killed Nebanda and Kaweesi and all those others. In the mean time, prepare your state attorneys to meet me in court for the unlawful travel ban that you placed on me in my own country! I raise my black fist at you. My war paint sits fresh on my face. Alas, I am reading Steve Biko tonight.
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Although I am a mother to millions, there are three children of my womb: Baraka - my daughter, Wasswa - my older twin son, and Kato - my younger twin son. My children keep me grounded because grandiose abstractions neither impress them nor feed their bellies. My children's future keeps me swearing, cursing and shooting bitter words at our evil rulers. Some people ask me how I dare speak the dirty truth to power yet I have children, but I wonder how any sound minded parent can keep silent when the rotten government is eating away the soul of our country - Uganda. These people ask me why I speak sharp bitter vulgar words to describe the Musevenis and Musevenists who rape every orifice of Mother Uganda, but I wonder how any person with a legacy can sugar-coat or soften the harsh reality of this era's corrupt autocratic and nepotistic military regime. I insult the tyrants for I am not barren. Uganda belongs to the children. Museveni will soon be a footnote in history periodicals. His ghost might roam Rwakitura, Nakasero or Entebbe. Musevenists will soon be humus feeding the succulent plants we shall be eating in the liberated Uganda. I will soon be bent with age and irrelevant. But the children... they will live on long after Museveni's name is unknown to an entire generation. My children are tomorrow's world leaders, activists, thinkers, innovators, artists, scribes and critiques. My children will live through the coming liberation and the revolution. And so, I speak the dirty truth to power without fear or favour so that my children will learn to breathe living fire to frozen governments. I take my children to peaceful protests and meetings for civil disobedience so that they learn their civic duty to defy this evil regime. For the children, I refuse your silence, your inertia and your sweet hollow words.

PERIL OF AFRICA  



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