William Congreve in “The Mourning Bride” writes; “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.” Dr. Stella Nyanzi is living testimony to this phrase. She paces the length of the block where Professor Mahmood Mamdani’s three offices sit; one for him, the other for his secretary and the last belongs to his personal assistant.
Dressed in an orange African garb, she screeches, roars, screams, chants, and hysterically laughs cold mirthless laughter. Like a self caged tigress she prowls with the satisfied gait of a war general bracing herself for battle. “He locked my office with two padlocks, I have two on his office block pathway,” she sneers contentedly. “Checkmate!” “Mahmood Mamdani is an intimidator!” She adds.
My arrival at MISR coincides with the departure of a seething Ddumba Ssentamu, Makerere University’s Vice Chancellor; a puffy raven black Afro sits on his head. He had just been defied by the woman who had just undressed to her black undies. He enters his cream vehicle and leaves.
My third year at University and I’ve only seen him thrice. A few students see him and chant. “Dictator.” Two students stand outside the barricaded red gate, while the online lioness spits fiery magma! Heavy Coastal Tanzanian accent riddles the chants against what they purport to be Mahmood Mahdani’s intimidation work policy. They hold placards and markers, and white sellotape soon covers their lips in an X to represent suppression and gagging.
“You have nothing to lose but your chains! We are oppressed at MISR!” Sabatho Nyamsenda 3rd year and Noosim Naimasiah 5th year chant passionately. Both are Tanzanians.
“I want Makerere to protect my office, I have no disciplinary actions against me. The MISR website is littered with scandalous accusations,” Stella soon returns seething hotly, she accuses Mahmood Mahmdani of hiring terrorists. She accuses Lydia Kaweeka of labelling MISR cleaners “unlearned dogs!”
The cleaners watching the drama with mild aghast, evident shock and unmasked concern somehow vanish when they’re brought into the picture. She holds a bottle of water in her hand. She mockingly implores Professor Mamdani to kiss her tities. She retires to the basement. Professor Sylvia Tamale; a law school human rights activist and passionate feminist arrives. She conjures Stella out of her “dungeon,” Stella returns.
She loses her hitherto firm demeanour and breaks down. Her voice heavy with unshed tears. She lets them flow. She draws back when Sylvia attempts to hold her, she in one swift motion pulls her dress off her body, her bra follows suit! She stands naked in black panties, her voice broken, her resolve unbroken, her unbridled spirits fly with unrestrained rage. “Sylvia Banziita!” (Sylvia I’m dying, how will I feed my children.”) Sylvia begs Stella to calm down. She doesn’t budge. She sobs stark naked. Sylvia leaves; her characteristically calm face shows signs of defeat.
Stella apparently was Sylvia’s research assistant for two years before she got a job a MISR as a research fellow, a job she’s held for 6 years. She bares all to the live cameras. A small crowd has gathered as more media houses arrive. She asks for a break. Her cold hysterical laugh resounds through MISR.
Her students take over; they chastise this reporter for trying to shield Stella’s nudity from the NBS TV camera. Sylvia Tamale politely slams NBS for lacking ethical appreciation of their work. Stella returns with a pot of orange paint, she spurts the liquid against the walls. “This is the blood of every research fellow who has been reduced to a teacher, I am sick and tired of oppression.”
She smudges the walls and her face with the orange “blood.” “Fcuk you Mahmdani, there’s more blood running through my veins, I’m going to fight, either you leave or I leave. If we must stay, return my office!” she hisses amid sobs!
“I am fighting with nudity, because it’s the only weapon I have, I am fighting for my children. I am a single mother of 3 who will feed my children?” Stella returns bound in thick silver chains, her mouth crossed with sellotape. Stands defiant momentarily and leaves. She returns without her sellotape; she directs her gun nozzle towards Lydia Kaweeka who she brands “a terror, not an employee.” There’s another oppressor in Lyn Osome; she’s lesbian, another terror is James Ochita. Come save Makerere!” “I’ll defend my job to the dead! Makerere should fire me, I’ve not been lazy, my work speaks for itself!”
A young fellow soon arrives, tiny dreadlocks dot his head, he wears faded fluorescent green pants and has ear pins in his ears. Stella identifies him. “Bad Black banzita!” “I’ve been outside the country Maami, what’s the matter mummy??” he asks coolly. ” They want to kill me, fcuk Mamdani, he runs this institute like a private firm.” she spews more scathing vulgarities in Luganda! Stella refuses to take question only responding to one.
She swears rather agitatedly when one of the reporters’ phone rings. Switch off your darned phones, I can’t concentrate. “She mocks the policemen who arrive, the female cops sit down dejectedly.” What’s the way forward?” asks a reporter. “This has to work (undressing) the exposure I’ve bared all with exception of my vagina!”
“He has sat on my promotion for two years! I was his first recruit! All my pleas to the HR have gone unanswered!” “Ngenda mulisa aka*** kange( i’ll make him eat the channel that brought forth these twins. I’m a Nnalongo( twin mother!).”
At the end of it all, a bouncing Stella hugs her students, beaming; her office keys in her hands! Victorious once again.
Is this the beginning of a new dawn, where stripping is the last resort?? Have the Pader undressing ghosts taken over??
