By Dr. Okello Sharon Nagenjwa, Girl From Oyam
Not physically, you don’t even have the fitness for that. I mean with that single, stinking, unfiltered comment you typed while sitting on your toilet, pushing out that last tiny snail like confused brown droplet that still couldn’t decide whether to stay, go, or apply for citizenship.
Let me show you how fast a miserable human being with free data and zero internal supervision can create mass casualties.
A pregnant woman is at home, eight months along. Her husband is bedridden, half his body on strike after a stroke.
A counselor, also heavily pregnant, comes to talk to him, telling him strokes are survivable.
The wife escorts the counselor out.
They exchange pregnancy niceties:
“How far are you?”, “Eight months.”, “And you?”, “A few days shy of eight.”
Then the wife asks:
“Will my husband be okay?”
Counselor replies:
“Don’t worry, our husband will be fine.”
Wife thinks “our” means “us as a community.”Counselor meant it in the literal, polygamous, extracurricular sense.
Ignorance is truly the strongest painkiller on earth.
“Love is blind but stress is deaf”
The wife passes the husband’s diabetic mother lying peacefully under a tree, breathing like a radio that finally found the right station after years of static.
She walks in.
The husband, fighting for dignity, says,
“Give me my suit. Let’s take a picture.”
She fixes him up, tears tucked away, and posts a photo filled with desperate hope.
Meanwhile…
In a rental bathroom in Kireka, an unemployed man is constipating, legs trembling like stolen solar panels in a thunderstorm.
He’s scrolling through X while waiting for the last tiny snail-like poop to drop and free him.
He sees the picture.
His bloodstream , already full of stress, regret, and inherited stupidity , enters gymnastics.Cortisol starts moonwalking.
Blood vessels tighten like ushers in a fake pastor’s church. His brain, starving for dopamine and direction, chooses violence.
He smiles his rotten smile, opens his fake account, and types:
“So this is his wife? After infecting and impregnating Mary Magdalene the counselor from Mulago? You cadres eat government money and think you will live forever? TIME is up for you! Mugenda!”
The snail poop finally drops. He wipes, fingers touch the faeces, he shrugs, clearly, poop recognized its home! Latrine enters the shower like nothing happened.
Back in that home…
The wife reads the notification.
Her heart drops the beat she needed for survival. She collapses.Her belly hits the table corner like tragedy selecting coordinates. The maid screams.
The old diabetic mother under the tree hears the chaos; she gets up too fast, her heart, which finally found peace, switches back to static. She dies instantly, promoted to glory without filling forms.
The stroke husband crawls, dragging his half-paralyzed body, calling his wife’s name with a voice soaked in defeat. Total damage.
Ambulance.
Hospital.
Chaos.
A doctor shouts,
“Counselor! Help here!”
She rushes in, the same counselor you mentioned in your toilet commentary.
Phone in one hand, medical equipment in the other.
Someone whispers:
“Before you go in… they’re saying online that Abednego infected you…”
Her brain freezes. Her knees clock out.
She stumbles into the doctor. The doctor’s knife slips, straight into a patient on the bed.
Another life gone. Doctor arrested. Counselor breaks completely.
And the toilet philosopher who started all this? He sees the news.
Logs into his real account and types:
“Eh Bambi she died? May her soul rest in peace. May God comfort the husband.”
Like he wasn’t the diarrhea demon who pushed the first domino.
Now ask yourself…
How many people have you killed in one minute? With one comment? One rumor?
One bitterness-triggered reaction?
Some of you think you’re “expressing an opinion.” No. You’re performing emotional terrorism with free data, while your conscience is on flight mode.
Time doesn’t heal such wounds
