#mentalillness

I have been feeling very “unexercised” of late and so decided to take an evening walk around the estate.

Phone. Check. Earphones. Check. 500 shillings for sweet pepsi. Check. You know, those green minty sweets? Yeah, those ones to keep me company. As “luck” would have it, my slipper strap broke just a few steps away from the shop where I bought my sweet pepsi. The evening walk was immediately aborted and I took the earphones out as I hobbled back home, tail between my legs. I mean, how could you have earphones in when one foot has no shoe?

As I approached the gate to the estate, I spotted my elderly neighbor sitting on a mat in her compound. There was no way I couldn't ask after her, even with the broken slipper in my hand.

“Osibye otya nno nyabo?”
“Ehhhh, ndabira wa? Gyendi muwala. Nga obuze!”
“Ah, gyendi. Mbadde busy nnyo these days.”

So I sat down in the grass.

She had been seeing and hearing voices. Strange people. Strange voices. Last night was so bad that her body was black and blue the whole day. Some men had come to her. Two were holding swords. Two others held her down, pushing her into the mattress. Another two grabbed her feet. One of those with the sharp knife, the sword, was shouting, “So you thought that praying would help you. Don’t you dare joke with the forces of darkness!!” Then he bared his teeth in a menacing laugh. She had pulled the sheet over her face, willing them to vanish. She was shaking uncontrollably with fright. She did not get a wink of sleep for the rest of the night.

I listened, nodding along as she narrated her ordeal.

“Another time I had taken the rubbish out to the back. When I returned to the kitchen, I heard a noise. I thought it was the cat. But then I remembered that I had left the cat rolling in the grass outside. The noise came from the sitting room. I walked towards it. Then I saw a man, wearing olubugo across his loins. He was bare-chested. He was a young man. With a bushy beard and very long black hair. Very long. His red eyes flashed from side to side. When he looked up at me, I fled outside. I was shivering. Tears were running from my eyes. I stayed outside the house the whole day, waiting for one of my sons to return from work. However, when it started getting late and the mosquitoes were attacking me, I summoned the courage to return to the house. I switched on the light. The man had disappeared.”

“Where did he go?” I asked, mesmerized.

“I have no idea. He just vanished. I do not know where he passed.”

She looked so troubled.

“I tell you, whenever I try to tell my husband, he dismisses me. My children do not want to listen. I do not know why. Maybe they think I am pretending.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“Yes, I have been to Mulago hospital. The doctors told me I had high blood pressure. They also did a number of tests to check if I had a heart condition. What do you think?”

I had already started to diagnose her condition. I am not a doctor but I have heard, and read about something like this. Hallucinations. Schizophrenia. Delusions. I would have to be extremely careful with my answers.

“Ummmm…” I began. “You know, there are what are called ‘infections of the brain’. Have you heard of them?” I was avoiding her eyes.

There is a stigma about mental health. It is taboo to talk about mental disorders. I do not know why. I gingerly started on the subject.

She shook her head vigorously. No, she didn't have a sickness of her brain.

Hard paper. But I had to be tough.

“Okay. So you said you had been going to Mulago? They have a mental health department there.”

I didn't say “psychiatry ward” because I don't know what its called in Luganda. The next line was hard.

“You can also try Butabika. They have doctors who deal with such infections. And they are free of charge.”

“I have told you this is not a sickness of the brain. Actually, I think these are evil spirits. They must be. Do you know that whenever I swallow the tablets, they get stuck here.” She pointed to her chest, somewhere just above her stomach. “They sit there for hours and I cannot swallow anything else. I cannot vomit them. I am uncomfortable. I cannot sit down. I find it hard to lie down.”

“I understand. But you really need to go to Butabika. Just so you know, people associate Butabika with madness, with mental disturbances, which society thinks is a bad thing.”
I was looking straight in her eyes as I spoke.
“But mental illness is illness just like any other. It is a sickness of the brain. Just like you can have a cough, which is a sickness of the chest.”

I was willing myself not to lose track of what I was saying. I had to make this as simple as possible.
“I know those doctors will find you some good medicine.”

She fixed me with her gaze. “I am not mad. This is not a sickness of the brain. Someone told me to go to Mama Fiina. But isn’t she expensive? You know, on Saturday, there were doves circling my head, wanting to peck my face. They were so many. Big black birds.”

I was determined not to lose the fight.

“Okay, some people say Mama Fiina deals with evil spirits. I am not sure what she charges. But I know she will first ask you for a baluwa from your doctor before she can ascertain what misambwa she is dealing with. Just ask your son to take you to Butabika. The doctors will check you.”

“I need prayers, my daughter. I need prayers. The other day I heard a child calling to me. I followed the child to that swampy area you see behind my fence. The child kept beckoning me. I got to a small thatched hut in the middle of the swamp. The door was locked. I knocked hard. No answer. I knocked again. Suddenly the child started wailing very loudly! I was very scared and ran away. When I got home, the voices told me that I was lucky I did not open the door to that house because they would have killed me!”

At this stage, I didn't know what to tell her. My heart went out to her. I told her I would pray for her.

What I know is that she needs to see a doctor. And that she needs someone who will listen to her. Especially her close family. And that they need to let her know that she will be okay.

That this could be a condition known as psychosis.

And that there are treatment options.