It is public knowledge that the Roman Catholic Church has committed unspeakable crimes against humanity. It is also public knowledge that the priests not being allowed to get married have raped little alter boys. It is also public knowledge that their nuns are nothing short of sadists.
In P5 at Namugongo Primary School, I experienced the wrath of the Roman Catholic Church. Not only did those nuns beat the living day lights out of me but they forced me to eat posho, soya sauce, bean weavels and drink porridge. But that was not enough. I also had to make my bed, wash my clothes, wash myself, cut off my hair and wake up early to go to mass and sing as if Jesus was about to show up.
I have never in my life met anyone as hateful as a Catholic person. Mind you the Born Againers are in a league of their own. These nuns even made me wash in a pond of blood apparently from the Martyrs of Namugongo. Then I had to drink blood. I hate drinking blood. In fact I even hate meat and blood. But do you know what is even worse? They told me that I was privileged to be in that school so close to the Martyrs.
The above, I can forgive and could forgive but I hold grudges for like FOREVER. They used to beat me up for getting 75% saying I was capable of getting 85%. Then when I got 85%, they would beat me up because I did not get 95%. So finally I threw in the towel and got 100%. Then they beat me up for having a mouth. Like seriously? You are gonna beat me up because I just told you raw truth? Well, that is qualifiable though. This one nun made us say the Novena which we all should say anyway. But in Grade 5 the woman is going on and on about if we do not say the Novena to St. Joseph to ask Virgin Mary to talk to her son Jesus, we would never get husbands. I remember that day I looked left and right and whispered “I bet she is also a virgin”. That is how I ended up in Kamooli. Who even thinks of telling 10-12yr olds to say a Novena to ask for the perfect husband? These people are terrorists.
You should read MY WALK WITH JESUS. But it finally dawned on me. Skip mass. Stop singing. Stop reading the Bible. Eat posho. Shut up. Wash your clothes. Bathe yourself. Do the evening prep because some kids apparently had to study. Do not ever and ever challenge a nun or teacher. My sister lives to tell my story. Mzee picked me up from school after the first term in that horrible prison. Yaya did not say anything. She just unpacked my metal suitcase and proceeded to wash everything. When she was done, she ran a bath and scrubbed me like I had some kind of disease. Then she picked through my hair (which those witches had cut off anyway to the furor or mayi umusoba). Then she made supper for the family. In Uganda if you are 15yrs old, you cook for a village.
That was the first time posho tasted good. Yaya is looking at me and I am eating posho. We even had porc and byenda. I was eating like a 3mth starved Somalian or Ethiopian. My sister was not talking. Then finally after I was full, she asked me why I had not touched the Irish Potatoes. OMG…she had made something special for me but you see I had been living in a dessert deprived of all privileges and forced to eat army food. But I had shrunk. I think when they sent me to school I was 35 kilos. I came back likely 20 kilos and completely burned out.
The next day, the washing business got serious. This time, every scratch and scar on my body was being inspected. Yaya finally asked me why my butt was tough. I had never thought about it either. The thing is every time the nuns used to beat me up, I refused to cry. Then they would beat me up until I would cry. Then I refused to cry. That is how I got all the scarring in my butt. But yaya was so shocked at the scars. It was real child abuse and we had no say in it since we could not return me to the village to my teacher who never ever raised a hand on me. And apparently a good education in a Catholic school comes with real physical and emotional abuse. I see Canada getting reparations from the Roman Catholic Church for all the abuses of the children who were in their charge. Uganda will never get there but I can assure you, we have stories of how we were treated like animals.
To show you how cruel the Roman Catholic Church can be, look at the images below and you will see that even Jesus does not want to return to God Forsaken Uganda.
Martha Leah Nangalama
Namugongo killed my love for religion. Thank you.