Begumisa emphasises the importance of support when dealing with mental illness. He credits his wife for treating him like a person and not making him feel out of place. PHOTO/EDGAR R BATTE
In a country where mental illness is still whispered about, one man has chosen to speak loud and clear, not just for himself, but for millions who continue to face stigma and scrape for resources to deal with a condition some liken to witchcraft or dismiss with trivial theories. Musinguzi Begumisa is a remarkable outlier. A civil engineer by training, a husband, father, and author by choice, he has lived with bipolar disorder for 20 years. His is a story of resilience, heartbreak, healing, and a call to national attention. Two decades later, he remains a man rebuilding himself, not from ruin, but from strength. His journey is a testament that recovery is possible, that healing is not linear, and that with the right treatment, community, and faith, those suffering from mental illness can lead purposeful, productive lives.
“Mental illness jumped on me,” he says. “But I fought back. And here I am, a father, husband, civil engineer, and above all, a whole human being again.” He was a star student at Makerere University. Then things began to fall apart. He had his first mental breakdown. “I became violent and erratic. That is when I ended up in a psychiatric clinic and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.” That diagnosis, made in May 2004, changed everything.
Living at both extremes
It also set him on a journey that thousands of Ugandans walk in silence, misunderstood, misjudged, and untreated. Bipolar disorder means a life at both extremes. It is a mood disorder that swings you between two emotional poles. “On the high end, you are flooded with thoughts, hyperactive, and can become disruptive, even violent. On the low end, you are paralysed by depression; you cannot get out of bed and nothing interests you,” Begumisa says, adding that he has lived both ends.
“In 2008, I thought I could fix Uganda’s economy. I walked to State House, Nakasero, to advise the President. That manic episode landed me in jail twice. I caused chaos. Lost friends.”
His lowest point came earlier, at university.
“I was one of the best students in the country. Then I started getting retakes. One exam crushed me. I locked myself in my room and almost took my life.”
What saved him, he says, was a mix of faith, family, and professional treatment. “My parents and siblings helped me manage the early years. Later, my wife became my rock. She treats me like a normal person,” he shares with a smile. “There was a time I took medication in the morning and got drowsy while driving. She simply moved to the driver’s seat and drove us to work. No fuss. That is love.” His story is not just about suffering; it is about survival.
Fighting stigma
He insists treatment works, but only if combined with human support. “Medicine alone is not enough. You need people to check on you, talk to you, drive you when you are weak, and pray with you.” He also credits accountability partners, male friends he can talk to when he senses the emotional tide rising. “Sharing is therapy,” he says. “You do not heal in isolation.” Begumisa’s story is personal, but it mirrors a national emergency.
Uganda has fewer than 60 registered psychiatrists for a population of more than 45 million. Butabika National Referral Hospital, the country’s top psychiatric facility, was built for 500 patients but often holds more than 1,000. According to the Ministry of Health, up to 14 million Ugandans suffer from some form of mental illness. “And yet,” Musinguzi says, “mental health still carries a heavy stigma. People whisper behind your back. Employers hesitate. Society judges before it understands.”
Still, he believes the tide is shifting.
“The public used to fear Butabika like it was a prison. Now, it is slowly becoming a recognised centre of healing. I was there for about a month. It was tough, but it saved me.” His book, In Search of Sanity, captures both his battle and fictionalised stories of others affected by mental illness. “One character loses everything; job, marriage, dignity. Society calls him an alcoholic. But nobody sees the torment in his mind. That is how it is. Mental illness is not visible, so we blame people instead of helping them,” he says. Writing the book, he says, was a spiritual calling. “Before that, no one knew I struggled with mental illness. It is not something families talk about openly. But I was led to share my story to help others.” What followed was more than awareness; it was liberation.
A life of purpose, prayer and patience
Today, Musinguzi lives a full life and helps others do the same. “First, take your medication, even when you get tired of it. Then build a support system. Friends. Family. Prayer partners.” And if you are a caregiver? “Be compassionate. Understand that healing takes time. Join support groups. Ask for help too.” For him, faith has been the ultimate anchor. “There are moments even your spouse cannot reach. Only God can fill that space. I have survived because of Him.” Stigma remains his biggest enemy and his fiercest opponent. “Before the book, I had to prove myself constantly,” he says.
“So, I skilled up. I now have three Master’s degrees and more than 20 professional certifications. I am not boasting, but when people see that I am competent, they give me a chance. That is how you beat stigma. Deliver excellence.” He also urges those battling mental illness not to rush recovery. “You do not fix a life in one day. Take years if you must. But build. Bit by bit. Honestly. Patiently.”
