We are taught early in life to keep our emotions tidy. Don't raise your voice. Don't cry in public. Don't let anger or frustration spill over where others can see. Over time, the body obeys.
We swallow the lump in our throat, and we tighten the jaw. But sometimes, what the body needs is the very opposite of composure to relieve stress and that is what entrepreneurs are cashing in on.
At Nairobi's Loresho, an entrepreneur has set up a screaming booth. Here, people come and pay to just scream inside a booth for 12 seconds or so.
Mercy Mwende, the chief operating officer of Mindful Kenya, the company behind the screaming therapy concept, says the initial investment for a single screaming booth was about Sh1.97 million, mostly covering the AI engine and user experience. She hopes that as they look to expand the booths, the cost will come down.
"With mass production, the per-box cost drops to roughly Sh165,000, since most of the technology is already built and future expenses mainly involve construction. We're also developing ultra-compact units to make scream therapy available nationwide, from clinics and pharmacies to events. It's a culturally attuned, low-barrier way to help Kenyans understand therapy, take a first step toward mental health care, and feel seen," she says.
When we visited, we met Lucy Mueni, a 25-year-old, who is among Kenyans who see the scream therapy as a necessity.
"Life is hard, my friend. It really is," she tells BDLife. "Sometimes you just need to scream away the pain, the anger, the fear, all that."
Ms Mueni says she had heard of similar stress-relief spaces abroad but never thought she would encounter one in Nairobi. When she did, she knew she had to try.
"The room is really dark, so it's you and your thoughts," the communications specialist at an NGO supporting disability rights says. "Every little fear you've been carrying comes up. But after screaming, it felt good like a burden on my shoulders had just been lifted."
She says when she paid to scream, she lost track of time inside the booth, but the emotional shift was instant: "I felt lighter, I felt happier. It's not like writing or listening to music, which takes time before you really forget what's troubling you. This was immediate relief."
On a scale of one to 10, she rates the experience at "seven." And yes, she would do it again. "Everyone should try this," she says. "You'll feel good after."
Of late, psychologists and entrepreneurs have been coming up with ways to relieve stress, from anger rooms where Kenyans smash TVs or computers to therapy clinics. Reason? They cite researches that say about 80 percent of employees in Kenya need stress-relief programmes.
For Ms Mueni, scream therapy does not replace her usual stress coping mechanisms, but it works differently. "I don't cry, I'm a hard core athlete. What I do is, I write when I'm stressed or I just listen to music," she says.
But where writing and music take time, screaming is helpful. "While those take time, before you really forget what it is that was troubling you, this is kind of an immediate relief, I'll say so...I would wish to have more time in there, like 10 minutes or half an hour and I'm good."
Would she do it again? She doesn't blink. "Yes, yes, I would, again and again," she says. "I mean, we girls scream all the time. Just scream, you know..." She thinks women would embrace it easily, though she is less sure about men.
"Women will definitely go for it. Men, mm-mm. Because, as you know, men like to hide their emotions; they don't like showing what they're feeling."
Asked if it could work as a bonding experience, she shakes her head. "I'd say personal experience, really. Because you wouldn't want two people in there screaming at each other, would you?" She laughs at the thought. "I just want to be in my personal space."
Rage or scream booth entrepreneurs have had to think about the pricing carefully.
"For a session? Between Sh1,000 to Sh1,500. Give me 30 minutes in there. I'll cry. Everyone should try this. I feel good after that."
Josphat Muchesia, a comedian, was also at the scream therapy session. He says he was curious when he first heard about scream therapy.
"I felt like, men, sometimes we never express ourselves too much. And I thought this was a good thing," he says.
The idea of stepping into a booth and letting loose without judgment appealed to him. "I entered the booth and closed myself inside. Then I expressed myself and screamed as much as I wanted," he says.
But the first time he heard about scream therapy, he laughed. "Of course, it sounded funny," he says. For him, the concept was strange but intriguing. "As a man, you can't scream without a reason. But later, I realised it was a good thing. When you scream, you release stress," he says.
Admitting to feeling nervous at first, Mr Muchesia recalls worrying that someone outside might hear him.
"I was a bit scared at first. I thought the person outside could hear me. But when I asked, they assured me that no one outside could hear me, so I could scream as loudly as I wanted," he says of the soundproof booth.
The experience itself, he says, was brief but impactful. "When you go in, you have to think about what you can do to scream. I looked around and saw how life was, how things were going. I said, let me scream my problem out. It lasted only 10 seconds."
He even shares a humorous technical aside: "I looked at the AI screen display while screaming. It measured my scream at around 40 decibels."
Comparing scream therapy to his usual ways of coping with stress, Mr Muchesia highlights the difference in both privacy and immediacy.
"This one is a little different. When I go to the gym, I share my story with someone, and maybe that person will share theirs with me. But when I come here and spend a few minutes inside, I am sure I relieve some stress, and no one will know what I've done," he says.
Previously, he relied on music or movies to unwind. "I would just listen to worship music, and it helped me relieve my stress. I don't really open up to friends," he admits.
He sees the scream attracting more women than men: "It's very rare to find a man who will come out and scream. So I think the turnout, women will be around 80 per cent, and men maybe 20 or 30 per cent."
Joy Wangari's first encounter with scream therapy was fuelled purely by curiosity.
"It was genuinely out of curiosity. The way it was explained to me, it was going to relieve stress, so it would at least release what you had bottled up in that moment," she says.
After trying it twice, she noticed a tangible sense of relief: "I went in there, I did it twice, and I left. The first time, I was shocked; I was like, wait, has this actually worked? Then I did it again, because if it worked the first time, why not go again? And yeah, it really did release some bottled-up energy within me, and I didn't even know I had stress."
Ms Wangari was intrigued by the soundproofing: "The soundproofing removes the worry of being seen, the perceptions of other people... No one is looking at you like, 'This weird human person, why are you doing that? "
Exiting the booth, she felt a renewed sense of joy. "I was happy, I was joyful, because just realising that it worked was really nice. Relieving? It was relieving, exactly."
The physical impact of scream therapy also surprised her. "When I did the handstand, I was shocked. I was like, eh? Yeah, it really was. The intensity of my strength -- I didn't know I could do a handstand. I was impressed by myself," she says, noting how the release of stress seemed to translate into a tangible sense of energy and physical empowerment.
Compared to other coping mechanisms, such as paying for a rage room or venting, she says, scream therapy offered her immediacy.
"I like to punch things when I'm angry. So this is really up my alley in regards to relieving stress, especially in that very moment. Sometimes it might be awkward to cry...," she says.
Ms Wangari is enthusiastic about repeating the experience. "I would do it over and over and over."
Sceptics may still roll their eyes at the idea. But psychologists insist there is evidence behind the practice.
Maryanne Anyango, a counselling psychologist at Mindful Kenya, explains the mechanics and benefits of scream therapy:
Scream therapy differs from simply yelling at home because of its brevity, privacy and guidance. "Somebody yelling somewhere else can do it for one, two, or three minutes. A scream room session only takes about 12 seconds," she says.
From a psychological standpoint, screaming triggers the release of hormones such as endorphins, which act as natural painkillers for physical or emotional pain, and oxytocin, which promotes a sense of connection between mind and body.
"When you scream, you release emotions that have been stuck somewhere. You release them physically; it's like a supernatural way of letting go of emotions," she says.
For sceptics, Ms Anyango emphasises the scientific basis of the practice: "It is research-backed. Screaming can reduce stress by up to 65 percent. It's not just something we came up with; there's evidence supporting it."
Scream therapy is not a replacement for traditional therapy or medication but a complementary wellness tool. "Think of it as a first aid, a coping tool. When emotions are overwhelming, you go scream. Then, once you've calmed down, you can deal with the underlying issue," she explains.
The therapy is suitable for all ages, as long as participants are using it as a release rather than aggressively.
Ms Anyango also highlights the corporate and cultural relevance of scream therapy in Kenya. "Kenya already has a culture of expressive screaming in churches and stadiums. Scream therapy normalises it and can help reduce workplace stress, boosting productivity by up to 65 percent," she says.
She envisions accessibility in communities through partnerships with churches, schools and other local centres, making it both affordable and inclusive.