What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.

In 2015, Adejoh Momoh seized the opportunity to take the driver’s seat in his life. Leaving the relative safety of family behind, Adejoh, who works in the developmental space, was excited to figure out who he was without external pressure or direction. How successful was this journey and what has he learnt about himself through it all? 

In this episode of Man Like, Adejoh talks about leaving his sheltered life behind to find himself in a new city, how Nigeria that motivates him to work hard and why kids are a responsibility he never wants to deal with. 

Everyone has their “man now” moment. Do you remember yours? 

I’ve had several moments, but the most profound has to be when I moved to Kaduna for work. I was 26 at the time, and I was leaving behind the comfort of my family and support system for a new city where I didn’t know anyone. It felt like I was being thrown into the deep end and finally getting the chance to make adult decisions instead of being handheld. 

At that age, I still had to call home by 10 p.m. to tell them I’d be sleeping out. I also had to think carefully before bringing a partner home, and things like that. I’d outgrown living like that, so as soon as the Kaduna option presented itself, I knew I had to take it. 

Interesting. So was Kaduna all you expected it to be? 

To an extent, yes. As trivial as it might sound, just having my own apartment, curated the way I wanted, meant a lot to me. I was very protected growing up, so almost everything had either been done for me or handed to me.

In Kaduna, I got the chance to do stuff for myself, to work at a job I absolutely love, and there was some sense of validation knowing I was in control. It felt like I was finally making adult moves. 

But the funny thing is, even after all I said about wanting freedom, I got to Kaduna and I’ve spent most of my time at home because I don’t know anyone outside of work. All my friends I usually hang out with are back home in Abuja. LOL. 

You’ve mentioned not making decisions a lot. What’s that about? 

So the hand-holding thing happened a lot. Now that I’m an adult, I understand I was shielded from a lot of things to protect me. But I would’ve loved to have an input in most of those decisions. 

For example, after university, I would’ve liked to take a break from everything and travel or something, but there was a job waiting for me as soon as I finished. I’d also attended a boarding primary and secondary school, reading and being serious all the while. I just wanted some time to actually have fun and find myself. But I didn’t have that choice because everything was already planned out.  

I know this sounds like privileged whining. I’m grateful, but it’s really how I feel.

Boarding school from primary level? Omo 

Yeah. I started boarding school when I was about three years old. This school is in Ikenne, Ogun State — Mayflower. It really was one of the best schools at the time. But I didn’t like that I started there really young.

Wow. Have you ever had this conversation with your family? 

Oh, I never did. I just accepted things as they were. I talk about wanting to have had more input into decisions as they affected me, but a part of me is grateful for the many ways I was guarded as well. It created the trajectory my life is on right now, and I feel like if i’d done everything I wanted to do, I would’ve wrecked my life. 

There was the time I wanted to get a face tattoo. LOL. I think I turned out pretty okay, not being in control of my life? 

Is that rhetorical? LOL. The boarding school experience though, how did that affect your relationship with family?

It really didn’t hit me until I was in secondary school. I realised I wasn’t as close with my siblings and family as I’d wanted, and a lot of the strain was because we weren’t around each other a lot. My siblings and I were off in different boarding school again; my parents were out working. That’s when I knew we had to consciously work and be more deliberate about creating the sort of familial bond we wanted. 

With the boarding school decision, for instance, my mind was all over the place for a long while. I started to wonder if I was a bad kid. Boarding schools are great for teaching discipline and independence, but if I had a say in the decision to attend, I wouldn’t have done it as young as I was. 

I felt this way as a child, but now that I’m older, my perspective has changed. My parents were moving around a lot for work, so I see why they might’ve felt having me in a boarding facility would ensure I had some stability. 

Is it something you’d consider if you had kids? 

I don’t think I want kids. They’re very unpredictable and too much of a responsibility. 

Can we talk about this? 

As soon as I became an adult, I came to the conclusion that children won’t be a part of my life plan. There’s a lot that goes into having kids, and I don’t want to be forced to make the same sometimes uncomfortable choices my parents had to make in the interest of their children. I want to live as selfishly as I can.  

Don’t get me started on how children can be out of your control. I know good and bad kids. I don’t want to try my best to bring up a child only for them to turn out to be a disaster. I can’t deal with all that. 

I want to pack a backpack with two shirts and travel to South Africa without worrying about diapers or where my child would stay. There’s also the part where I have to look out for them. I don’t want to be involved in making decisions for anybody. I want to travel as light as possible. 

I’m stealing that last line. What happens if you meet a partner who wants kids? 

It’s not a deal breaker for me. We just need to have an understanding that even though we’re both parents, you’re pretty much responsible for this child, and I’ll only be around for as long as I can tolerate it. I’ll be there for the good times and the good times only. 

Wahala. Looking back, do you regret the move that gave you your “man now” moment? 

It was absolutely the right decision. I’ve seen that I can live by myself and do my own thing. I love my job. I’ve been working here for about 7 years now and it has expanded my mind and career prospects in ways I can’t even begin to explain. 

Also, I was sheltered for a long time, living in a bubble. Moving to Kaduna and working with the government on intervention programmes, I’ve gotten to see the opposite of this spectrum. It has been an important part in helping me realise my privilege and how it’s not the same for everyone. 

Fair enough. So what drives you as a man living in Nigeria? 

I’d say the fear of poverty. Systems don’t work in Nigeria whether you’re rich or poor. But it’s particularly shitty for people who don’t have money. I work hard to make sure I have enough financial options to always have choices. That’s what drives me. 

I’m curious to know what you’ve learnt about being a man over the years

That I have the will to survive, thrive and just enjoy life. I’m tougher than I look or sound. No matter what life throws at me, I’ve realised I always find a way to thrive. 

So what’s next for you? 

I’d move back to Abuja to live by myself, in my own house. My family lives in Abuja, so it would be the first time we’d all be in the same city, yet live in separate houses. 

I’m excited to see what that looks like. 

It’s the growth for me! 

What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up.  Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Toheeb Azeez, it’s that this man is committed to anything he sets his mind to. From keeping to our interview time despite shuttling between states, to changing his family’s narrative in the face of tragedy, the brand marketing exec has learnt to make things work no matter what life throws at him. 

In this episode of Man Like, Toheeb talks about navigating grief after the death of his parents, stepping up as the man of the house despite financial struggles and how loss has influenced his outlook on life.

What was growing up like? 

Where I grew up and where I am in life today are worlds apart from each other. I grew up in Okokomaiko, a place most people call the trenches. My dad was an electrician, my mum was a trader, so my family didn’t have much. But even though our situation wasn’t ideal, my mum made sure my siblings and I didn’t let it define us or weren’t swept away by what was happening around us. She trained us to know our lives could be better, which made us selective of the type of people we rolled with. I remember people used to say, “Don’t play with these ones because their mother will come for you o.”

LOL 

Despite our financial situation, my parents made sure we went to a private secondary school, which was rare for people from my area at the time. The school was expensive, and we had to supplement it with a schedule where I had to hawk on the street right after school. I did this every day, including weekends. 

Omo. How did you manage? 

I started hawking in primary school, and I think that was one of the most challenging time for me. I used to run into my classmates sitting in the back of their parents’ cars while I hawked on the street. While some were compassionate about the whole situation, others would come into school the next day and laugh at me. I remember a girl who refused to pair up with me in a class simply because I was from a poor family. She would always make fun of me. It was hard. 

But every time I came home to complain to my mum, she’d remind me there was no reason to be ashamed of what I was doing as long as I wasn’t stealing. After all, regardless of their parent’s financial status, I was in the same class as them. That’s all that mattered. 

My mum was special like that, so it felt like my world ended when I lost her at 16. 

I’m so sorry 

Thank you. That wasn’t my first encounter with loss, though. When I was about 11, my mum had a baby girl, and I was very excited. My siblings and I at the time made up four boys in the family, so the idea of a little sister made me so happy I remember rolling on the floor when she was born. Unfortunately, she passed away after a year and some months. My mum had another baby girl not long after, but she also passed after nine months. 

I already knew what grief meant at that tender age. By the time I turned 15, I lost my dad. A year and a week after, I lost my mum too. I was in my final year of secondary school when this happened. It was especially hard for me because we had a shared dream and plan for my future. We planned so far ahead, we hoped when I’d be 50 years old, I’d have a 25-year-old child. All these plans, and then boom, I was left alone to fend for myself and my brothers. 

Damn. Do you recall what you were thinking when all of this happened? 

It felt like rapture had happened. I didn’t see the point in anything anymore. My parents were dead, and I was like, “At this point, the world needs to end”. It truly felt like complete darkness. It was also around this time that I attempted suicide on Carter Bridge. I was walking slowly by the railings, just convincing myself to jump. I didn’t do it because I’d promised my mum I’d look after my brothers, and I knew I had to honour that promise. 

I lost more people after my parents, like my aunt and my grandma. Now, I’m numb to death. When I hear someone close to me is dead, I feel the pain in a way, but I’m so used to it that I’m like, “Let’s get on with the funeral and move on.” 

Did you ever come out of the grief that made you suicidal? 

You never get over a loss like that. No matter how much I’ve tried, it still feels like it happened last year. I’ve been able to manage it over time by adopting my mum’s approach to life. As much as we made all these grand plans, she always thought about the negative and the positive — think about what you want and mentally prepare yourself if it doesn’t happen. 

Her philosophy helped me understand that losing my parents was out of my control, but you know what’s still in my control? How I move on with my life. I couldn’t dwell on my situation because it’s not an excuse. I had a responsibility to myself and my brothers. 

So what did you do? 

I moved to live with my grandma after my parents passed, while my brothers lived with other family members. While there, I started baking and selling donuts and meat pies from her shop. Thankfully, my mum had raised me to be in the kitchen regardless of gender, so all that work wasn’t new to me. I moved from small pastries to cakes, and when mobile phones became a thing in Nigeria, I became a procurer, helping people get phones at affordable prices. I spent a large portion of my time in Computer Village. I knew almost everyone there. 

I was doing all these things to care for myself and my brothers. 

You became a dad to your siblings. What was that like? 

Before my parents passed, my brothers and I were always fighting. I felt like my parents were strict with me and not with them. It was so bad that on her deathbed, my mum cried and begged that even though I didn’t like my brothers, I needed to take care of them. I didn’t know she thought it was that serious. I never hated them; we were just kids. 

I did my best to send them to school, and with me, we became the first batch of graduates from my father’s family. We’re close, but I still have to play the role of a parent and older brother to guide them on the right path. 

You mentioned graduating. How did you get into school? 

First off, I wrote jamb five times. LOL. The first time, the result was withheld. The second time, they cancelled the result. The third time, the centre got cancelled. And the fourth time, the result was withheld again. It was after my fifth attempt that I finally got admission. 

At this time, my grandma had passed away, and I was now living with my uncle. Even though he wasn’t exactly invested in my education at first, after I passed my GCE, he decided to support me. That’s how I ended up in a private university. I’d spent five years at home, so most of my coursemates were younger, but I didn’t care. I knew what I was there for, and I had a good time. 

I remember saving my pocket money from my uncle to send my younger brothers to school. Then I started working with a bank and used most of my salary to continue this. I was able to send my brothers to school in Ghana. And because I had a first-class, my uncle agreed to sponsor my master’s years later, so I went abroad to get that done. 

What happened next? 

I studied Petroleum Economics and Finance in Scotland because I wanted to work in the oil industry. Long story short, there was an oil crash at that time, and I found it very hard to get a job with an oil company. But this beverage company got my CV in London and wanted to meet me. I initially refused because I’d still set my mind on working with an oil company. But after talking to my friends, I just took the job in the meantime. 

I ended up spending three years with this company before moving to my current one. I also currently lead the Nigerian brand marketing team for this beverage company. 

Talk about a major level-up moment! How have all of these experiences influenced your outlook on life? 

My experiences have made me a critical thinker. I even feel like I overthink everything because I can look at something and picture variations of the scenario. This has helped forge my philosophy; if I’ve thought something through and understood that its success or failure lies on my back, I can go for it.  

I’m also an independent thinker who likes to make my own decisions. I tend to seek second-party opinions on things, but ultimately, I know I’m responsible for myself and my decisions. I analyse my situation and do what’s best for me, not just what people expect or want.  

Interesting. So what are you looking forward to these days? 

The things I’m looking forward to scare me. I know my opportunities are limitless, so I’m looking forward to surprising myself with the choices I make moving forward. 

Can you give me the ingredients to live a happy life? 

First, learn to let things go, especially when they’re outside your control. The second rule will be “Do you”. And finally, celebrate every step, no matter how small it looks. It’s not until big things happen that you find happiness. Each step in the right direction will motivate you to keep going. So celebrate them. 

I’ve taken notes. Thank you for the pointer, Toheeb 

You’re welcome!

Jare Fola-Bolumole is genuinely content with being a family man. As the CEO of ChocBoy Brand, a Nigeria-based chocolate manufacturing company, he’s making a name for himself as an innovator and leader. But when he’s not talking about using chocolate as a tool for global domination, he enjoys talking about his life as a family man. His voice lights up at the mention of his two daughters and the wife that inspired his unconventional entrepreneurial journey. 

In this episode of Man Like, he talks about how love pushed him into becoming a hustler in university, the changes he’s experienced since he became a dad and why he’s scared to truly open up to the people around him. 

Tell me about the first time it struck you that you were now “a man”? 

In my second year of university, I decided to stop collecting pocket money from my parents. I had just started dating my wife and figured I needed to make my own money. I mean, how can I take money from my dad and spend it on my babe when he’s not the one dating her? 

Ah. So how did you make money? 

Making that decision to fend for myself was a defining moment for me and the origin of my entrepreneurial journey. I started a private tutorial business, and a couple of years later, I invested in plastic chairs and put them out for rent in collaboration with a friend of mine. 

Starting a business was new to me, but I did what I could and learnt on the job. 

An entrepreneur for love. God when? But I’m curious about your wife’s reaction at the time. 

I was a student with a business on the side making money. Of course she liked it. Plus, it got to a point where I ended up employing her as a private tutor too. Everyone needed extra cash so she took it. 

Didn’t all this work interfere with school? 

Mehn, it was hard. In my fifth year, classes started clashing with my tutorials and I had to make tough choices to follow the money. In all of this, I couldn’t leave school because I had come so far, but I also couldn’t leave my business because we had grown. I was juggling a lot, but I still managed to see everything through. 

What did your parents think about you running all these businesses in school? 

Their first reaction was, “You’re on your own.” LOL. But even after saying this, they still supported me. My mum donated her BlackBerry so I could market my products. When I started importing chocolate in my fourth year, my dad looked for people travelling overseas to help me bring the chocolate back to Nigeria. 

Aww. So what’s your relationship with your parents like? 

My parents are the best! My dad is as entrepreneurial as I am, so I enjoyed a mentor-mentee kind of relationship with him.  He is a brilliant entrepreneur with a life and struggle I could relate to and this made the mentorship process a lot more impactful for me. 

My mum on the other hand is a prayer warrior who has always supported me with prayers. She’s very invested in my education and wishes I was practising what I studied. Even though I’m married now with kids, she’s still trying to convince me to go for my masters. I can bet she’d go to church for thanksgiving If I told her I was leaving this entrepreneur life to use my degree. 

LOL. You mentioned that you’re a father now. How has fatherhood been treating you? 

It’s blissful. I have two daughters — one is four years-old, the other four months old. 

Fun fact: I always wanted a boy. But now that I have girls, I’m so happy because they are very cute. Growing up as a boy, I destroyed all my father’s gadgets. Thinking of having to reproduce myself as a little boy scares me. But with girls, I have peace of mind; their wahala doesn’t come close to that of boys.

Did anything prepare you for fatherhood?

I don’t think anybody fully prepares for parenting. Being a dad is sweet, but sometimes you’ll feel the urge to get rid of the kids, just dump them somewhere if you have the opportunity. People always say that fatherhood doesn’t really dawn on you until you hear your baby call you daddy for the first time. They were right, because that’s when you truly realise that this is a human being you’re responsible for. 

What has been the most challenging part of fatherhood for you? 

My four month-old daughter always wakes up in the middle of the night and insists that you carry her standing upright. Newborns are good at manipulating and strong-arming you into doing what they want. I’ve noticed my daughter smiles after crying and forcing you to stand up. It’s all a trap. LOL. Then there’s the staying awake to make sure they’re sleeping fine. That one is still standard procedure.

But how has being a father changed you as a person?

A lot has changed. Fatherhood has taught me that I can’t be selfish. I can’t make decisions without considering my family. It trickles down to the little things like buying shawarma. There’s a part of me that just wants to take it home so we can all share. My life is for them and this is something I never experienced when I didn’t have children. 

I’m jotting things down. What lessons would you like your kids to learn from you? 

Because I have daughters, my goal is to be the model of an ideal man. My girls should be able to look at me and the way I treat my wife and say, “This is the kind of man I want to marry.” I treat them like queens because I don’t want them to ever expect less from their friendships or relationships. 

Does anything scare you more now that you’re a dad? 

The way I look at it now, my children are currently under my protection. They’re still young, so I can guide them and make sure they’re okay. But what happens when I can’t do this anymore? As much as I want them to develop independence, as a parent, I’m still scared of what could happen if they ended up with the wrong crowd. I’d like to protect them forever, but I know it’s not realistic. 

Mehn, it’s not easy being a dad o! 

LMAO. It’s not. 

Looking at the way you were brought up, what would you like to change when it comes to parenting your kids? 

I grew up around a lot of criticism of other people and their choices. This wasn’t something from my parents, rather, it was a church thing. I remember my church literally used to criticise other churches during service. I think it’s wrong. While I’ll inculcate into my children as many values as they’ll need to navigate the world, I also want them to be able to make their own choices independent of me or my beliefs. I want them to be independent and think critically. I’m not all-knowing, so they’ll need to trust their instincts. 

You’ve spoken a lot about running businesses and being a family man which makes you a rock for so many people. Knowing this, I’m curious to know who you lean on when things are hard? 

Me. I tend to rely on myself and do whatever I can to fix my issues myself. Oftentimes, my wife notices and starts probing so I open up to her. But to be honest, I’m not great at opening up or going to other people for help or advice. 

That must be tough. Why, though? 

Information is power. The more information someone has about you, the more power they wield over you. I am very careful about sharing personal information. The less you know about me, the less you can hurt me. If I let you know things about me, I’m enabling you. 

Damn. But has someone ever used something you told them in confidence as a weapon to attack you?  

Funny enough, no. The only instance I can remember is childish and happened way back in secondary school. I told my friend I liked a girl, and then this guy went after her himself. It’s funny when I think of it. But other than this, nothing else. 

It’s the drama for me. Nigeria is hard, so what gives you joy these days? 

My family. My family is my source of joy. Having a four year-old run up to me with a very big smile, saying, “Daddy!” It just rewards all the hard work I do. Having to pick up my wife from work and see her smiling at me, even though it’s not all the time, also gives me joy. Everything else is a disappointment, from one level to another.  

So now that you have given me baby fever, what advice would you give me? 

Who gave you baby fever? Please, think about the cost of diapers, the cost of living and the cost of everything o! Me I’m already inside all of it, but you, omo, goodluck. 

Wow. Thank you sha. 

What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.

Terna Iwar has always been an elusive figure in Abuja’s burgeoning creative community. As a photographer and creative director, his work has been featured on i-D Magazine, Guardian UK and the New York Times. But years ago, alongside his brothers — Suté and Tay — Terna started what would later become a movement that became an important part what’s known as alté culture today: Bantu Collective. The label/creative space grew into a haven for creative misfits in Abuja catering to artists like Lady Donli, AYLØ and Terna’s brothers. 

It wasn’t long until their unusual sounds reached Lagos, influencing other artists like Odunsi the Engine, Cruel Santino and Wavy The Creator. “I grew up isolated with my artistic leanings, but I knew there were a lot of people like me in Abuja, who were also unsure of what they wanted to do or how to approach their talents. Creating this space felt right,” he says. 

Now, with the alternative movement influencing global pop culture, Terna sits with Zikoko for a different conversation, focusing on his views on masculinity. In this episode of Man Like, he talks about how moving to Lagos changed his life trajectory, his concerns about how people view masculinity today and why he made a major career switch from Business Computing to photography and art direction.

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Let’s talk about growing up. What was that like? 

My dad was a police officer, which meant my family moved around a lot. I was born in Jos, spent my baby years in Markudi, moved to Lagos when I was seven years old and camped there for 10 years. 

Lagos felt very interesting: there was this sense of being out of place, yet knowing it’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.. We left Markudi, which felt like a safe playground at the time, and landed in a city that was fast-paced and dangerous. How dangerous? We lived in a government estate and the army came to kick us out.

Ahh. How did we get here? 

LOL. This happened when I was 14. The gist was that Obasanjo sold 1004, which was a government estate at the time, and they evicted everyone without creating a plan for where we were supposed to move to. Being evicted in that way and from that particular estate was a lot to process because this was a community where we all knew each other one way or the other, and the next thing, the army was kicking down doors asking us to leave. We eventually moved to Yaba and stayed with my uncle for a bit before we got a place of our own down the line. 

How did this event and constantly moving affect yourself and your family? 

I was too young to note how it affected me. But looking back, I know there aren’t that many people from my childhood that I’m still friends with today. It’s less than a handful. For my family, upheaval has always been part of the Nigerian lifestyle, so we just did our best not to dwell on it. I’m sure it had a ripple effect on us considering we were homeless and living with someone else at the time, but it could’ve been worse. 

Damn. Through all of this, was there another moment from your childhood that also had a major impact on your life? 

I’ve had plenty, but I’m not sure which one I should give. A dark or fluffy story?

The dark one!

LOL. Okay. Let me tell you about the time my school got burnt down and I had to hide in the ceiling. 

Oh shit. Okay, let’s do the fluffy story.

LOL. Too late. So in the very first year of my time in secondary school — I was 11 — the final year students fought with the teachers and decided to burn down the school’s administrative block. I had to hide in the ceiling of the boy’s hostel for my safety. 

Sorry? 

It felt like a movie.  Everything that followed was a bit fuzzy for me now, and I think that’s how I coped with the experience. I remember changing schools, going back home and only being able to eat cold boarding school style food for a long time. I was living like a savage, eating cold noodles and eba and concoction soups. I eventually got adjusted. 

Omo. This has me thinking, when did it hit that you were “a man”? 

I don’t know how it works for other people, but I never had one moment. There have been different points for sure: when I started driving and was picking my siblings from school, or my first job or my first rented apartment. Or maybe the time I had a pregnancy scare and I really had to sit and seriously contemplate fatherhood. However, I don’t think it’s a one-moment thing for me because even now, I’m still learning. It’s not stagnant.

In your learning process, what’s one lesson that has stuck with you? 

I’ve learnt that my emotions are not my enemy. It’s the biggest lesson I’ve learnt over the years. 

What did you have to unlearn? 

That being stoic doesn’t always give the results you hope for. Being stoic creates space for you to deny the totality of who you are as a man and as a human being. We are all thinking and feeling creatures, and for the longest time, I fell into this stereotype of suppressing my emotional range. When I would feel angry, I would put a tight leash on my anger. But sometimes, you just have to be angry. 

Being stoic can be useful and will carry you through a lot of tough times, but you know what they say about too much of anything…

How has this lesson come in handy in your day-to-day life? 

It helps in moments where I have anxiety. Ordinarily, I’d just shut it down and compartmentalise, but more recently, I try to sit down with it and figure out where it’s coming from. By the time I figure that out, I’m no longer anxious. 

Nice. For you, what would you say is the scariest part about navigating masculinity in Nigeria?

The scariest part is that everyone has different ideas about what masculinity should be, and it becomes a thing when you don’t fit into this idea someone else has created. 

I liked being in the kitchen a lot when I was younger because I liked cooking. I remember an uncle visiting at the time made it his job to point out that boys were not supposed to be in the kitchen. Even at that age, I knew it was bullshit. 

I also think that we’re a traumatised nation and that also affects how masculinity manifests itself and is talked about. We live in a country where governance and economic systems are failing, you add that to the many social issues we have and it becomes a potent cocktail for rewarding bad behaviour. A lot of the ways we are raised as Nigerian men doesn’t allow for reflection, healing and reconciliation.   

Do you think as Nigerian men, we have evolved with the times? 

Hmmmm.What a lot of men hold up as the pinnacle of masculinity; always being strong, holding everything together etc, hold us back from not just re-examining what being a man is, but also what it could be. 

I think most women are very aware of not just what they are in society but where they could be. It’s very powerful. Nobody  grows without honest reflection.

You talk about “re-examining what masculinity could be”. What are the possibilities for you? 

For me, I want to be healthy — physically and mentally. I’ve learnt that hurt people hurt people. If you’ve been traumatised your whole life, whether you’re a guy or girl, not passing that trauma on takes a lot of work. 

This makes sense. Do you mind telling me how you process trauma? 

Introspection, meditation, journalling, affirmations and facing my problems instead of running from them. The journalling part is important for me because it can be meditative, introspective and provide a platform to work through thorny problems for me. Be sure to keep people around you to keep you grounded. That helps too. 

Thank you for that. Talking about journeys, I’m curious about your creative story? 

Growing up, I was attracted to both the sciences and the arts. Even though I did a lot of sciences up to the university level, I always tried to explore my artistic side: writing, drawing, sculpting, clay work and music.

I picked up photography in university. It allowed me to tap into both my scientific and artistic inclinations. For the science part, you need to know about angles, light, weather, the technicalities of the camera itself, etcetera. On the art end, you’re producing something visually pleasing, and hopefully, if you put a lot of thought into it, people see it and it sparks something. I also did a bit of graphic and website design when I was in school. 

How did you manage everything with school? 

Did I manage? That’s the question. LOL. I’ve never particularly been enthused with school. The first time I actually had a good time when it came to school was when I left university after studying Business Computing and Digital Media to go to Art School for photography. I try not to keep that many regrets, but a minor regret of mine was not pursuing art from the jump. 

How did your parents take this career pivot? 

They were not happy, but they’re also not the type to not stand in your way once you can prove you’ve done the homework and are determined.

Cool. So what projects are you working on for the new year?

Well, first I guess it would be to put out more work. A lot of people would say I’m incognito on social media. This year I want to share more of my work. I also have several personal projects I’m working through.

Nice. Can’t wait to see them!