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Artistes are stepping up and sharing personal experiences about mental health, which is bringing the topic into the spotlight and inspiring others to open up too.
June is men’s mental health month and though it may come as news to some men, we hope it becomes a normalised culture that won’t need reminder at its time. Here are a few deep-cut songs,with themes around mental health that men should listen to.
Trigger Warning: there are mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts.
Duade — Show Dem Camp ft. Cina Soul
In 2019, SDC released its classic album, Clone Wars IV: These Buhari Times; an audio-documentary of the Nigerian political, cultural and mental ecosystem. The fourth track, Duade, (featuring Ghanaian singer-songwriter Cina Soul,) explores the topic of masculinity and depression. Tec opens the song with a message about how men in this part of the world don’t have an outlet to talk and often grow up thinking it’s wrong to express themselves emotionally or be vulnerable.
A Self Evaluation of Yxng Dxnzl — M.I Abaga ft. Niyola
This song starts with a voice note of M.I’s mum telling him to always do the right things and not forget where he comes from and. But all M.I wants to do is “drink, fuck, smoke, chill, party all day still,” with an admission that he’s been battling a deep depression and can be the worst guy sometimes.
This song comes from his most vulnerable piece of art, Yxng Dxnzl (A Study on Self Evaluation). Across the ten-track album, listeners experience the rapper at his most human and honest form, tying mental health awareness with his personal journey, insecurities and short samples of his therapy sessions at the end of each song.
Wetin We Gain — Victor AD
Wetin We Gain was of the biggest hits of 2018. Apart from its catchy chorus and relatability, different meanings (like quick wealth and internet scams) have been attached to the song, in opposition to its actual message; a cry to the heavens for a breakthrough. But it’s even deeper. The most memorable lines of the song expresses the daily fear of average Nigerian men, who feel pressure to be the breadwinners of their families.
I’m A Mess — Omah Lay
After his latest release, Boy Alone Deluxe, we can all agree Omah Lay is the current Nigerian poster boy for vulnerability and emotional travails. On I’m A Mess, he deeply expresses his broken heart, sadness, and finding escape in liquor. Baring age and gender, everyone can relate to this song due simplicity, both in production and lyricism.
It’s Okay To Cry — Yinka Bernie ft. Joyce Olong
Nigerian multidisciplinary artist Yinka Bernie accurately describes the feeling of being stuck; an experience that a lot people today can relate to, on Joyce Olong-assisted It’s Okay To Cry. Inspired by personal experiences which made Bernie doubt his music career; he soothes listeners with an encouraging message of hope and the acceptance of vulnerability “it’s okay to cry, it’s okay to feel lost inside.” This song feels like reassurance in audio form.
Alpha Ojini’s Tears Are Salty For A Reason EP is filled with deep cuts tracks of vulnerability, but Odeshi explores masculinity and mental health profoundly. Ogranya lays a chorus that expresses bottling up tears and other emotions, and Alpha details struggling with mom’s demise and the ‘manly’ approach his tough dad gave him to deal with the long-time grief. All of this is coupled with the mental stress of surviving Nigeria and an ex serving him breakfast. Ogranya ends the song with “I go still commit” which translates to taking one’s own life; an expression of the last resort if the darkness doesn’t stop hovering over him. It’s a powerful record that reminds one why mental health is important and issues shouldn’t be bottled.
A Song About Suicide (Mr. Babalawo Reprise) — PayBac iBoro
Nigerian rapper PayBac iBoro has been a big advocate of mental health since he made an official entry into the Nigeria music industry in 2015. On his 2018 album, The Biggest Tree (his present to all depressed West African kids), is A Song About Suicide. PayBac expresses strong suicidal thoughts and his final wishes after he’s gone, over a dark fusion of Afrobeats, African percussion, trumpets sounds — all instruments you’d find at interments. Overall, the song is based on his fight to hold tightly to life and his beloved family and friends.
Dance In The Rain — 2face Idibia
This is one of 2Baba’s greatest recordings. A record that pushes a message of deep appreciation for life and enjoying it, taking every breath of air, being present in the moment and staying open to possibilities. In a period like this, this song is a good refresher and great reminder to chin up and stay positive.
How Bad Could It Be — Burna Boy
Off of Burna Boy’s 2022 album Love, Damini, this song opens with the voices of U.K singer Jorja Smith, Nigerian boxer Kamaru Usman, dropping statements about self-control; and making rational decisions during intense situations. Burna Boy glides on the guitar and laid-back beat that accompanies it, singing about the punctures of anxiety and dreadful feeling of searching for answers in the wrong places.
take a break — Odunsi (The Engine)
Odunsi talks about his mom’s constant complaints about his absence from home. But she needs to understand he’s been busy working hard to achieve success and make her proud. If he’s not making things happen for himself, who else will? These are some of the mentally-challenging situations inspired by his personal experience, the song encourages resting and recharging to avoid burnout.
From battling with traffic to hustling for fuel in long queues, Nigeria is definitely not for the faint-hearted. This is why the government needs to take our mental health seriously.
If you’ve ever wondered how seriously the government is taking the issue of our mental health, here’s what we know.
Nigeria’s current mental health law is six decades old
Nigeria enacted its first mental health legislation, the Lunacy Ordinance, in 1916. The law was then revised in 1958 to include the imprisonment of mentally ill people. However, it’s sad to see that after six decades, nothing has changed about how Nigeria engages with mental health issues.
There have been many failed attempts
The National Assembly introduced a Mental Health Bill in 2003 but dropped it after six years of no progress. A new bill was introduced in 2013 as part of the National Policy for Mental Health Services Delivery. The aim was to establish the foundations for delivering care to people with mental, neurological, and substance addiction difficulties. Again, this bill failed to pass.
The latest mental health bill was introduced in the National Assembly in 2021 and has been passed. But President Buhari needs to sign it before it becomes law. We can only hope that this doesn’t end up in the dustbin as well.
Nigeria desperately needs this new law to pass
Mental health care in Nigeria is a catastrophe. Approximately 80% of Nigerians with mental health needs cannot access care due to factors like lack of funds, facilities, personnel, and even cultural and religious superstitions about mental health. The common solutions for mental illnesses are almost always spiritual remedies.
Just like everything in Nigeria that has nothing to do with the enjoyment of politicians, mental health care is also highly underfunded. The mental health budget is roughly 3.3% to 4% of GDP, with over 90% going to a few neuropsychiatric hospitals. It also doesn’t help that the primary funding for these hospitals are from the government’s health budget.
Mental health patients are also not spared. A 2019 report by Human Rights Watch (HRW) noted that thousands of mental health patients face prolonged detention, physical and sexual violence, or forced treatment, including electroshock therapy.
If there was ever a time to update Nigeria’s mental health policies to reflect that we’re in the 21st century, it’s now.
Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here.
This week’s #ZikokoWhatSheSaid subject is a 43-year-old Nigerian woman. She talks about finding peace after her mother’s death, living with two bipolar brothers and escaping toxicity through classic books and films.
What makes you happy right now?
My published books, blogs and fan fiction. I haven’t made much money from them, but getting readers’ feedback makes me feel better about my self-worth. My mum died a week before my 40th birthday and my mind closed off. I couldn’t function. It wasn’t just the shock of her death, I also felt she died disappointed in me. I’m her only child who didn’t give her grandchildren or get married. A lot was left unsaid between us.
Like what?
She wasn’t always fair to me. Islam teaches us to accept the will of Allah, but I wish I focused more on her counsel than worrying about criticism from her. My brother’s wife told me something that gave me some closure. She said they often discussed me when I was at work and my mother would say she was proud of me. I wish she’d said things like that to me. I miss her very much, and I still feel sad when I think of her.
I’m sorry. How do you feel about not being married now?
Well, I never imagined I’d be single at 40, but I don’t mind it at all. I don’t want to be under a man who will tell me what to do or I’d need permission from. As a single woman, I’m not pressured to meet a husband’s expectations. I’m my own person.
What gives you this impression about marriage?
I’ve personally not experienced many healthy ones. My brother and his family live with me, and he has bipolar disorder. He’s on medication, but he’s not easy to live with. I sympathise with his wife but get angry and frustrated during his episodes. I always have to remind myself he’s mentally ill, yet sometimes, I feel he uses it to justify his general selfishness and superiority over his wife especially. Most times, I avoid him so his antics won’t get me down, but she can’t.
How do you manage your own mental health?
I focus on my hobbies. I read and watch classics, and write mostly to tune out the negativity. Sometimes, I just go out. I considered therapy but decided not to because I’m terrified of the possibility of needing meds.
I had panic attacks up until about 2010 because of my teaching job. I hid the attacks from my mum, who was already dealing with my younger brothers. Both of them are bipolar; I couldn’t add my issues. It was a horrible feeling, and I’m still prone to anxiety now and then. I don’t want a psychiatrist to detect it and say I should take meds. Then I’ll be unable to function without them. I want to be in control of my life without meds.
Fair enough. What was it like growing up with two bipolar brothers?
Their condition was undetected until they were both in university. But it’s not been easy. I never know when they might have an episode. The younger one takes his meds but won’t stop taking caffeine. He’s more bearable than the older one, but sometimes, he’s unreasonable. I resent the older one more because he’s done many things I can’t forgive him for. I generally try to avoid them.
Tell me about the hobbies that help you tune out negativity
I’ve loved classic books and films since I was a child. I have my late father to thank for that. He was a voracious reader who wanted his children to improve their vocabulary. He’d buy us books on our birthdays and let us read from his collection. Reading and writing fill me with fond memories of him.
That must be nice
He was still a strict father, though. Because of his temper and how he was set in his ways, I was afraid to cross him.
Where did your love for classic films come in?
As a child, NTA 5 aired BBC adaptations of classics like “Jane Eyre” (my favourite book), “Little Women” (my second favourite) and “Oliver Twist”. It made me love the classics even more. I also grew up watching great films like “The Sound of Music”, “The Thief of Baghdad” and “My Fair Lady”.
After reading about the history of motion pictures in an encyclopaedia in JSS 2, I wanted to watch all the films mentioned in it. Over the years, I’ve been able to. I especially enjoyed the film noirs. I love the feeling of entering another era, and it’s been helpful now when I need to escape. Today’s films, most of which are remakes of the classics, just don’t compare.
How did you transition to actually writing your own stuff?
The more books I read, and films I watched, the more I longed to create my own stories. But I didn’t consider actually writing until I started reading Enid Blyton’s books, my first inspiration to write children’s stories. I was about eight when my father bought one for me, “The Three Wishes, and other stories”. I think I was 15, when I first wrote anything. It was a three-stanza poem about the sea, and I sadly no longer have a copy. My first two books were published by Lantern Books.
How did that go?
It’s not easy to write for kids because you have to learn what they like, how they think, and keep the language simple. I submitted a manuscript of ten children’s stories in 2003. They were published in 2006 as two separate books. I was so happy when the physical copies were placed in my hands. But my third book wasn’t published till late 2018.
Have you written anything for film?
My first attempt at a film script was when I was at Federal College of Education (FCE), Osiele, Abeokuta. I showed it to a friend, but while he said it was well-written, he thought it was controversial because it talked about cultism. I haven’t made a second attempt.
Would you still offer it for adaptation to film one day?
I pray so. It would the pinnacle of my writing career.
And your romantic life so far?
I’ve only been in three brief relationships, and they all happened when I was 19. In fact, I would hardly call them “relationships”. I’m ashamed of the first and third because I thought I was in love. The second, I knew, was real, but I was too immature to handle it well. I haven’t tried again since.
I really don’t want to talk about it; all three were humiliating mistakes. I’ve forgotten the whole thing and moved on with my life, happily single.
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One of the most relatable tweets I’ve seen recently is the one where the person said ADHD is the new OCD because people are self-diagnosing and treating it like a personality trait.
It’s easy to cherry-pick a relatable symptom of a medical condition, and say you have that condition. A lot of people do it. But with ADHD, it’s much deeper. ADHD isn’t just forgetting things, getting distracted easily, or being hyper. It’s a neurodevelopmental disorder. It’s a disorder because it affects an individual’s functioning one way or the other — socially, occupationally, or just generally in life.
As someone with ADHD, I know from experience the extent to which the disorder can disrupt your life. But before I get into that, I’d like to quickly —in the simplest way possible —explain ADHD to you from a professional’s explanation.
Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is a disorder that consists of a combination of persistent problems, such as difficulty sustaining attention, hyperactivity, and impulsive behaviour. There are three types of ADHD —inattentive, hyperactive or impulsive, and a combination of both.
Inattentive ADHD
Inattentive ADHD isn’t what most people picture when they think of ADHD. People with inattentive ADHD have trouble staying focused, get distracted easily, and make “careless” mistakes because they have trouble paying attention to details. They also have trouble organising or finishing things. There are nine symptoms of this type of ADHD:
Lack of attention to details
Difficulty following instructions
Frequent daydreaming
Difficulty sustaining mental effort
Often misplacing things
Short attention span
Forgetfulness
Trouble staying focused
Difficulty following through on instructions or tasks
People with hyperactive-impulsive ADHD have trouble staying still. They often squirm, fidget, and they hardly ever seem to slow down. They feel the need for constant movement, and they struggle to stay seated.
The nine symptoms of hyperactive-impulsive ADHD include:
Inability to sit still
Constant fidgeting
Often on the go, acting as if driven by a motor
Excessive physical movement
Excessive talking
Impulsiveness
Difficulty waiting or taking turns
Frequent interruptions during conversations
Blurting out answers out of turn
If a person has the combination type of ADHD, it means that their symptoms don’t exclusively fall within the inattention or hyperactive-impulsive behaviour. They exhibit a combination of symptoms from both types.
An Important thing to note:
This is where it kind of gets interesting, Being diagnosed with ADHD goes beyond just the symptoms. There are certain conditions that have to be met. :
If you’re younger than 17 years, you have to present at least six of these symptoms. If you’re older than 17 years, you need to present at least five of the symptoms.
Several of these symptoms have to be consistently present for at least 6 months.
Several of the symptoms have to be present in two or more settings — at home, school, or work, with friends, relatives, etc.
Several of these symptoms were present before the age of 12 years.
There is evidence that the symptoms interfere with your quality of life.
My struggle with ADHD
Trust me, ADHD isn’t cool. It isn’t a fun, quirky thing to have. It’s a serious disorder that can affect your life. I have inattentive ADHD, which means I struggle with staying focused. As someone with a professional life, this is a problem.
I do a lot of my work at the last minute. A lot of the time, this happens because I get distracted while working. When I say I get distracted, I mean, I pick up my phone every five minutes. I mean, I fall into rabbit holes quite often and struggle to get out. I mean that the longest time I can stay focused on a task is ten minutes before I get bored, overwhelmed, or distracted by something random, or before I start daydreaming. Sometimes, the reason I leave things until the last minute is that the fast-approaching deadline and the immediacy of the negative consequences that will follow if the deadline isn’t met, help me focus and complete the task.
I also struggle with inattention to detail. As a writer, you can imagine how bad that sounds. Many times I’ve been seen as careless, stubborn and lazy because it seemed like I just didn’t want to get better at my work, or I didn’t want to work at all, when the truth is, I’m trying really hard.
These are some of my basic daily struggles. I can go on and tell you about how I get overwhelmed by a simple to-do list. Or how I sometimes get ADHD task paralysis, which is when I desperately need to get started on something, but everything in me resists it. There’s so much I go through that I wish I could tell you, but we won’t leave here.
Image credit: The ADHD Coach
The struggles of someone with hyperactive-impulsive ADHD
I spoke with someone diagnosed with hyperactive-impulsive ADHD, and she told me about how one of the major struggles she has is how fast she loses interest in things. She’d get excited about certain ideas and projects in the beginning, but along the line, interest would fade and she’d move on to the next thing. And this also happens at work. “If I’m not working on a work task within ten minutes, I’m going to lose interest in it and forget about it. Writing to-do lists just sucks! They give me so much anxiety, and they make me not even want to start on any of the tasks I have to do”, says June. Sometimes, she has a million thoughts running through her head. Other times, she doesn’t have a single thought. “If I don’t make a decision on impulse, it becomes a whole thing where I keep forgetting or procrastinating, and it just becomes a whole mess.”
She also mentioned that she can’t sit in one place for more than ten minutes, and this affected her a lot in school, especially in class. Another thing she mentioned was how she’d make irrational decisions. “I’d be crazy tired, but when people hit me up to go partying, I’d immediately say yes without thinking. Stuff like this happens in every area of my life. It’s even worse when you’re feeling negative emotions. You have so much energy and so many emotions to release that you end up making irrational decisions that can affect you and your relationships. “
How can ADHD affect a person’s work-life?
One of the major struggles a lot of people with ADHD face is working with companies that aren’t educated about things like this. They end up working with employers who don’t understand what it means to have staff that has ADHD. People with ADHD then end up having to compete at the same level with people who aren’t going through what they’re going through, and working with bosses who don’t understand their condition. Many times, these bosses can’t seem to understand that people with ADHD might function differently than their colleagues.
People with ADHD can be seen as lazy, oppositional, disruptive, disorganised, annoying, disrespectful, careless, always making excuses, etc. And this happens because people don’t have the right education about ADHD.
Knowing if you have ADHD
The sad part is that there are people with ADHD who don’t know they have ADHD. If you can remotely relate to any of these things that have been said here, I suggest you get screened. I 100% recommend Nguvu Health. They recently released a free screening for people who suspect they have ADHD. All you have to do is download the app, sign up, click on “Free assessment,” scroll down to the Adult ADHD screening session, and begin your assessment. Once you take the assessment and your results show that there’s a chance you might have ADHD, you’ll have the option to speak to a therapist if you’d like to go further. It’s important that, as someone with ADHD, you get the necessary support and help you require, and this starts with therapy.
If you’d like to educate yourself about ADHD, either to help yourself or a friend, colleague, or employee, there are many resources online that can help you.
As Nigerian men, sharing or talking about how we feel is not something we’re all used to. For some, sharing comes easy. But for others, the boundaries are so thick that no one can come in. After this viral video dropped, we decided to ask some married Nigerian men what they thought about the video and who they talk to when the going gets tough — tif they talk at all.
Tola, 32
I talk to my mum a lot. Honestly, I think it’s lowkey unhealthy how close we are because if anything happens in my life — sexually, mentally, physically or otherwise, my mum is on speed dial like, “You won’t believe what just happened.” I’m glad she created that space for me to open up and it’s something that I don’t take for granted. It started when I was a child, and now it’s almost like a reflex move. I got married last year and while I’m close to my wife, my mum is still the first person I turn to when life gives me gbas-gbos. She has spoken to me about talking to my wife first and I’m trying my best, but I guess old habits are just hard to shake off.
Jesse, 29
I have a rule: If I can’t solve it, there’s no need involving anyone else. It may sound harsh, but I grew up as an only child and didn’t get to talk to a lot of people. It helped me be introspective in a way I fully understand how my mind works. When I feel a certain way, I analyse the situation and try to trace the cause. A lot of girls I dated back then have found it weird but my wife gets it and gives me space when I need it. She also knows I’m there to help with her problems when she needs someone to talk to. I’m just not wired the same way. It’s not effective 100% of the time, but nothing ever is.
EL, 29
I watched that video and found it weird. Yes, men find it hard to show their emotions, but some of these guys sounded proud of the fact that they had no one to call. Why? It’s a shitty thing and not some cool accomplishment. I don’t think I’m better, but I’ve developed a sort of openness with the people in my life that I have multiple people to talk to when things get rough. I have my wife, male and female friends, co-workers, family members and even exes I can call depending on what’s going on. Most guys hide behind the assumption that they have no one to talk to, but really, have you even tried talking to anyone before?
Ifeanyi, 33
I have the best female friends a guy could ever ask for. Being an effeminate queer man, I’ve always gravitated towards women and I’m not ashamed of it. Over the years, they’ve shown up for me more times than I can count. They were the first set of people I came out to, even though you would have to be blind not to have known. They supported and stood by me when I was kitoed and had to escape to the UK. Even though I’m married now, my husband knows that when I’m struggling, my girls are number one on my call list. He knows there’s history and he understands. I also know it’s quite uncommon and straight women can also be dangerous when it comes to weaponising queer people’s queerness against them, but for now, I’m content with my tribe.
Treasure, 30
I’ve always been quiet and reserved so communication has never been my strong suit. I started therapy about two years ago before I got married and I think it has helped me open up more to my wife. While I tend to tell her things I’ve already spoken to my therapist about, I think I’m on the right track. But I can’t deny the fact that I feel more comfortable with a therapist. There’s something easier talking to someone who doesn’t know you, once a week. With my wife, I see her every day when I wake up and before I go to sleep. If I tell her some of the things I tell my therapist, I’m scared she’ll never look at me the same way again.
Obioma, 28
This is why I have my guys. We try to go out at least once a week and even though we tend to end our nights in the club, the first few hours after we link up post-work, is focused on just catching up. If anyone has a problem, we put our heads together and look for a solution or simply check for how we can make them feel better. As men, we’ve created this prison for ourselves and it’s unnecessary — you think people are watching you for signs of weakness but it’s all in your head. I saw it happen with my dad and how he just shut out everyone. And now, no one knows how to talk to him. I don’t want to repeat that. Even if I can’t talk to my wife, at least she knows I’m not bottling everything in.
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.
Today’s Man Like is Yemi Davis, an art director, 3D designer and all-round baby boy. He has been known to collaborate on multiple projects with international brands like British Telecom, USAID, Georgetown University and First Bank, as he continues to explore the unique intersection between art and technology.
In this episode of Man Like, he talks about developing a thick skin after being bullied because of his albinism, growing up as a true omo pastor, how math stopped him from studying robotics and the mental health concern that drove him to therapy.
So Yemi, tell me, what was growing up like?
Growing up was interesting. I’ve got albinism, and when I was younger, I was bullied and called all sorts of names like afin, oyinbo or yellow man. It would annoy the hell out of me. I was also a cry baby so once I heard these names, serious gnashing of teeth. My parents would tell me that these people didn’t know better and crying all the time was not a practical solution. I eventually learnt how to be comfortable with my skin enough to drown out everybody else and their opinions.
I’m curious as to how you found this confidence.
A lot of what I’ve said happened in primary school, but I think I started discovering my confidence halfway through secondary school. This doesn’t mean I wasn’t bullied, I just found a way to trick myself into not thinking too much about it. Plus, there were a lot more pressing issues I needed to focus on.
What other pressing issues again?
So I was absolutely terrible at schoolwork. Fun fact, I failed the math section of my GSCE twice. You know the usual grades are like “A” through to “F”? Well, I got a “U”, which is worse than an “F”. It literally means ungraded, like it wasn’t worth being graded. You might as well not have written anything on the exam paper. How I got into university was a miracle.
The only subjects I was good at were ICT, English and Fine Art. Everything else, zero. My teachers kept telling me there was no way I could make it on just those three subjects, but I already sort of knew the trajectory I wanted my life and career to take. Thankfully, it was in line with the subjects I was good at.
You already knew what you wanted to do with your life in secondary school? Must be nice.
I mean at the time I wanted to study robotics.
Say what now?
I know right. A lot of people didn’t even know what it was at the time. Even my physics teacher was confused. To quote that song, “No one knows what it is, but it’s provocative. It gets the people going.”
So Tony Stark, did you do the robotics thing?
The first time I wrote the GSCEs, I went with my dad to collect the result and as soon as we got there, I knew I had failed. I did well, generally, but math was just my problem. My dad was the first one to see the result and I could smell the disappointment in the air. So basically I had to redo it again and this time, I realised that the sciences were not for me. I loved tech and art, so I had to figure out a way to combine both. I was looking through university brochures and found a course called Graphic Design and New Media, which basically combined the things I love. I looked through the requirements, wrote the second exam and even though I failed math again, I scaled through and got into university. Now, I’m a graduate working as an art director and 3D designer.
Whew. I hate to take you back, but how did the bullying you experienced affect you?
Getting bullied has been a somewhat good and bad experience for me. Good because I now have restraint for certain situations and can handle myself when I’m upset. But at the same time, things that should make me upset tend to just fly over my head. So it’s either I don’t react or I fail to react with the level of intensity I should.
Are there any scenarios you’d like to share?
So when I found out I got a 2:2 for my bachelors, I didn’t feel too bad about it. If anything, it further reinforced the fact that I’m not the best at academics, which honestly, I had come to terms with. Would it have been nice to get a better grade? Yes. But the people who truly mattered (my family) were okay with it and that’s all that mattered.
Normally, I’d be upset about something like that, but what I had gone through turned me into one of those “carpe diem” types of people, so I just try to enjoy the moment and avoid letting negative things get to me, especially when they’re beyond my control.
Wow. But how does this affect your relationship with people?
So I started seeing a therapist when I was in university abroad. I would say I’ve improved quite a bit since that time and now I’m better at feeling things.
As men, we rarely talk about our mental health so I’m intrigued as to what inspired your decision to seek therapy.
When I got to university in the UK, everything felt unreal. There were certain times at night where I felt like I was observing myself from outside my own body and genuinely thought I was losing my mind. I used to run to my friends house because I was scared. I later found this toll free number on campus you could call in when you’re feeling depressed or suicidal. I reached out to them and they suggested I see a therapist who diagnosed me with Depersonalisation Disorder.
Getting this diagnosis helped me really understand what I was going through because while I had been to England frequently as a child, this was my first time here alone and I was just 18 years old. The disorder happens to people when they are placed in places foreign to them and at the time, England was a strange place for me. It was this new environment that was cold as fuck with so many white people in one place. I assumed I had everything under control and I was handling the move well, but apparently I was not. Over time, all my suppressed emotions eventually bubbled up to the surface.
Omo.
First day at therapy, and I didn’t know when I started crying. Big man like me? I hadn’t cried in years, and I was just there bawling my eyes out. I remember my therapist telling me it was normal to cry. It was a nice opportunity to be vulnerable and also understand that it’s okay to be that open and honest.
How long were you in therapy for?
About two months.
When did you realise you didn’t need it anymore?
So it wasn’t two months back to back, but more like two months worth of therapy spread over a longer period. I stopped going in my second year of university because I felt like I had found my footing.
Have you ever felt the need to go back?
Yes. I probably will, but I’ve been putting it off. Right now, I’m focused on work. I’ve been having this creative block and my head just feels clogged up. I’m sure it’s due to emotions or feelings I haven’t dealt with. I’ll go back soon.
You’ve spoken about being bullied in Nigeria. What was your experience like in the UK?
Much better. I was intentional about having a fresh start and getting to experience other cultures and people. I had friends from all over, and I remember we had this thing where about six of us from different countries would hang out in a flat and basically make food from our different countries. That’s how I got to try sadza, which is like Fufu from Zimbabwe. It was a nice experience.
See enjoyment.
LOL. Then again, I had some people calling me “Yam” instead of Yemi. I mean, it’s a four letter word. How hard could it be?
Screaming. Have you ever had a “I’m a man now” moment?
That would be when I had to move out of the school dormitory and look for a place of my own after my first year in university. Damn. House hunting was not fun. It was crazy because I was still a stranger in this country, but I had to go get a place, sort out guarantors and sign a lease. It was tedious and made me realise that I was no longer a kid. I had moved from my parents’ house to a dorm and now I had to get a house where all the responsibilities fell on my head. My parents supported with rent, but they still had their own shit in Nigeria, so I eventually got a job to supplement for months when I didn’t get money from them.
What job did you get?
I remember my first job was with Dominos. I didn’t work in the main shop; instead, they made me dress up in a pizza box and just dance on the streets for like five or six hours.
This visual is killing me. Your current career path isn’t the most conventional. How did you sell it to your parents?
They didn’t respond to it badly because even as a child, my dad had a printing press and I used to kick it with the designers. I remember I was already panicking and thinking about how I would convince them, but they were like, “If you’ve prayed about it and it’s what God wants you to do, then fine.”
Awww. So are your parents religious?
Ahhhhhhh. Both my parents are ministers in church.
So you’re like a real omo pastor?
Yeah. When we were younger, we had to go to church. It wasn’t even a question. There was no “My tummy is paining me” or “I have a headache”. As long as you could physically walk, you would be in church. It was interesting and annoying because while everyone left after service, my family would stay back for hundreds of meetings. Church closed at 12 p.m., but we would be there till about 4 p.m. Also, as ministers, my parents got transferred a couple of times, and I didn’t always like the new church.
How did all this moving around affect you?
I missed my friends. We would move to a church, I would make friends and then we would move again. Honestly, it was chaotic. I was able to still keep in touch with some of them via Facebook and BBM because at that time, I wasn’t allowed to go out often.
Why weren’t you going out?
For the most part I didn’t do much going out other than the cinema or to see my friends, and even with these hangouts, I had to book an appointment with my dad days ahead and tell him whose house I was going to and how long I’d be there for. Even after all of this, he would still find a way to scatter everything on that day. That’s why when I got my freedom in university, I went out and did the most. Now my eye don tear.
LOL. Now that you’re a proper adult, what’s your relationship with your parents like?
We’re pretty good now. My dad supports my endeavors, while my mum is the person I go to when it comes to discussing intimate things.
Cool. Talking about spicy intimate things, what’s the dating scene like for you?
Honestly, I’m just being a baby boy, chilling and hanging out with people. My last relationship during the pandemic and she was absolutely wonderful. After that, I just decided to take out time for myself to heal, but now I’m at the point where I can try again.
If you don’t mind me asking, why did it end?
It wasn’t anything crazy, but it’s between the both of us, so I’d rather not get into it.
Fair. So Yemi has entered the streets?
Yes o.
But more specifically, has your albinism affected your dating life?
Honestly… I don’t think it has.
Great. So it’s a new year, what are you excited about?
I definitely want to put out a lot more personal projects this year. Last year was focused on client work, and I didnt get enough time to explore my personal ideas. I also want to put myself out there this year. People always say they don’t know what I look like, and now I’m posting more pictures so they can finally see my face.
On 1st December 2021, Nigerians were shocked by the gruesome death of 12-year-old Sylvester Oromoni, a student of Dowen College, caused by bullying. Reigniting a conversation about a problem that has become normalised over time, Nigerians have demanded justice, not just for Sylvester, but for other students suffering in schools across the country.
With bullying becoming a recurring conversation in the Nigerian space, we spoke to seven Nigerian men on their different experiences as either victims or bullies themselves.
Tobi, 31
Over the past few years, I’ve tried my best to block out what I went through, but seeing the news lately has been triggering. I was bullied for most of my junior years in secondary school. I remember begging my parents to take me out, but that was a legacy school for my family and if my elder brothers could bear it, why couldn’t I just “rise above”? I still haven’t forgiven them for this and I think they know it.
Unfortunately, by the time I became a senior, I turned into what I hated. I don’t think it was on purpose, but it’s not an excuse. I remember it only hit me in my final year when I slapped a junior and realised I had changed for worse. I can’t blame it all on the school because I had a choice, but I know I still have residual anger issues that I’ll have to sort out over time. A part of me is still very mean.
Chime, 26
I had this senior in secondary school who would always demand my provisions until one day, I decided to stop giving them to him. I remember he made me squat continuously from 10 p.m to 3 a.m the next day, even though I had classes that morning. I was just 14-years-old at the time. Punishments like this continued and my grades suffered for the entire year. There was also another guy who made me pay ₦6,000 for the chain he misplaced while he was flogging me. It’s crazy. I told my mother who reported to the housemaster but the school did nothing, and reporting just increased my suffering. I never spoke about it again.
Osas, 35
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to the realisation that as men, we’re always trying to “outman” each other. I don’t know where this feeling came from, but I know it’s there. I hate to admit it, but in boarding school, I was a terrible person. I was the senior whose name caused fear among junior students. I was bullied too, and every time I was hit, I promised myself that I would get revenge.
We went through these things with the hope that when we got to a position of power, we’d do the same (or worse). It’s also a very Nigerian thing where you want to be rich just so you can show other people pepper. Do I regret it? Yes. But It’s too late to start fixing things from the past, so I’ve moved on.
Prince, 29
For me, it was a rite of passage. The bullying in my time wasn’t really violent — it was more about chores. I remember having to fetch water, wash and iron my senior’s clothes, which was considered normal. And when I became a senior myself, I made my juniors do the same thing. I wasn’t a violent bully hitting people or depriving them of their food sha. However, I did hear a story of a senior who pressed a steam iron on a younger student’s chest.
Joe, 22
For me it was the time a senior asked me to lie down in a room that was being dusted, knowing fully well that I had asthma. I think I was about 12-years-old and he had summoned me, but no one told me. As if that wasn’t enough, after a while, he dragged me up, applied olive oil on his palm and just slapped me repeatedly until I passed out. I remember waking up in the hospital, but the worst part, the school’s nurse didn’t believe my story. The school later found out and compelled him to dig a hole his height. Please, what sort of punishment is that? Why couldn’t they just expel him?
David, 28
I’m a femme presenting man, so bullying and abuse is something I’ve gotten used to overtime. I remember it started in primary school when other kids used to taunt me, calling me names like “woman wrapper”. It was so bad that even when I finally caved in to perform masculine activities like playing football, these kids still didn’t give me a chance. They dragged me and threw the ball at me. It was a terrible experience.
Throughout primary and secondary school, I was made to feel less than I am, so I chose to bury myself in books. It’s so bad that I still get uncomfortable and scared anytime I see a group of boys gathered in one place. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to let go of my change in the bus because I’m scared I’d be attacked for having a tiny voice.
Lanre, 26
The bullying starts right at the beginning of your first year in school. I was 12 years-old and at the bottom of the food chain which automatically made me a prey. Some senior was in charge of assigning junior students to seniors slavery-style and he selected me to be one of his subjects. I would fetch his water, wash his clothes and hand him my provisions every term. He was smart enough not to beat me as that could raise suspicion. We didn’t report these things because we knew we’d be seniors too one day and there were teachers who flat out told us to deal with it.
I’m glad I got a lot of love from home which made me realise that it wasn’t a “me” thing. Looking back, it’s just a tiny part of my life and it didn’t leave that much of an impact on 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.
Today’s Man Like is Michael Ejoor, an actor and singer known for his roles on AfricaMagic’s Tinsel and Unbroken.
In this episode of Man Like, he talks about dealing with paralysis as a child, being bullied in secondary school and how that sent him into depression, surviving a devastating suicide attempt and how his job helps him escape his problems.
Can you tell me about a moment from your childhood that stood out to you?
When I was six, I got diagnosed with something called Guillain-Barre syndrome. It’s a disease that affects the central nervous system, so I was paralysed for over a year.
What? I’m so sorry.
When I look back, I realise my paralysis was a gradual process. It started when my teachers complained about my handwriting becoming harder to read. I couldn’t hold my pencils properly. Then before I knew It, I started limping.
Didn’t your parents notice?
I remember my mum telling my dad that I was limping at the time, but he was so busy, I don’t think he took it seriously. When he spoke to me about it, I also told it wasn’t serious. It wasn’t until I couldn’t walk or use my arms completely that it finally hit us all that it was real.
Damn. So how did you guys cope?
My mum was really scared. I don’t think I’d ever seen her cry so much in my entire life. As a proper Nigerian mother, she called pastors and all sorts of people to pray for or pray with me. There were so many pastors coming in and out of our house, it was insane. I was always on the floor with people joining hands in a circle and praying for me.
How about your dad?
He didn’t really show a lot of emotion in public at the time, but I’m sure he must’ve in private. He put on a brave face for the family.
Suddenly not being able to walk must have been tough for you as a child.
Oh yes. At the time I loved playing football and it crushed me every time I saw people playing football while I sat in a wheelchair. I mean, a part of me was hopeful that I’d walk again, but it still hurt not being able to do so at that moment.
How were you able to walk again?
Something interesting happened. My family moved to Germany and were there for almost a year consulting with doctors. I was poked and prodded, and I think they even put me on a clinical trial at some point. To be honest, they did a lot before they gave up and decided that I should be moved to a care home. According to their tests, there was no life in my legs, which meant no hope.
Ah?
At that point, I was also sick and tired of being in a hospital. Even though they had given up on me, I knew I was going to walk again.
So you didn’t move to the care home?
No. I randomly started walking again.
What! How?
We were in our flat in Munich, and my little sisters were playing with my wheelchair. For some reason, I just really wanted to push it with them. I still don’t have an explanation for it to this day, but I just got up and took a few steps. Obviously, they weren’t strong and I had to hold on to the wall for support, but they were steps nonetheless. And from then on, I just started to practice and learn how to walk. I grew up a firm believer in God, and I believe he changed my story. The doctors had even said it’d affect my brain and I wouldn’t be able to process things, but I ended up graduating with a first-class in university, and here I am chatting away and being an absolute nuisance.
Ah mad! How did your parents react when they found out?
I can’t express how happy they were. LOL.
There was a glitch where I stopped walking the day we were supposed to fly back to Nigeria, and my mum didn’t shake. She was like, “You’ve walked before; you’ll walk again.”
Tell me about your parents. What’s your relationship with them like?
I’m my mum’s only son, so my mum and I are close. She’s so cool. I was 15 the first time I went to a club, and I didn’t sneak out because she just let me go. Years later, I asked her why she did that, and she said she knew she had raised me well.
I didn’t connect much with my dad growing up. He was just this guy I called “dad”. We’re cool now though.
How did that happen?
I honestly don’t know. It was almost like we just started talking one day and never stopped. I think I grew up and realised what being a Nigerian man was like and understood how men were raised to exist in a certain way. For example, how many people have heard the words “I love you” or “I’m proud of you” from their fathers? Everybody puts up their dad’s picture on father’s day, but if you ask them about things that have to do with one-on-one time, a majority don’t have that. People just expect fathers to be that way.
I also figured that if I wanted a relationship with this man, I had to be open to understanding where he was coming from.
That’s deep. Still on fatherhood and by extension manhood, can you tell me about a turning point in your life that defined your idea of what manhood means?
I would say coming to terms with my mental health struggles. I’m clinically diagnosed with depression, and I’ve had to live on anti-depressants for many years.
I’m sorry. When did you get your diagnosis?
I got diagnosed in 2011 when I was 23 years old. It started when I went to boarding school in Nigeria and was bullied heavily. One time, I was literally thrown down a flight of stairs, and another time, someone put a knife to my neck.
That’s insane.
It really affected me and changed my outlook on life. I would wake up and wish I had died in my sleep. My parents started wondering why my mood was erratic and why I stayed away from other people. I had moments where I would constantly just sit in the dark and there were other times where I cut myself. But they didn’t find out why. I was on antidepressants for over five years.
I’ll say coming to terms with my struggles helped me define my manhood. It helped me understand that I didn’t have to be strong; I could break if I needed to.
You spoke about growing up christian. How did this affect your diagnosis?
People are told that as soon as you find Jesus, your life will be perfect. But even Jesus admits that we will go through troubles. I don’t walk around thinking because I’m a Christian everything will work out for me. But one thing I’ve come to understand is, when there’s a setback, I’ll be better for it in the end and there’s a reason it’s happening.
We decided I should see a professional when I attempted suicide.
I’m so sorry about that.
It’s all right. I was in a bad place. I did crack, got drunk and overdosed on a bunch of pills. They had to pump my stomach to take out over 40 pills. I was so embarrassed because when I woke up, the first face I saw was my mother’s. You’d expect panic, fear or disappointment, but her face was blank. I couldn’t help but think of all the emotions she had gone through before this. The look on her face hurt more than anything. To be honest, I was also thinking, “Why didn’t this work so it’ll all be over?”
It can’t be easy going through this and holding on to a career that demands that you throw yourself into a wide variety of emotions over and over again. How do you cope?
I tell myself I’m normal. Society and my mind might try to tell me otherwise, but I’m normal. Nature has just made me super hyper-attuned with my emotions. There are times when handling everything gets really difficult. I had a mental breakdown which led to a seizure right before a premiere once. I should have stayed back home, but I told myself, “Pick yourself up.” In the end, I left the premiere giddy, without the burden of what I had previously experienced.
Looking at that night, I will say my work helps me manage my depression. I love being an actor; I escape the noise in my head when I become someone else.
That’s an interesting way to experience work. We’ve spoken about navigating your career, how about relationships?
Omo, I just ate breakfast recently. I haven’t been very lucky with relationships.
Ah! Why?
LMAO. Maybe I have a bad character.
Lol. But seriously, why?
I think it’s the right person, wrong timing. I also feel like I have commitment issues. That’s all I will say
Hopefully your future bae doesn’t see this.
Please, they should read it and know now. LOL.
You did an interview with Funmi Iyanda where you went public with your mental health story. Coming from a society where this isn’t really talked about, how did that feel?
It was scary. I almost pulled out that day, but I’m a man of my word and that’s the only reason I went through with it. I was scared that people would treat me differently once they found out. I was also scared it would affect my career.
In retrospect, I would do it over and over again. I saw all the people it helped and to be honest, I haven’t gotten any negative backlash, at least not to my face. Yes, one day it might come up when someone is trying to drag me, but I don’t care. The feedback I’ve gotten so far is that Nigerians can be kind.
For my final question, I’d like to know your greatest fear.
My greatest fear is never making an impact despite all the things I’ve had to go through in life. I don’t want to believe I’d go through everything in my life for it to not have any meaning. God please.
As Nigerians, especially men, talking about your feelings or addressing mental health issues don’t always come naturally. Thanks to years of social and religious conditioning, we have been taught to either stay silent or seek spiritual solutions to our problems. With the world slowly changing to allow for open conversations, Zikoko spoke to five young Nigerian men in their 20s about their experiences with therapy and what they’ve learned (if they learned anything at all).
Caleb, 22
I have been in therapy for eight months. I realized earlier this year that I no longer wanted to be alive. I didn’t want to kill myself, but I silently prayed for death. I had to go in for therapy based on my professor’s suggestion. We had taken a random Beck’s Depression Inventory (BDI) test in class and it showed that I had a severe case of depression. I have to admit that it was weird at first – you’re essentially opening yourself up to a stranger, but I’m glad it passed.
One thing I’ve learned is that therapy isn’t a quick fix. It’s given me a sense of self-awareness that I have to keep putting in the work if I want to see changes. Before therapy, I had told my family how I was feeling but they couldn’t help interrogate what was wrong in the way I needed. We (men) haven’t been raised in a society that doesn’t understands how complex the mind is. Whenever there’s a suicide report or awareness about men’s mental health, we talk about paying attention, but people aren’t even learning to listen to their friends talk. Worse, we’re not learning to respond appropriately.
Somadina, 26
I felt the need to see a therapist because I knew I needed to talk to a professional, a stranger that wouldn’t judge me. I suffer from depression and was once suicidal. Despite all of this, I couldn’t make it past two sessions because I couldn’t connect with my therapist at all. I remember talking to her about being an only child and she told me to go out and make new friends. Ma’am, I have friends and in case you’ve forgotten, we’re in a panini. Before therapy, and even now, I found it hard to talk to people about my issues because they’d either judge me or add to my problems. Some might even think you’re being dramatic or you’re overthinking things. My two sessions showed me that therapists aren’t problem solvers; this doesn’t mean that I’ve given up. I’m currently on the lookout for a new therapist.
Daniel, 25
Let me start by saying I’m a pastor’s kid and the first male child in an Igbo family, that alone is cause for therapy. As Nigerians, we are taught to swallow our pain, cast all our cares on an “Almighty God” and not bring shame to our families. Between 2015 and 2017, I attempted suicide about five times. My friends connected me with my first therapist after they got wind of my last attempt. However, I couldn’t make it past one session with my first therapist as she started with prayers, suggesting that I pray to God to “take away” my sexuality. Thankfully, I found another therapist, a queer man who helped me navigate my life for the six months I was in therapy. Going to therapy helped me accept my sexuality and learn how to extend grace to people to learn and unlearn. I am currently considering going back to therapy to handle the weight of my life.
Jamal, 27
While I’ll say I’ve always had a pretty good life, I had to consider therapy when I realized I was always sad and only a hair’s breadth from bursting into tears. I’ve been going for six months now; I saw a clinical psychologist for three months but I wasn’t getting better so I switched to an actual psychiatrist. I wouldn’t say I’ve learned anything new, the entire process is just boring AF! I thought I’d unearth some profound truth about myself, but it hasn’t been the case. People see it as this inherently good thing even when it’s not entirely necessary. That’s not to say I haven’t benefited from it though, it’s just not as life-changing as I thought. Also, I have to keep going if I want them to keep giving me antidepressants.
Kelechi, 27
I’ve been going to therapy on and off for about three years now. I was suffering from debilitating anxiety and I would hyperventilate a lot. I also had issues accepting my queerness because I didn’t fit in with the LGBTQ+ community and there were hard times in my relationship with my family. I’ve had two therapists so far, but I had to leave the first one because I felt we were a little bit too similar. She didn’t challenge me much and I needed someone to call me out on my bullshit. While my new therapist talks too much, he’s helped me understand the importance of addressing conflicts immediately they arise. It’s nice to have someone that challenges me and I can’t get mad at him because it’s his job.
Take a second, think deeply, and ask yourself: how many times have you been completely honest when answering the question “How are you?” The truth is, our regular responses to this question tend to be reflex answers, not sincere ones. So think again; if you’re doing this, chances are, your guys are probably doing it too.
With the world (and Nigeria in particular) constantly moving mad, we need to check on each other beyond social media bants. Here are five ways to intentionally check up on the men in your life.
Hit them up with something they’re interested in: As we said before, “how are you?” has casted. One of the best ways to truly gauge how your friend is feeling is by having general, everyday conversations with them. You know what he likes, right? DM him memes that get him going, ask his thoughts about something he’s passionate about, send him Twitter beef; basically, try to make the conversation as normal as possible. From the flow of your conversation, you might be able to tell if something is up, which allows you to ask about his well being without it feeling like an ambush.
Create time to see them in person: So many times we’ve sent texts and the receiver either exaggerated or downplayed our feelings because, well, they can’t see us. While your friend might text you back that he’s “good,” it would be harder to lie to you in person. Call him up and tell him you’re bringing food over (almost always works), ask to borrow his gamepad, offer to buy him drinks, just make sure you’re able to hang out with him. During your time together, you might just pick up on something a text wouldn’t have shown you.
Don’t be afraid to open up first: It is safe to assume that we are all going through it at the moment. One way or the other, life is showing us pepper. Another surefire way to get your friend to open up is by opening up yourself. It’s hard to be vulnerable with someone who looks like they have their shit together. So let your friend know you’re struggling too, no matter how small you think that struggle is. However, it’s important not to do too much that you forget why you’re there in the first place. Your friend could see you in a new light and feel compelled to share.
Listen. You don’t always have to offer a solution: So he has opened up to you, what next? It’s human nature to immediately start offering advice, but remember, sometimes all people need is someone to listen to them. Giving him what you assume to be a solution might just make matters worse (unless you’re sure as hell that your plan is solid). The best thing to do is listen, tell him you understand (even if you don’t, yet), and reassure him that he has your support. Don’t be extra or over the top. To feel heard and understood helps validate someone’s experiences and feelings, so the best way to react might be not to offer advice or opinions unless specifically asked.
Give them space, but remind them you’re there: If there’s one thing men hate, is the feeling of suffocation. You can’t force someone to open up to you; they may be working on it in their own way. Also, sometimes men just don’t want to talk about their mental health. The important thing is that you stick around and maintain an open channel so they’ll find you when they’re ready to talk.
We know it’s hard to do all of these things while dealing with your personal shit. But the truth is if we don’t look out for our mandem, who will?
