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  • Nick Imudia: Everything We Know As Former Konga CEO Commits Suicide

    Nick Imudia, a business executive and former Chief Executive Officer of Konga, an e-commerce company in Nigeria, has reportedly died by suicide.

    Imudia, the current CEO of the solar energy firm D.Light, allegedly jumped from the balcony of his Lekki residence on the night of Tuesday, June 25.

    Nick Imudia: Everything We Know As Former Konga CEO Commits Suicide

    According to The Punch, the businessman reportedly contacted his US-based sibling with instructions on distributing his wealth. He also spoke with his young daughter, promising to always be there for her before his demise.

    Lagos State Police Public Relations Officer Benjamin Hundeyin confirmed the case.

    The Wills reports that friends and family of the deceased are still in shock, and no one knows the reason why he took his life.

     [ad]

    How’s the public reacting?

    The news has stirred a flurry of reactions from Nigerians on social media. Business associates and acquaintances have also mourned the deceased.

    Nick Imudia: Everything We Know As Former Konga CEO Commits Suicide
    Nick Imudia: Everything We Know As Former Konga CEO Commits Suicide

    This is a developing story.

    Adeyinka Odutuyo

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  • What She Said: I Overdosed After Falling Out With My Boss

    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.

    I Overdosed After Falling Out With My Boss

    *TW: This story contains themes of depression and suicide*

    Tell me about your team lead

    We were very close. If somebody asked me out at the bank, I would tell her I’d tell her, and we’d laugh about it. She even got her best friend to talk to me when I was feeling very depressed, and she wasn’t around.

    But we started to fall out in late 2021. About a year into the role, I became restless and wanted to know where my career was headed. It was a new team, which meant there was  a lot of uncertainty about career growth. I wasn’t sure what was next, and I didn’t like it.



    So what did you do?


    As I became more restless, it started some friction with other members of the team. So I brought up how I felt with my boss, and she tried to calm me down. 

    She was away from the country and promised we’d talk about it when she returned. But I felt out of place in the team because she was away for a long time.

    How long?


    About six months. I’d already applied for another job before she returned. When I told her this on Whatsapp, she asked why, and I made a flippant statement like, “You people are confusing; I don’t know what I’m doing here.” 

    It hurt her a lot because apart from assuring me that we’d discuss how to navigate how I was feeling about work, she had been there for me.

    For context, when I almost O’D’ed in May 2021, she got me help and took care of me. 

    Overdosed? What happened?

    I had come into the bank job with a lot of debt because I’d just moved from Abuja. So I had to get a place to stay. Thinking about it now, it was probably just ₦‎200 or ₦‎300k but it felt really overwhelming at the time. I also felt very alone. I was away from my family and had no friends in Lagos. My family was also requesting black tax, as always. 

    How did your boss find out?

    We followed each other on Instagram, and I used to post worrying content. My state of mind also affected my output; tasks that typically take a day or two took two weeks. 

    One day, she texted me on  my WhatsApp and said she noticed what I posted on Instagram and offered to get me help. I broke down because I didn’t even know that someone would see that something was wrong. She paid for a session with a psychiatrist, and I was placed on medication.

    What were you diagnosed with?

    Depression. I’ve had depression since I was 14. It’s something I’ve struggled with all my life. 

    Also read: Growing up with a pastor mum was hard

    Can we talk about that?

    I grew up with my dad’s family in Port Harcourt. I had a step-mum because my mum and dad had separated when I was born, and my mum stayed in Bayelsa. 

    There was a lot of verbal abuse, and my stepbrother used to try to sexually assault me at night. Nobody ever did anything about it. My step mum once said to me, “If you wear shorts to sleep as I told you, he won’t try to touch you.” 

    I often ran away, and they’d find me and bring me back. She’d beat the shit out of me, all the works. I was around nine or ten years old.

    I’m so sorry. What about your dad?

    I never told him. He was barely around because he was into illegal oil bunkering, so he never noticed. I think the only time he noticed something was off was when my step-mum accused me of stealing her money. He asked me if I took the money and I said no, then he made a comment, “Children like this end up being the best people.” I don’t know what he meant, but I interpreted it to mean, “They’re maltreating you now, but tomorrow you’ll be alright.” That hurt because he was supposed to protect me.

    Because of all that trauma growing up, I was already very depressed. I’ve been suicidal for a long time, but I I was just too scared to do anything about it. 

    Let’s go back to your boss’ help in 2021 

    I felt very safe and heard with her, and I didn’t need to do anything extra. My boss said it was something I’d been battling for a long time, and I’d never really gotten a plan for recovery, so she wanted to get me all the help I needed, both therapy and medication. 

    Did the medication help?

    The jury’s still out on whether they work. What helped me was being seen and heard, not necessarily the medication. 

    If you’d like to be my next subject on #WhatSheSaid, click here to tell me why

    Fair enough. So what happened when you fell out with your boss?

    She told me that she blamed herself because it meant she couldn’t clearly communicate her vision for the team. She was also surprised because it felt like she was doing her best to carry me along. 

    Now I wanted to see what it was like in other teams, so I moved from marketing to the product team. It broke my boss because she felt like it was personal. We didn’t have a fight, but there had been a back and forth for months, and towards the end of the 2021, she called me and told me she’d heard a lot of stuff I’d said to HR, and she was very disappointed.  It was an emotional conversation, but it also felt finallike “this is it.”

    When she returned to the country, we eventually had a face-to-face conversation. I let her know it wasn’t personal, and I wasn’t lying to get ahead or trying to put her down. I just needed to move for me and the sake of my career. But by then, the damage was already done, and we were never that close again. 

    So sorry

    I left her team and joined another team; there was no going back. I was trying to get ahead with my work.

    In 2022, I got admission into a school in Sweden and was up for a scholarship. But I stalled the application process because the school required a reference letter from my boss; but I had fallen out with the person I’d worked with for about a year and didn’t know how to approach my new boss. So I was in limbo until the deadline passed. That’s how I lost out on the scholarship. 

    While this was going on, I was also in a situationship with a team member.

    It just happened; we were on the same project, so we were always working together. We started talking, and things progressed from that. But it didn’t work out and ended badly.

    Losing out on the scholarship and the end of my situationship took a toll on me. And I OD’d again. 

    I had a lot of medication at home from my sessions the year before. So I sat down and opened all the drugs, removed them from their packs and started swallowing them in bits until I’d taken them all. 

    I texted my older sister and told her I’d overdosed on my medication. Then I turned off my phone and stayed under the shower. She was out of town and couldn’t come but called a mutual friend who rushed to the house. He broke the door and rushed  me to my psychiatrist  — my sister had told him about it. 

    When I woke up the next day, my new boss, a top management member from work were by my bedside. The mutual friend had called the office because he said when he took me to the hospital, my psychiatrist wasn’t around, but the other people there had made some statements about suicide being illegal in Nigeria, and he was afraid I’d be arrested. 

    So he called my office and they came to take me out of the hospital that morning. We went to another hospital, and. I was admitted for three weeks. I saw a dozen psychiatrists and therapists. It felt like a prison, but with a lot of medication. 

    I’m sorry, that sounds like a lot. Did you go back to work?

    Not immediately. The entire month I was in the hospital, I was worried and kept thinking about work, but they said I couldn’t go. The psychiatrist consultant said he felt I didn’t understand the gravity of what I had done because I was very eager to go to the office, and that’s not how it works. I had to understand that trying to take my life wasn’t how to handle stuff when it got hard. That helped me through the treatment.

    After I was discharged at the end of June, I spent one month at home, getting better. I went back to work in August. I never returned to the psychiatrist I was seeing,l , and they never reached out. I also never went back to any of my appointments at the new hospital. 

    Why not?

    I didn’t think it was effective for me. I also stopped my medication in July when I went back home. I felt like I’d always be on medication, and I didn’t want that. When I get withdrawal symptoms, I take one or two to ease the symptoms. Therapy and drugs don’t help. I’m still very depressed but I won’t try to kill myself again. 

    So how are you doing now?

    Now, I’m okay mentally. I’m in a better place. Maybe it’s the pep talks I have with myself; maybe it’s the weed. 

    Haha

    I started smoking when I got off my medication. I don’t like depending too much on anything, so I don’t smoke all the time, but it helps. I’m better now. 

    For more stories like this, check out our #WhatSheSaid and for more women-like content, click here

    RECOMMENDED: I’ve completely given up on dating men

    Oluwatobi Afolabi

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  • I’m Not Suicidal But If I Get A Chance To Die, I’ll Take It

    TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse, rape and suicide. 

    Editor’s note: Last week, Jumoke* sent me a message on Twitter saying she had a story for me. We had a conversation and here’s what she told me:

    My dad was physically abusive to us growing up. There was a time he stripped my mum naked and pushed her out at night. Another time, he gave her a black eye. The area around the eye is still black to date. I’m not saying my mum didn’t have her own issues but my dad was worse. My mum paid the bills while my dad preferred to spend money on his second wife and his friends. Both of them beat us for any offence we committed. My dad would strip us naked and beat us. I used to tell people they were not my real parents, and that I was adopted. 

    When I was 5, the rent at the house we lived in expired so my parents decided to move into their own house which was still under construction. They felt it wasn’t safe for us to stay in an uncompleted building so they took us to live with our grandparents for a while. There, my uncles always had visitors over. One of them was a man named Tawfiq* — he lived on the same street as us. Whenever my uncles wanted to go out, they would leave me at his house. Tawfiq would take me to the uncompleted part of the building and make me do things to him. Sometimes he would make me suck his penis. At other times, he would rub it on my labia. He would finger me and do other things that I shouldn’t have known at that age. Afterwards, he would threaten to beat me if I ever told anyone. Beatings were regular — I knew I would definitely get beaten if I reported it, so it continued for months. 

    My father took a second wife when I was in JS 3. He would send me to her house to help with housework, and she would use me like a rag. Eventually, my parents decided to split and we had to pick whom we wanted to stay with. I picked my mum and my dad promptly disowned me. When I was about to enter the university, my mum introduced me to the Dean of student affairs in my school. He was my mentor — I even called him daddy. One time I was having issues at school and my mum fought me a lot about it. She reported me to the dean and he asked me to come and see him in Osogbo where he lived. He picked me up from the park and he was talking about school and what my mum had told him so I was relaxed. He said he wanted us to have privacy as he had guests at home so he drove us to a guest house. I didn’t even think of how he knew the gateman’s name, and how the front desk person had set up his usual room for him. He was a father figure to me. There was no need to suspect anything. Anyway, he raped me. I begged him. I reminded him that I am his son’s age and classmate. When I threatened to scream, he laughed. After struggling for a while, I gave up and let him have his way. I just stayed there and stared at the ceiling thinking about Tawfiq. When he finished, he said he didn’t know I was a virgin because I looked like a big girl. I cleaned up and went back to school.

    I knew nobody would believe me. After all, I went with him to the guest house. I tried to tell someone about it and she said it wasn’t possible, “He doesn’t need to do that to get girls to sleep with him.” When I told my mum, she asked what I was wearing. Nobody gave me the support I needed, so the rest of my stay at the university was a blur. I sought solace in drinking and eating heavily. I told myself that if I looked unattractive enough, then no one would want to abuse me. I used to say, “People will betray you but food won’t.” I could count on filling my stomach to make me feel better. After eating, I would feel bad because I had eaten so much, then I would eat some more to comfort myself. 

    Of course, it didn’t work. I tried to kill myself but that didn’t work either. Sometime in 2020, there was an uproar on social media about sexual abuse. There was a protest happening at the time. I remember waking up one morning to see a picture of Tawfiq and his daughter on Instagram. He and his family live abroad. He looked like he was balling, and the only thing I could think about was how karma is all a big lie. He is living his best life and I am here, stuck with nightmares and a shitty mental health. I messaged him and confronted him about what he did to me as a child. Though he admitted to it, he said he wasn’t that much older than me when it happened. I was so angry, I sent the screenshots to my extended family’s WhatsApp group. I wrote an epistle about how they needed to create an enabling environment for kids in the family to report abuse. One of my uncles kept talking about how he would kill Tawfiq. I knew it was fake outrage because when my cousin said she was also molested as a child by one of our uncles, everybody kept quiet. I messaged her privately and she told me the whole story. He would tell lies to get her beaten whenever he sensed that she was about to report him, to prove to her that his word would always be taken over hers.

    As we were talking, one of my uncles called and accused her of trying to scatter the family. He said she should bring evidence that she was molested 20 years ago. I was so pissed I left the family group chat and I’m glad I never went back because she told me they made her apologize to him. Last month, he was at a family gathering and it was as if nothing had happened. The men in my life failed me but food never did. 

    Currently, I am tired of living. What’s the point of existing? If I was dead, none of this would have happened to me. These days, I wake up because I have to and get through the day with no desire to do anything else.  I’m not suicidal but if I get a chance to die, I’d take it. 

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    Mariam Sule

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  • A Week In The Life Of A Call Center Agent At The Suicide Hotline

    “A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

    Today’s subject is **Mark, a psychologist who is a call center agent at the suicide hotline. He walks us through his battle with faith, the need to help people, and the challenges that come with his job.

    MONDAY:

    I wake up early no matter what because I don’t sleep for long. Today, I wake up by 6 am because I was up reading till 2:30 am. 

    The first thing I do when I wake up is to check the morning news on my Chrome browser. I do this for an hour because by 7 am, messages from work start to come in. I am the head of the counselling department and this means that junior counsellors who have issues with their clients come to me for help.

    I man the hotline and usually, calls start to come in by this time. To ensure the efficiency of the hotline, I weigh the importance of each call and act appropriately. That is, if a caller just needs someone to talk to, I divert them from the hotline to a nearby counsellor so as to free up the hotline. However, if the caller sounds panicky and desperate, I attend to them because it is an emergency and every second counts.

    Whenever a call comes in, I gauge the person’s tone, accent, and diction and tailor myself to the person. This is to prevent miscommunication. It’s important for the caller at the other end to feel that they are talking to someone who understands them. So, depending on who’s calling, I speak either English, Pidgin, or my tiny Yoruba.

    Today is a slow day. I eat breakfast by 11 am, I have my bath by noon. I spend the rest of the day browsing through Psychology Today and Medscape.

    TUESDAY:

    I don’t sleep much at night because the majority of calls come in at night and early in the morning. It helps that I am not a deep sleeper so even if I doze off, I am up once the hotline starts to ring.

    Today, an elderly woman called crying about her daughter who was being violent. She was asked to run a couple of tests but she couldn’t afford it and coupled with the lockdown, she had no hope of raising the money. I had to comfort her over the tears and give her hope that it would be fine. That’s all I could do because I couldn’t help financially. After the call, I felt really broken because I just gave her temporary relief that wasn’t going to solve anything. The most annoying part of this job for me is the feeling of helplessness. 

    Helping people over the phone is tricky. One wrong tone or an out of place statement can either make or break a caller. So, I have to be patronising yet firm. For example, many people call crying and one thing you must never do is tell them to calm down. This is because it invalidates their feelings and makes them feel like a cry baby. So, I tell them it’s okay to cry and re-assure them that I am here for them. I keep repeating that I am there for them so that as they are crying, my voice keeps ringing to them. Eventually, this helps calm them down. Then, I carefully ask for specifics and try to narrow down the problem. Some of these calls last for an hour and I have to be non-judgemental and actively listen. 

    After doing all of this, it saddens me when I can’t proffer a lasting solution to someone’s problem.

    I am in a low mood so I distract myself with Youtube. I watch the Voice which is one of my favourite shows. There’s a rendition of Whitney Houston’s ‘I have nothing’ by one the contestants and that makes it easy to forget my troubles. 

    WEDNESDAY:

    Working this job has limited the number of people I talk to. My colleagues are my only friends because they are the only ones I can rant to about the job. These cases are confidential and that means I can’t discuss them with people outside of work, even if the person is my father. It’s my colleagues I rant to, cry to, and are there. I have over 300 unreplied messages on Whatsapp because I am usually tired to start texting after work.

    I don’t have to worry about a significant other because I am not in a relationship. I have never been in a relationship because I don’t have time and there are so many time wasters out there. See, I don’t like stress. 

    The only downside is that on days like today, where I feel very very lonely after talking to a lot of people on the phone, I have no one to cuddle. I just want to cuddle and not have to say anything or even rant. The loneliness brings on a  bout of sadness.

    I shrug it off by going to sleep. Sleep always refreshes me and chases the loneliness away.

    THURSDAY:

    As a hotline handler, I respond to a variety of calls. Panic attacks, anxiety attacks, suicide. Since the lockdown started, the majority of calls I have gotten are panic attack related and they happen in the middle of the night. In the past, I used to get a rough estimate of 50 calls in a month, but these days, I have been getting up to 150 calls. 9 out of 10 people who call are women because men don’t talk about their issues or they drown them with unhealthy coping mechanisms.

    Early this morning, a lady called that she was having panic attacks. She was scared for her family because she’s far away from them and even with the lockdown, the number of reported cases keeps increasing. Another person called that the death rate has gone up so much that she can’t step out of the house anymore. She doesn’t know what to do and she’s panicking. Someone else called that they are lonely and the loneliness is affecting their psyche and making it hard to breathe. I had to reassure all of them that it would be fine.

    In between all of these, someone woke me up with a call on the hotline telling me that their Facebook account was hacked and they needed my help. I was shocked because I am used to people at the other end of the line crying or struggling to breathe. Being asked to help with a hacked Facebook account in the middle of the night is new to me. 

    These calls sometimes make me very sad. I have considered handing over the hotline because I keep wondering why people are suffering. My conclusion is that people suffer because of the actions of other people and that makes me sad. Will the world ever be better? It’s hard to believe in God when I have front row seats to human suffering.

    These thoughts are making me sad and I can feel an oncoming panic attack. I request for a counsellor to talk to and I call and rant away my feelings.

    FRIDAY:

    I wish I was on the frontline supporting. It’s not like I don’t enjoy helping through the hotline, I just feel that there’s more I should be doing to help. The guys at the front need all the help they can get. I am fueled by the need to help people. If I wasn’t a psychologist, I would have been a nurse.

    I have always been drawn to helping people since I was young. My earliest memory is of secondary school while I was in the band. There was this kid in the orchestra that was doing very poorly so he got picked on a lot. He was always crying, so one day, I went over to comfort him and promised to help him. Then, I was a flutist and he was a violinist. I went out of my way to teach him how to play and practised with him. Even though he was part of the team, he wasn’t allowed to play in concerts because of how bad he was. 

    I remember one day as we were packing up after a concert and he started to play. The other members were shocked about how much he had improved and even asked how he got so good. I remember him laughing shyly and just looking at me. Since then, I knew I had to keep helping people.

    As I am not on the frontline helping people, I am helping as much I can from the hotline. I plan to read the Alex Cross series by James Patterson today. 

    It’s Friday, please, let me unwind small. 

    SATURDAY:

    The greatest skill you can have as an emergency hotline handler is the ability to separate personal life from work. Especially in this work that is the boundary between life and death. Maybe because I have mastered this, I don’t hesitate to blast rude customer service agents when I am on the other end. I believe that if I can do my own job without being sour, other professionals should be able to do theirs too.

    Today, I am conducting interviews for new counsellors to support our efforts. Our recruitment process is very intense and we are not sorry about it. There is the interview phase where only 30% make it, then, a training phase where we cut them down again. Finally, we have the assessment phase which is the interview phase raised to the power of 5. 

    You can be disqualified for just uttering the wrong statement or not being knowledgeable enough on how to handle or refer cases.

    I always tell the new recruits, the conversation is over the phone so that means you have to be very careful. You have to be empathetic, you don’t utter careless statements, you don’t dismiss and you don’t judge. You listen and reassure and try to find common ground. Then finally, you refer them as appropriate.

    I enjoy teaching and seeing others gain knowledge, It makes me feel helpful.

    The only thing I love more than helping people is eating junk food. After the interviews are over, I look forward to ending the day with a hot wrap of shawarma or meat pie. Or both. It all depends on how I feel at the end of the sessions. 

    SUNDAY:

    Before the pandemic started, I stopped attending church. So, it makes no difference whether there is lockdown or not. I am staying put on my bed.

    I have so many questions that religion hasn’t been able to answer satisfactorily. I am sick and tired of people telling me I can’t understand the things of the spirit with the carnal mind. It just feels like the church is a scam because, from my work, I have a lot of questions that need answers. Why are we here? Why are people suffering? How were we created? 

    As a science student who understands genotype and phenotype, I know all of us can’t have these varied genes if God created only Adam and Eve. That’s such a big question that needs an answer. Okay, so God destroyed the entire race and there’s just Noah and his ark. So, one family gave birth to all the races? The stories just don’t add up for me. 

    Also, there was so much politics at play with people playing power games in the church. I just got tired of the lies, politics, sabotage and I quit. 

    I spend the rest of my day thinking about a future where I have better answers and more stability. Marriage is not in my plan or anything. I want to have children but only because I love taking care of people. I will adopt them though.

    I want to be a professor, travel the world while living in Nigeria. I also want to start African psychology because a lot of our treatment for mental illness is rooted in Western treatments. Imagine telling someone from Mushin to do Yoga? I want to develop treatment plans specific to Africa and teach them at various universities.

    At the end of the day, when my time is up, I want to be remembered as an amazing teacher who loved to help people.

    This story was edited for clarity. Some details have been changed to protect the identity of the subject.

    Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life Of” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, don’t hesitate to reach out. Reach out to me: hassan@bigcabal.com if you want to be featured on this series.

    Hassan Yahaya

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  • As far as the average Nigerian is concerned mental health issues don’t exist for us. If you are depressed or suffering from some sort of mental illness, it’s either your village people who are doing you or you need deliverance. In fact, if you’ve ever heard a Nigerian talk about mental health we are pretty sure you heard something along the lines of these statements.

    “Have you prayed about it? Let me give you my pastor’s number”

    “It’s that the only thing that’s doing you, your own is even small, my landlord gave me quit notice yesterday”

    “I don’t blame you, it’s because you don’t have real problems to think about”

    “Depressed ke? God forbid, have you eaten today, maybe you are hungry”

    “You want to talk to a therapist? For what? It’s like you think you are oyinbo”

    “Ahan you too you are depressed, it’s like this thing is trending now”

    “Better go and pray about it, such shall never be your portion in Jesus name”

    “It’s just a phase jo it’ll pass, don’t worry”

    “Ahan you are wearing cloth, you can eat everyday, there are clothes on your back, what more do you want?”

    “You just like to dey overthink, it’s not that serious”

    “You want to get help? You don’t know that you have to help yourself first abi?”

    “Are you the only one? We are all sad please, stop making a big deal about it”

    “You just like attention sha”

    “At your small age, what do you have to be anxious about?”

    “You are just too sensitive abeg”

    “You have to pray more o, don’t let the devil manifest himself in your life”

    “Wait I don’t understand, so…you are mad?”

    “Wo you are not alone, the way it’s doing you is the way it’s doing all of us.”

    “Shh don’t talk about it, you want your enemies to use it against you?”

    If you’ve ever been guilty of saying any of the above, we are here to tell you that you need to do better. If you know someone who is struggling with mental health issues, it’s not enough to just help them pray about it.

     

    If you need someone to talk to, the guys at MANI are doing incredible work, and we stan.

    Toketemu Ohwovoriole

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  • The Unfortunate Third Mainland Suicide Story Has Sparked A Much Needed Conversation On Mental Health
    On March 19, while most Nigerians were on the way back home from church driving back home church, Dr Orji- a Nigerian doctor on his way to Lagos Island- allegedly ordered his unsuspecting driver to park on the Third Mainland bridge, stepped out of his car and jumped into the lagoon, ending his own life.

    This sad news, unfortunately not first of its kind, once again highlights the importance and also absence of adequate mental health awareness in Nigeria.

    1. Being a vocal bunch, especially when it comes to social issues, Nigerians on Twitter chooked mouth in news a

    2. This really helpful tweet.

    3. Some have blamed Nigeria’s poor mental health awareness on religion.

    https://twitter.com/MakiSpoke/status/843754245077848064

    4. How depression starts in some Nigerian homes.

    5. Depression and sadness are not the same.

    https://twitter.com/TheBlackHermit/status/561918380123254784

    6. People volunteered to help.

    7. But helping people with mental health challenges comes with a huge responsibility.

    https://twitter.com/Punthief/status/843713185429557252

    8. To the cyberbullies…

    9. It’s important for people with mental health issues to seek professional help.

    10. Mental health is real and cannot be wished/prayed away.

    Maryam

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