Quizzes

Stacks

Shows

Podcasts

Newsletters

Naira Life

Love Life

Hustleprint

Love Currency

Sunken Ships

What She Said

My Bro

So You Don’t Have To

Interview With…

Zikoko Memes

Jollof Road

Cholera Outbreak Update

Follow our socials

  • Abuse in mental health institutions is not a new phenomenon. Reports of abuse emanate from care institutions nationwide. This is worsened by the fact that there are thousands of unregistered mental health institutions which often use unorthodox methods in the treatment of patients. The case isn’t any different in government-run institutions where practitioners operate unsupervised and unchecked, leading to several instances of human rights abuses.

    To commemorate Mental Health Awareness Month, I spoke to Remi, a former patient of the psychiatric ward at the Lagos University Teaching Hospital, Idi-Araba as part of a four-part series in partnership with She Writes Woman Mental Health Initiative highlighting human right abuses of people with mental health conditions in Nigeria.


    My name is Remi, and I’m a student at the Lagos State University Teaching Hospital. In 2019, I was diagnosed with depression and suicide ideation. I went to see a doctor after seeing symptoms of what I assumed was Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD).

    What were the symptoms?

    I was unable to focus on things. In class, I always zoned out or fell asleep. I had to cram to pass exams and I’d forget everything I read right after.

    I also had problems socially. I always preferred to keep to myself, and didn’t have any friends. My roommates tried to make friends with me but I always rejected them. My temperament also estranged people from me. I got severely angry at the slightest trigger so people generally stayed away. On the inside, I was always angry, sad or just numb.

    So what did the doctor do?

    She wasn’t convinced that I had ADHD. She chalked all my symptoms to just being stressed. I was certain I had ADHD and I was determined to make her see. I mentioned in passing that I sometimes think about killing myself and she immediately referred me to LUTH’s Psychiatric ward to see a specialist.

    At the psychiatric ward, I was diagnosed with severe depression with suicidal ideation and they refused to let me leave unless I called a relative. I refused. They called their intervention personnel — big, heavily-built men who they said would restrain me if I tried to make a scene. They threatened me to call my relatives or risk spending the weekend chained to a bed till Monday — it was a Friday.

    Woah. Why didn’t you want to call a family member?

    The only relatives I could call were my parents and I didn’t want them to think I had mental health issues. An uncle of mine lives with schizophrenia and I’ve always heard of them speak with him with a certain stigma. I didn’t want my parents to think I also had a mental health condition.

    So, who did you call?

    I called a doctor who worked at the NGO I volunteered for but unfortunately, she wasn’t in Lagos so I had to call my mom who called my dad.  When they arrived, the nurses said I’ll need to be admitted. I lied to my parents that depression had to do with a gastrointestinal issue I had and told them I didn’t want to be admitted.

     My parents told the nurses that I would not be getting admitted. They were made to sign a document in which they undertook to ensure I came for my clinic appointments.

    I was prescribed some drugs for my depression and assigned to a psychologist. I used the drugs religiously and faithfully attended my appointments but my mental health worsened.

    What happened next?

    I was told I had to be admitted. They said I would be admitted for a period of two weeks. I knew that my condition was worsening but I was worried about missing school. My depressive episode had been triggered because I performed poorly in school and missing weeks of classes could make me carry some courses over into the next semester.

    I eventually agreed to be admitted, thinking two weeks wasn’t so bad. I was promised that I would get help from a team of psychiatrists and psychologists who would see me every day. I knew I needed help so I agreed.

    After I was admitted, a nurse told me that it was impossible for me to be admitted for just two weeks. She stated that the minimum time spent admitted was six weeks, and even that was a minimum. With severe depression, it was unlikely I’d even get out after six weeks. I hated the fact that I was lied to. Why did they have to? I would have agreed to be admitted, without needing to be lied to.

    Wow. Did you at least get the help you were promised?

    I was assigned a bed in an open ward filled with patients in varying severity of mental health conditions. I found it hard to sleep because there were no fans in the wards. There were also mosquitoes and the patient adjacent to my bed snored terribly loud. 

    Day after day, I waited to see a psychiatrist or psychologist but none came around. I was just given drugs and food every day. I was losing my mind in boredom because my phone and laptops were taken away. I had nothing else to do but eat and sleep. The medication they gave me made me very drowsy all the time, so I was taking a lot of naps. I was also not allowed to read because they said I have something called Brain Fog Syndrome. I was bored and fed up. On top of that, I wasn’t getting the treatment I was promised.

    My mom came to visit daily with my favourite foods because I’m a picky eater. She’d also bring along my phone so I could text and watch movies while she was around. One time, she had a run-in with a nurse who was angry I didn’t eat hospital food. The nurse continued to be rude to my mother without provocation every day of my stay.

    By the fifth day, a Friday, I could no longer take it. I demanded to be discharged from the hospital because I felt I was just wasting away, doing nothing but eating and sleeping while my mates were studying. I didn’t want to risk carrying a course over at school so I asked my mom to ask for my discharge. I explained everything to her and she agreed. 

    My mom asked for advice from a family friend who was a psychologist and she was told that I could go home as long as I attended my clinic days religiously. The nurses tried to discourage my mom from checking me out but she was determined. They threatened that if my mother took me home and I harmed myself, the blame would be on my mother. My mother and I insisted that I was lucid and was fit to attend the clinic from home.

    She signed the required Discharge Against Medical Advice (DAMA) form and spoke to a resident doctor who impressed on her the implications of me going home before the conclusion of my treatment. The doctor reluctantly signed my release form and said I was good to go.

    We handed the DAMA form to the nurses. They then refused to let me go because my dad was listed as my next-of-kin but it was my mother who came to request my discharge. The resident doctor said it was a tiny matter that could be overlooked but the nurses refused, saying my dad had to come in person. We begged and pleaded with them, stating that my dad was at work and wouldn’t be able to arrive till way past 6 pm, the closing time. That would have meant I’d have to spend the weekend at the facility since it was a Friday. They refused and insisted my dad come all the way to sign the form.

    Against all odds, my dad made it there before six pm that evening. The nurses tried to discourage him as well, to the point of aggression but my dad had spoken to our psychologist friend who had told him there was no harm in me going home. I had a feeling the nurses were trying to delay till closing time in order to keep me there for the weekend.

    Whew. So you went home, right?

    Unfortunately, the officer to sign my final release papers had already gone home that evening. I was told I’d have to wait till the next morning before I could go home.

    Wow.

    My mother and younger brother begged and fought and pleaded for me to be released that night to be allowed home but the nurses disagreed. I told my parents to go home and come the next morning. My father did but my mother said it was already too late to go home and make the long trip back to the hospital again in the morning. She and my brother would sleep somewhere on the LUTH campus till it was time to fetch me. I tried to discourage her but she refused. She snuck me my phone to call her in case anything was wrong because she didn’t trust the nurses.

    Wow. What happened next?

    Miserably, I went back to my bed. Shortly after, one of the nurses came to me and said she suspected my mom had given me a phone. I denied it several times. She threatened to search my things, which she did. I had anticipated this so I had hidden the phone in my shirt. She continued to insist that she was sure I had a phone on me and would search my body. I pointedly refused, telling her she had no right to touch me. I anticipated that she would be back so I hid the phone in my panties.

    She left and returned a moment later with one of the heavily-built crisis intervention personnel whom she ordered to handcuff me to the bed and restrain my legs while she searched me. I was screaming at her not to touch me but she did anyway. When she didn’t find it, she said she would have to search my privates and I screamed at her not to do it. She ordered the guard to hold my hands and legs while she stripped my pants off, in the full view of the male guard and the rest of the patients in the ward. She took my phone and left me on the ground, naked and screaming. I felt so violated that I didn’t know what to do but to keep screaming.

    Oh my God. I’m so sorry.

    Apparently, my screams were so loud that my mother and brother heard where they were and came running back to see what was wrong. They peered through the window and saw me handcuffed to the bed, screaming, naked and jerking at the cuffs violently. Their pleas to tell them what was wrong was left unanswered, as I could not just stop screaming for minutes on end. The nurses threatened to inject me with a sedative if I didn’t keep quiet.

    My mother and brother tried to get into the ward but the nurses refused to let them in. They told them nothing and the nurses threatened to have my mother thrown out. She  was heartbroken seeing me in that state.

    Did no one try to intervene?

    Eventually, a senior nurse from a different ward came to find out what was wrong. She spoke to my mom, went inside to see me and calmed the situation. My mom asked her to let us go home but the nurse said she could only help if she was given a bribe. My mom pleaded and said she would bring something for her the next day as she had no money on her. The nurse agreed and directed the junior nurses to let us go.

    Did you try to report this incidence?

    Report? What’s the point? This was something the nurses did regularly without consequences. My reporting wouldn’t have made any difference, especially as my family doesn’t “know anybody.”

    How did you continue treatment?

    I opted to continue treatment privately, which I found to be very expensive.

    Remi is currently receiving private treatment, however expensive. She is continuing her education and finds joy volunteering as an advocate for mental health issues in Nigeria.

    People living with mental health conditions and psychosocial disabilities in Nigeria continue to be subjected to varying levels of human rights abuses across state-owned and otherwise owned facilities. She Writes Woman and Zikoko continue to document and amplify the lived experiences of these victims in a bid to hold the Nigerian government accountable to ensuring human rights-respecting mental health legislation in Nigeria.

    Do you have a story of abuse in state-owned, religious or traditional facilities? Reach out to @shewriteswoman across social media.

    If you’ll like to get confidential support for your mental health, call the 24/7 toll-free helpline – 0800 800 2000.

  • According to the World Health Organisation, one in four Nigerians live with a mental health condition. That’s 50 million Nigerians. Yet, the country is ill-equipped to provide adequate care to the people who need it the most. With only eight federal government-run neuropsychiatric hospitals, there are a ton of people in need of mental health care but are unable to access it.

    Institutions aren’t the only things that are inadequate. The laws are too. The latest mental health legislation in Nigeria is the Lunacy Act of 1958. In this archaic law, people with mental health issues are all classified as lunatic. It does not provide for the support of persons with mental health disabilities and enables the arbitrary detention of people who have been classified as lunatics.

    There’s a certain stigma attached to mental health issues. From fear to dread, people often view mental health conditions as a disability rather than as an illness.

    She Writes Woman, a nonprofit mental health advocacy group, has also been at the forefront of the fight to pass legislation that complies with the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons Living with Disabilities (UN CRPD), an international law passed in 2006 which seeks to recognise, protect and promote the rights of persons with all disabilities globally

    A number of mental health bills have been presented to Nigeria’s National Assembly in the past decade, and none of those bills has complied with the UN CRPD’s (which Nigeria is a party to) guideline of adopting a human rights-respecting approach to mental health conditions.

    This is where She Writes Woman + Zikoko come in

    She Writes Woman, in partnership with Zikoko are using the month of May, internationally recognised as Mental Health Awareness Month, to highlight the challenges faced by people with mental health conditions in Nigeria. The partnership aims to draw attention to the inadequate mental health legislation in the country and mount pressure on the appropriate authorities to pass bills that are UN CRPD compliant.

    With a four-part series set to run through the month of May, this project seeks to humanise the lived experiences people go through when accessing mental health care in Nigeria.  

    For the next four Thursdays by 1 pm, we’ll publish stories that tell the realities of living with a mental health condition in Nigeria. We hope to strike social media conversations and raise awareness about what is being done, the opportunities available, and the challenges that lay ahead.

    [donation]

  • 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.

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

  • Men might not be the most expressive people, especially when it comes to their friendships. Still, friends often go to great extents to help each other out, expressing their affection for each other in other ways without saying, “I love you bro.” I spoke to 5 men about the best things their friends have done for them. Here’s what they had to say.

    Michael

    Last year, I took a loan to commit to a business venture. Unfortunately for me, the business failed and I ran into a huge debt. My boys, Yemi, Babatunde and Tope came through for me without even asking questions. I owe them my life.

    Emmanuel

    I was required to create a presentation at one stage in an interview but I knew nothing about Powerpoint and slides. I reached out to Dan, someone who wasn’t exactly a friend but whom I had gone to secondary school and university with. I called him on the night before the slides were due and he created the presentation for me without collecting payment. The best part was I got the job that changed my life. I’m forever grateful to him.

    Ken

    There was a time I needed to send money home for a family emergency. I had to empty out my account because of the urgency. Unfortunately, my rent was due. I was the risk of getting evicted from my apartment when two of my friends loaned me 150k each for my rent.

    I still had to support my family for a while so I wasn’t able to pay them back for over a year. They never mentioned the loan. When I was ready to repay it, they refused to collect it. They’re my boys and I’ll always be grateful for them.

    Muyiwa

    I met Jide in NYSC camp in Zamfara. When we were both redeployed to Ogun State, I told him I didn’t know where to stay. He offered me accommodation in his family house, free of charge. His family treated me like one of theirs. Thanks to him, I didn’t spend a dime on accommodation during NYSC. Now, we don’t see that often but we ensure we have beer twice or thrice a year.

    Baba

    Back in 2018, I was a starry-eyed, fresh from school, don’t-have-no-connects, ambitious boy from Ibadan. I only knew I wanted to be a lawyer and I wanted to do it in Lagos and it had to be one of those law firms on the island that’d pay me well.

    I didn’t have a dime and everything in Lagos was so expensive. While I was applying for a job, I was posted to a firm that wanted to pay me N10,000 monthly. I had nowhere to stay but the Lord sent me an angel in form of Debe who housed me till I found a job. I couldn’t have made it without him.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

    [donation]

  • Fathers aren’t usually in the news for good things. From buying the wrong diaper sizes to forgetting birthdays, some men clearly need to do better as fathers. Still, there are some solid fathers out there, doing the work, both as men and as fathers. I spoke to 11 women about the best things their dads have done for them.

    Tosin

    My dad has been dead a while so I have no real adult memories of him. However, one memory that stands out was him making deals with me. If I scored above a particular mark, he’d buy me a thing that I want. In JSS 3, he knew I wanted my own laptop so he said if I made all A’s, he’d buy me one. Needless to say, I studied really hard.

    On the day results came in, I excitedly opened the envelope only to find out I had gotten A’s in all subjects but one. He said, “Too bad. We had a deal.” While I was dejected, he asked me to get him something from my room, only for me to find the laptop there. He had bought it way before I even wrote my exams. It was never conditional and he would have bought it for me anyway.

    Tolulope

    As a 7-year-old, I preferred toy cars to dolls. I’d break the cars into pieces and try to put them together and my father would get mad every time I did that. When I didn’t stop, he noticed the trend and decided to try another method.

    He bought a set of screwdrivers, sat me down and taught me how to look for screws and clips. He showed me how to use screwdrivers and how to carefully remove parts and put them back together again. That education propelled me to learn to repair anything that has a screw in it — from phones and TVs to laptops and microwave ovens. I’m forever grateful for my dad.

    Young black girl sitting on dad's knee playing ukulele Stock Video Footage - Storyblocks

    Tofunmi

    TW: Suicide

    I live in the UK while my parents live in Nigeria. At the beginning of my second year of uni, I was dealing with depression. Suicidal, I sent a goodbye note and recording to my Dad’s email, knowing he won’t see it on time. Luckily, my Dad saw it and began to frantically call the police in the city I lived in and the one I travelled to. They searched till they found me, took me home and got me the help I needed. He’s been there for me ever since, gives me space when I need it and doesn’t judge me. I love him so much.

    Deborah

    When I was still in secondary school in 2013, I was beaten and sent home by my class teacher because I hadn’t paid my end-of-the-year party fee. The beating I received gave me a bleeding cut on my thumb. My dad was so furious when he saw the injury that he changed into his military uniform, took me back to school and asked me to point out the teacher. 

    He went to the man, held him up by his trousers and said, “I’ve risked my life to protect and serve this country and I won’t have a civilian do this to my child.” He beat the shit out of him till people came to plead on his behalf. He then made the teacher call back all the students he sent home. I know what he did wasn’t ideal but I love him for doing that for me.

    Adedayo

    Everything my dad has done for me is the best. He literally sacrifices his wants for our happiness. If I were to be more specific though, I would say being there for us as kids. He would always play games like Monopoly and Scrabble with us and take us to parks and game reserves and for me. Buying me my blue Raleigh mountain bike (that I still have today) was the icing on top of the cake. My dad is just amazing.

    Strengthening Father-Daughter Relationships

    Inumidun

    My Dad has done a lot of things I can’t even remember. The one I do remember was when I was supposed to travel back to school. The bus park was crowded and there were very few buses. One finally arrived and it was a physical struggle to get in. My father, without minding his pride or his clothes, struggled with the other passengers to get me a seat in the bus. It really touched my heart and I will never forget it. I will do anything for that man.

    Moyo

    His ever-constant presence is the best thing about him. He’s always just a phone call away to fix any of my problems. He does cute stuff like randomly bringing me foodstuff to emptying his wallet for me whenever we run into each other in town.

    The best thing he’s ever done for me has to be when I was supposed to travel to the Philippines for my masters. The agent who handled my admission process made an error and got me the wrong course. I complained about this but the agent said I could change the course when I arrived there. My father saw how sceptical and scared I was of being stranded in the wrong course in a strange country so he told me I didn’t have to go if I didn’t want to. He didn’t mind forfeiting all the money he had spent on the process. Overall best guy.

    Bolutito

    My dad always sacrifices his needs for my siblings and I, even if it means he has to borrow. The best thing he’s ever done for me was staying with me in the isolation center when I had COVID-19. He had come all the way from Ibadan to Abuja where I schooled. He risked catching COVID and dying just to make sure his baby girl was fine.

    Uju

    He always remembers to buy me Ribena. It’s a big thing for me because most of the time it feels like he only cares about my education. I like that he noticed my favourite drink and keeps getting it for me

    Ada

    My dad introduced me to books and cultivated my love for literature. His library was my library and there was no book to big for his baby to read. He’d take his time to teach us math after work. It’s all because of him I love math.

    Most importantly, he introduced me to music. He listened to a wide variety of genres and that helped me appreciate music. Lastly, he taught me that there was nothing wrong with being soft even though he’s the toughest man I know.

    Ope

    He went to Ife to process my admission. At the time, admissions were processed manually. He took all my documents to ensure they were submitted properly. I love that man.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

    [donation]

  • 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.

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Today’s Man Like is Bolu Okupe, a 27-year old bodybuilder and model living in Paris. He talks about repressing his sexuality until he was in his 20s, having to assert his masculinity and how he deals with internet trolls.

    When did it first hit you that you were a man?

    I don’t think there was any single point where I realised I was a man. Even when I struggled with my sexuality, I knew innately that I was a man. I never called my gender expression into question because through it all, I was secure in myself.

    Tell me about your journey with your sexuality.

    Let me tell you a short story. On the 20th of January 2021, I hit send on an Instagram post that ended up going viral. In that post, I came out as gay. One of the reasons it went viral was because my father is Doyin Okupe, a popular Nigerian politician who championed Nigeria’s anti-LGBT legislation during Goodluck Jonathan’s tenure.  

    Wow.

    I think that sums up my situation.

    When did you realise you were gay?

    I knew I was different since I was 10. I didn’t know I was sexually or romantically attracted to men because I wasn’t sexually aware yet. When I was a student at Dowen College, there was this boy who was my senior I was drawn to. I was always around him. I didn’t realise what I had then was a crush. In retrospect, that was when I started to see the signs that I was attracted to men. I think it wasn’t until I was 15 that I was certain. My hormones started to rage, and I was fully aware of sex and sexuality. 

    How did becoming certain affect you?

    I fought very intense personal battles. I didn’t start exploring with men until my 20s because I was trying to suppress my feelings. I felt guilt and shame, especially because I came from a religious family. I cried and prayed and begged God every night to fix me and turn me straight. Growing up in a religious home makes you feel like there’s something wrong with you for feeling differently. There were mental battles as well — I was depressed for several months and started abusing alcohol and weed just to make the mental torture stop.

    I used to force myself to date and sleep with women. After I came out, some of those girls came to ask me if our relationships were fake. 

    Were they fake?

    I’m not going to say it wasn’t real. I liked them. Outside of physicality, I bonded emotionally with them. I believe you can have emotional connections with anybody regardless of their gender or your sexuality. I may not have been all the way honest with them but then again, I wasn’t being honest with myself.

    When did you start being honest with yourself?

    One day, I just said, “Fuck it. If I’m gay, I’m gay.” Fortunately for me, I lived in the UK at the time where you could be openly gay without any fear. 

    How did your family react to this?

    I had actually told my family. I used to be very dramatic so I called a family meeting with my older brother and mother when I was a teenager and said, “I’m sorry guys, but I think I’m queer.” So they always kinda knew. 

    I never discussed it with my dad. I was surprised when I heard him say that he had always known I was gay during an interview. I used to make queer content on my YouTube channel and some of it must have found its way to him.

     

    What was your relationship with your dad like, growing up?

    I moved to the UK at a young age, so we never really had a close relationship, but it was good. Even now, with our differences, we talk on the phone often. One thing I’m never going to do is go anywhere to bash his name. I owe a lot of my life to him. While I no longer depend on him, he was responsible for me. It’s thanks to him I was able to travel to the UK and France, where I currently live. I’m always going to have that gratitude for the things he’s done for me.

    Do you think things would have been different if you had grown up with him?

    Definitely, and not in a good way. I would never have been comfortable with expressing myself or exploring my sexuality. I recognise the privilege that allowed me to grow up in a different country. I know that queer Nigerians don’t have that the privilege to live openly because of how homophobic Nigerians are. I’m satisfied with the life I’ve lived, so I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

    Interesting. Do people often question your masculinity because of your sexuality?

    Of course. All the time. When I came out, mean homophobic people were in the comments replying with “yass queen” and “congratulations Miss Bolu” in obvious attempts to feminise me. There’s a stereotype that all gay men are hyperfeminine. I don’t even think it’s just a Nigerian homophobia issue. It’s a global notion that needs changing. There are different types of gay men and that’s okay. This is why it’s important to have different representations of gay men in the media. We don’t get to see a lot of masculine gay men, probably because it’s not as sensational.

    I imagine you are a target of a lot of bullying and homophobia, being the son of a prominent Nigerian who supported the passing of Nigeria’s anti-LGBT law. How do you deal with it?

    Frankly, I just laugh. I recognise that a lot of people are lost. I’m not trying to make excuses for them, but when you’ve grown up in such a religious culture and you’ve been indoctrinated daily since your childhood, it becomes all you know. It takes a certain amount of exposure, open-mindedness and willingness to learn to be able to divest yourself of homophobia. I’m really not surprised by the backlash I get for being gay.

    Hmm.

    I don’t think that every person who is homophobic is actually a bad person. I think that they are just operating based on what they know. They don’t know anything else until they make the decision to unlearn what they’ve been taught and not everyone is capable of doing that. 

    I’m fortunate to have thick skin, so I’m not really bothered by what people say. I get the vilest, abusive remarks from people in the comments section of my IG even though I’ve never done anything to hurt any one of them. Thankfully, none of it gets to me. There’s also some positivity from people who show their support and let me know that I’m not alone. I get DMs and emails from people who say they were positively impacted by my situation, and honestly, I’d do it all again if given another chance.

    That’s good to hear. 

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

  • As told to Femi

    We hope for easy lives. But life doesn’t always go the way the wish. I spoke to Balo*, a an educational program advisor. We talked about fending for his family when he lost his father and a culture that does now allow men to grieve. We had an interesting chat.

    My dad died when I was 16, and everything changed. He passed after a prolonged illness. We’re not quite sure what it was, but he was diabetic. It had been just one month since I resumed university when I received the call to come home. I cried for days but people didn’t let me grieve, constantly urging me to be strong because I was now the man of the house and I had to be strong for my mother and sisters.

    He was a government official and we were doing well. He enrolled me in one of the most expensive universities in Nigeria just before he died. I knew him as a protector and provider whom no responsibility was too heavy for. We weren’t very close but I know if he had lived long enough, we would have been buddies. My mother was distraught and slipped into a deep depression because my dad was the sole provider. She was a housewife and it wasn’t until after he died that she tried to get a job.

    I was the oldest child. I had two younger sisters who were still in primary school. I wanted to drop out of school because I knew my mother would be unable to keep up with four years of tuition, alongside my siblings’ school fees. However, she made me promise her never to drop out, no matter the circumstances. She intended to collect loans to keep up with my tuition. She asked for loans from almost everyone we knew, including my dad’s friends. They all turned her down. They were worried that people would think they were having an affair with my mother if they gave her money. I’m not sure what she had in mind for handling our finances, seeing as she had no job, but I promised her anyway.

    My mom had some money saved up and opened a provisions store but the proceeds weren’t making a dent in our expenses. My dad also left behind a bar which he started up shortly before he died, but it was barely profitable. As the firstborn, I knew I had to step up and fill my dad’s shoes even though I had no idea how. 

    After the burial, I went back to school. But my sisters had to stop school for a while. I found that I was unable to study and writing exams were difficult, due to the grief of losing my dad and the troubles on the homefront. To avoid flunking out of school, I decided to attend and focus on classes. I also made the acquaintance of my lecturers and HODs.

    In my second year, I met Mr Subomi*, a lecturer in my department. He thought I was a smart guy and pitied my condition.  He started to give me past questions, areas of concentration and potential questions. My grades improved, and I was doing okay. 

    22 Signs Your Children Are Way Too Spoiled | Best Life

    I knew my mom could not keep up with my school fees. I needed to figure out a way to make some money. I had the idea to use the tips I was getting from my lecturer to draw up potential exam questions and sell these to my classmates. The questions were usually 80% correct. My school had a lot of rich kids who didn’t want to study, so my exam selling business flourished. With this money, I was able to pay my own school fees, send money home for my sister’s school fees and also some money for my mom to invest in the bar business. Even with all the money I was making, I didn’t have a lot of extra money lying around after settling my school fees and my family’s needs.

    I sold exam questions for the rest of my stay in school. Mr Subomi would supply me with areas to concentrate on, and I would draft them into potential questions, sell them to my classmates and give him a share of the profit. There were times when I couldn’t make school fees because Mr Subomi would too be scared to pass me exam tips because school inspectors were monitoring the faculty closely. I had to beg for an extension. My dad’s friends ghosted us except for one of them who chipped in from time to time.

    Eventually, I grew the bar into a hotel from what I made from selling exam questions and what I made from the bar itself.  My family no longer had to rely on handouts. I could also put my younger sisters through school and that made me really happy and take care of their needs.

    My examination question-selling business rounded up when I graduated.  I did not attend my convocation ceremony. Ridden with guilt, I could not bring myself to collect a certificate I obtained doing what I did. If I faced the same circumstances, knowing what I know now, I would take a different path. However, I’m no longer plagued by that feeling. I did what I had to do for my family.

    Now, I work for an international academic organisation. It’s a remote job that allows me to run my farm and the hotel.

    I’m not where I want to be yet, because most of the money I make goes into paying my sisters’ school fees and other expenses, but I’m certain I’ll get there someday.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

  • May Day, Workers’ Day or Labour Day, is a public holiday celebrated in many countries across the world. While it usually occurs in May, the date varies across countries. However, here in Nigeria, May 1st is a constant. 

    So how can you get the best of this holiday knowing full well that it’s just a day? Check out the list of activities below for the one that interests you most!

    1. Host Indoor Games

    Invite friends and neighbours to come and play games. Put your PS5, chess boards, cards or karaoke machines to serious work. It will be good, inexpensive fun with your favourite people. 

    2. Give yourself/ family a treat

    So you don’t want to spend the day locked up with the family because it will seem boring for everyone? Then go to Ibom Hall in Uyo, Akwa Ibom State and see a fantastic stage play by Duke of Shomolu Production titled Ibiom: When Doves Fly featuring Ini Edo! It is sponsored by MTN Foundation and promises to be your best theatre experience yet. If you are elsewhere in Nigeria and cannot make it to Uyo, you can purchase tickets online and enjoy the experience virtually. Get your tickets here.

    3. Create your own adventure at the LCC

    For nature lovers looking for a bit of adventure, the Lekki Conservation Centre is the place to be. There are fun activities you can try out including picnicking, sight-seeing, tree climbing, volleyball and the famous canopy walk. We must warn you though: the longest canopy walk in Africa is not for the faint-hearted.

    4. Pamper yourself. You deserve it

    Treat yourself to a day of rest and relaxation. You can give yourself a beauty treatment, facials, massages, manicures, pedicures and makeovers. You can lodge in a hotel to enjoy a different atmosphere and you can also opt to spend the day at a spa with your friends instead. 

    5. Learn something new

    Try out something you have never done before with either friends or family. Try painting, swimming, fishing, reading, etc. YOLO!

    We leave you with the following very important words to live by: Try dey enjoy. Problem no dey finish.

    [donation]

  • 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.

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    This week’s Man Like is Tex, a father, lawyer and satirist. He talks growing up as the first child with three brothers, raising three girls in a patriarchal society and experiencing grief when he lost his friend.

    At what point did you start to feel like you were a man?

    I would say when I started driving at 16. That was the point my father started asking about my schedule rather than just make me run errands for him. It was at this point that I had some autonomy. 

    What was growing up like for you?

    I grew up in Ibadan as the first child of four boys. My dad taught at the university and my mom joined him when she got her PhD. 

    My parents were also agriculturists and I used to help them with their horticulture side hustle, planting flowers and stuff like that. My dad got a contract to supply cashew seedlings to the River Basin Authority, so we would plant all day long. In the evenings, we would play Scrabble which I started playing when I was studying literature. My brothers and I would go swimming and play basketball twice a week at the Nigerian Breweries. A lot of our family were around Ibadan and Ife, so we saw our cousins regularly. 

    Growing up was fun, but there were challenging times, especially when ASUU went on long strikes and my parents were without pay for six to nine months.

    What were your parents like?

    While it wasn’t labelled as feminism at the time, my dad was a believer in equal opportunity. Whenever we were with our cousins, it was usually my male cousins who were allocated domestic chores. He never considered anything to be “for the girls.” He’d say, “You guys are the oldest two, so sort it out.” I’m also one of the few privileged ones who, in over 40 years of marriage, never heard his father raise his voice at their mother. Not to say they didn’t disagree, but even when my mom was the more agitated person, he’d just quietly say his piece and lock up. Never heard him shout or say any hurtful words. He’s also very meticulous and organised, so he ended up being the president or the secretary of any association he was a member of and would get re-elected.

    My mom was quite supportive. It was never a house where the father was the infallible head and final authority. Before we were 10, my mom had us in the kitchen, helping and cooking. Together, my parents made a very Christian, balanced and egalitarian home.

    And now you have your own family.

    Yes. I have three daughters aged 7, 11 and 13. The universe has its way of bringing balance because I never had any sisters and now all my children are girls.

    How would you describe your relationship?

    We’re mostly friends, but you know how it is when children get older. They’re not as cute as they used to be, but we’re still friends. We’ve tried to provide an atmosphere where they feel free to talk to us about anything. Sometimes, they come to me first on stuff that are traditionally “mommy topics.” 

    In terms of discipline, they’ve always been good girls so we’ve never had to be strict. When they were young, my wife and I decided that discipline would a discussion to understand what was wrong. I don’t want them to have the normal Nigerian upbringing where they think beating is a normal thing so that when they’re adults in their own relationships, they know that violence of any type isn’t acceptable.

    Are there any peculiarities of raising daughters?

    For one, I’ve not had much trouble in the way of discipline because boys are more boisterous and inclined to do silly things like jump off the bed, trying to fly. Secondly, we live in a world that is kinder to boys and men. Women are more likely to be victims of violence and discrimination, so there are certain concerns that are unique to having female children.

    Then again, try as you may, you can’t be there for your children 24/7, and the best you can do is to equip them with tools to navigate those times when they have to be responsible for themselves.

    I learned you’re newly qualified as a lawyer in the UK. Congratulations. How did the Nigeria-to-UK move happen?

    We were doing okay in Nigeria, but after the results of the 2015 elections were announced, I started having concerns about the future of the country. I wasn’t confident that a good life for my kids in Nigeria wasn’t achievable anymore. That was when I started thinking about relocating. I went to the UK for a quick trip and an opportunity opened up in the line of work I wanted to do, which I promptly grabbed. 

    Couldn’t have been easy uprooting your life like that. What was the hardest part about leaving Nigeria?

    The thing about moving when you’re older is that you’re giving up a lot of things you’ve worked for over the years. It means giving up social and professional capital and moving to a place where you are just an ordinary person starting afresh. You have to requalify in your profession or start a new career. You are giving up the familiarity of home. In Nigeria, your friends, work and the children’s school were in the same general area. You had a support system like people who could watch your kids or domestic help. Abroad, you don’t know that many people and there are many trade-offs to make. In my experience, settling into a new environment takes three to five years, to find your feet and establish new connections.

    Did leaving Nigeria affect your relationships with your daughters?

    It did. While in Lagos, there were some things we could outsource. For example, we didn’t have to be the one to follow them to the salon or drop them off at their grandma’s. Here, there’s none of that delegation. It allowed me to experience their formative years in closer proximity. Still, the basis of our relationship didn’t change. We’re just as accessible as we were in Nigeria, if not more.

    Away from your little girls to your big woman, how did you meet your wife?

    Our relationship began in secondary school. I was a year ahead of her and when it was time to graduate, the principal thought that I should pass on my knowledge as president of the press club to someone else, and the person they nominated was my wife. That was how we met. 

    In December 2005, the school had a reunion party and we met there again. We talked all through that Christmas period. We went for our masters, came back for NYSC and started dating. I think she caught feelings first. 

    Through moving, having children and hustling your careers, how much has your relationship with her changed?

    To some extent. We’ve had children together so our characters have developed not just as lovers but as co-parents as well. When we met, I was a quirky, easygoing and playful kind of guy, and she was the first person I dated who not only didn’t mind those characteristics but liked it. 

    She’s always encouraging me to pursue my interests. When I told her I wanted to start DJing after turning 40, she encouraged me to give it a shot. Because of her, I’m not afraid of trying new things. She’ll tell you she has also changed my dress sense, but it’s my word against hers.

    How about your daughters? How have they changed you?

    I wasn’t much of a hard guy before, but since I’ve had my daughters, if I’m watching a movie, for example, and there’s something happening to a child, particularly a girl child, ah, it will catch my chest. So I guess I think I’m more sensitive to the issues that girls and women go through. It’s different when it becomes your responsibility to prepare your daughters to deal with these issues or create a soft landing from them. I’ve always been an expressive and gentle person so being a Girl Dad works out for me quite nicely. 

    Also, my wife thinks I’m less patient with male children than I am with female children. If a friend’s son is being naughty, I’m more stern with them. I feel like children should be expressive but not unruly. Unruliness gets to me and perhaps boys are generally more unruly than girls.

    When was the last time you cried?

    One of my best friends died in 2017. We went to university together and his death hit me really hard. Thinking about it now brings a lump to my throat again. That was the last time I cried properly.

    How did you cope?

    Grief is like a big ball of pain in a box. When you shake the box, it hits the walls and causes more pain. As time passes, the ball gets smaller, so it hits less,  but once in a while, something will happen that will push the ball to the wall and the grief washes over you afresh, like when you’re listening to a song you used to bump together or watching a movie you laughed together about. There was a time I couldn’t remember him without crying. Now, I just feel a lump in my throat. 

    I’m sorry to hear about that. What’s different about being a man in Nigeria?

    I think the culture in Nigeria has a prescription for manhood. We’re raised to believe we have to be tough. There’s also the influence of church culture from the mid-90s about the man being the head and the expected deference and submission to you by the women in your life. Compared to being a man outside Nigeria, society is still patriarchal in the sense that men still get paid more than women on average for doing the same work.

    Growing up, you hear a lot about how the man is supposed to be the provider but when you talk to people, you find stories about how their mum’s helped not just morally but financially.

    Interesting. One last question. What does a relaxing weekend look like for you?

    My ideal weekend involves me DJing on Club Isol8 on Friday nights and listening to music while barbecuing on Saturday afternoon. Recently, I picked up cycling so I go for quick rides on Sunday mornings.

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

    Want to disappear down a rabbit hole of men-focused content? Click here.

    [donation]

    [donation]

  • Puberty is a period of changes in an adolescent’s body. It can also be a very confusing period for them if they aren’t armed with the right information. From breaking voices to hair growing where it shouldn’t, I spoke to five Nigerian men about experiencing puberty.

    Ben

    Puberty didn’t take me by surprise because my friends and I had always talked about it since JSS 1 so I knew what to expect. It all started when I was 12. I started becoming more sexually aware and charged and noticing pubic hair growing. I felt elated, but not for very long.

    I never got a talk from my parents, which isn’t surprising. Still, I didn’t feel lost thanks to the weirdest conversations I had with friends. 

    Azeez

    TW: Suicide

    Puberty was crazy. Hair growth all over, my voice breaking and getting deeper, getting hard-ons in the most awkward places and times and a consuming interest in butts and long penises. I was a hot mess of hormones. Most notable was my first wet dream when I was in JSS 3. I had no idea what semen was and I was confused as hell as to what this sticky, off-white, tangy-tasting (yes, I tasted it) thing was. I thought the wet dream was my fault and I was too mortified to ask any of the other guys if they had similar experiences.

    The resumption in SS 1 was wild. Everyone was developing and boy, it was a heaven of tits, asses and a constant boner and blue balls. I took it on myself to explore with porn, hentai and masturbation. I was deeply religious so there was a good chunk of guilt, self-loathing and depression. I didn’t get any information from my parents because their version of the talk was, “don’t watch porn or have sex because that will grieve the holy spirit and if you piss him off too much he can fuck you up or kill you.” My mental health was in shambles and by SS3, I had several failed suicide attempts.

    Thankfully, my uncle Gbenga was the male role model every boy needs in that phase in his life, because omo, if not for him I would just be another statistic used to argue about mental health and suicide.

    Justin

    I’m not even sure when puberty started. I didn’t get any facial hair but I noticed my voice was breaking. I also started having wet dreams which I thought were super awkward. I think I was in SS 1 when it hit me. I was in boarding school. My parents didn’t do much in the way of talking to me about puberty, only stuff like, “study hard so you can be successful, pray for your future wife and telling me I had to remain a virgin.” Nothing about what was happening to my body.

    I had nobody to talk to about it and I didn’t want to discuss it with my mates because they might tease you or insult you with it on a bad day. So I just paid attention in biology classes and accepted that this was my life now.

    Tosin

    I was 9 years old and in boarding school when puberty started. I was one of the youngest boys in school at the time. All the changes and everything happened to me while I was in the hostel because I spent more time there than I did at home. 

    My parents were alright but I guess not talking about sex was the normal thing back then. They were present for me for PTA meetings and all of that but to talk about sex? Nah.  I had to figure it out by myself by reading a lot of books and Hearts magazines, as I was a voracious reader. I also heard stuff here and there from seniors. My first memory of a sexual desire was in JSS 2. That was when I realised that boys are really different from girls [laughs].

    Malik

    My experience was weird. I didn’t get any talk from my parents and I was in boarding school. I just remember being very upset that my adopted brother was growing hair in his armpit and on his balls before me, who was supposed to be older than him! It was traumatic.

    Puberty didn’t come with very dramatic hormonal changes for me. It just made me conscious that there was something really wrong with me. I would have boners for no reason, often for boys in hostel. This was especially difficult to hide when I had a shared bathroom. So I had to take my bath too early or later than others to avoid boys and boners.

    Want to disappear down a rabbit hole of men-focused content? Click here.

    [donation]

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

    [donation]