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  • 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.”

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  • 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.

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  • 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.

    The subject of today’s Man Like is Timileyin, a project and facilities manager. He talks about his father’s imprint on his character, how his parents’ marriage guides his approach to romantic relationships and why crying is therapeutic.

    When did you realise you were a man?

    Every time I open an episode of ‘Man Like‘ and see this question, I always wonder if I’m a man yet. When does one become a man? Is it when you move out of your parents’ house or when you get your first job and stop depending on pocket money? Is it when you start giving your parents an allowance? 

    However, some of the experiences that shaped me as a man happened when I was in university. In my third year, I was out of school for a year. Instead of being idle, I decided to work for my dad’s construction company. I worked every day, Mondays to Saturdays. It was the hardest I had ever worked. The experience made me realise what my dad went through to put food on our table. It made me realise that raising a family, providing and trying to set your kids’ up for success no easy. I realised that combining all those things shouldn’t be just one person’s job — it’s a heavy burden.

    Every young man needs that kind of experience so they start to think, early on, “How am I going to provide for my family? How will I make enough money to raise kids.”  

    Taking a lead cue from my father, I realised that taking care of family is paramount. Seeing what my dad did, I wanted to do even better. Apart from my five siblings, we had two or three cousins living with us at any given time. My father had to provide for about ten people in the household, whether his business was going well or not.

    He sounds like a stand-up guy.

    I recently received a call from my younger sister who’s in her final year of university. She told me that my dad asked her to send me her school fees invoice. I definitely didn’t see that coming. For context, I have two older brothers ahead of me. So asking me to pay her school fees was a big leap. It was a “wait, I’m really getting old” moment. It was the first time I was responsible for someone.

    What was your relationship with your father like?

    One of the most important things about my father is that he always showed up. Perhaps owning his own business made him wiggle room to always make time for his kids. Along with my mom, they were very present in our lives and we never lacked support from either of them. However, I feel like we could have had a better relationship.

    How so?

    As I said, he always showed up. School events, matriculations, graduations and prize giving days (because, you know, I’m smart like that), he was always there with my mother. In a way, it felt like he owed that to us as part of his promise to give us the best education he could afford. 

    However, I think there were some points in my life where I could have used a good father-son conversation. But we didn’t have a relationship like that. The only time we had a semblance of that was when I was working with him during the year I was out of school. We mostly just got along and vibed with each other on the peripheral, but I think it could have been a more rewarding relationship. 

    Our relationship has evolved now and we have more conversations about my plans but that’s pretty much it. Sometimes I feel like he could have been closer to us, his children. The typical African parent approach of punishing every transgression might have driven a wedge between us.

    What other lessons did you learn from your father?

    Diplomacy in relationships. I learned this from my mother and father. In the 20+ years I lived with them, I only saw them quarrel three times. Hours after they fight, you’ll find them laughing with each other. Their relationship gives me joy. They were always in each other’s spaces and faces and you could tell that they loved each other deeply. My parents are my blueprint for approaching relationships.

    So how do you approach relationships?

    Communication is very important to me. I need to know that a romantic partner puts all their cards on the table. Things you hide invariably begin to fester and that causes animosity and resentment. That’s a death sentence for any relationship. There will be fights but that’s natural because you’re different people. The approach to that should be “us vs. the problem”, not “me vs. my partner.”

    That’s a wholesome way to handle romantic relationships. What about platonic relationships?

    I handle my platonic relationships just the same way. I am up-front about the relationship and make sure fights don’t linger. I ensure there’s an open line of communication at all times. To me, the bro code means being present in your friends’ lives. It means that your friends know that there is always a safe space with you. It’s not about encouraging or covering up bad behaviour for your friends.

    Not unrelated – what are your thoughts about how Nigerian men handle toxic masculinity?

    I don’t think toxic masculinity as a concept should even exist. I don’t believe people should cage themselves and not do what comes naturally to them, regardless of their gender. It doesn’t matter what people think. It doesn’t matter if people think you’re being “feminine.”

    Interesting.

    One time, I was hanging out with a female friend. A male friend called and after the conversation, I ended the call with “I love you, my guy.” She was shocked and asked if I was gay. This is the same mentality older Nigerians have about how men should act. We claim to be smarter and more exposed than the older generation but still hold on to harmful views. We tell men to be strong, not to show emotion, not to cry. Men owe it to themselves to unlearn such harmful views and teach the younger generation that it’s okay to show emotion. Crying doesn’t make you less of a man. It’s therapeutic and really eases the tension you’re feeling. 

    Toxic masculinity also makes it difficult for men to seek help for mental health issues despite the immense trauma we go through as Nigerians. It’s also the reason Nigerian men don’t look after themselves because they think skincare is feminine. Is it only women that have skin?

    Speaking of women – what was your most memorable heartbreak?

    LMAO, ah! I don’t think I’ve experienced heartbreak a lot but the most memorable one had to be the person who broke up with me because I was too broke. Fresh out of school, I had just started working. I had small change in my pocket so I didn’t think I was that broke. Omo. It shook me to my core. I guess she had expectations I wasn’t meeting.

    Did you cry?

    Nah. The last time I cried was when I had a fight with someone I was dating. It was a long-distance relationship and it just seemed very frustrating. Not having your person by your side and fighting them at the same time was just overwhelming. I don’t cry a lot but I found it therapeutic.

    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.”

  • For the average African man, the assumption is that there’s marriage somewhere on the horizon once they are in the twilight of their late twenties. Playful jests of “when will you marry” start to chime in from all angles. However, not all men believe in for better for worse, nor in death doing them part. To them, a life lived without vows or a married partner is ideal. I spoke to 6 men who don’t want to get married. Here’s what they had to say.

    Seun, 31

    I’m quite resolute not to get married but recently, societal pressure is getting to me. At some point, you start to wonder if you’re the problem. My baby sister is getting married next month. After her introduction, I faced a panel of uncles and relatives who wanted to know if something was wrong with me. My uncle never stops advertising me to women. My mom is constantly praying and asking people to talk to me. She even makes my friends talk to me about it. Most times, I laugh off their concern, but deep inside I care about my mom’s happiness. However, it seems foolish to marry a person just to make her happy. Plus, I have siblings. They’ll get married and make her happy.

    Ikenna, 26

    I don’t want to get married because I don’t expect to live very long, due to some hereditary health conditions. I don’t want to get married to someone who I’ll end up leaving high and dry if I die. Same reason I don’t want to have kids. There’s some light pressure from family but it’s mostly friendly banter. 

    Toni Dunt, 29

    I’m not built for marriage. My personality just doesn’t fit into that sphere. I want to have children, but marriage is off the cards. All my children will come from one woman. I’ll cater for her and the children, but I don’t want to be responsible for her happiness. If she decides to marry someone else, that’s fine too. I’m not willing to sacrifice for anybody. It’s important that I have kids though, they’re something to look forward to in my old age. But all things said, I am only human and I believe in the word of God. If God says otherwise, who am I to say no?

    Obi, 32

    I’ve never considered being married. Thinking about it makes me cringe. The idea of waking up in the morning to the same person over and over is unbearable. Asides from that, I’ve been surrounded by failed marriages. My mom had come to terms with the fact that I was never going to marry before she passed. She thought her and my dad’s marriage had something to do with my decision. My dad already has 4 grandchildren, so he’ll be fine.

    Teflon, 27

    TW: Suicide

    Growing up, my father and mother quarrelled all the time till they split in 2007. They got back together in 2013 but my mom passed in 2014. My dad went on to date several women and eventually married in 2017. A few months later, they started fighting and were divorced soon after. So forgive me if I’m not exactly thrilled about marriage. I like the idea of having my own person, but I have PTSD from women leaving me has driven me to the decision not to marry. I have an intense fear of women leaving me and would hate to get married only for my wife to leave as well. I don’t want to be another divorce statistic. Better to be a single man without expectations than getting married only to have it end abruptly. I’m also worried that the frustrations of marriage and family life might drive me to jump over the Third Mainland Bridge one day.

    Loneliness isn’t a problem. I feel lonely when I’m in relationships. I’m probably not a people person. I’m made to be alone. My family is fine with my decision. They’re okay with anything that doesn’t offend our religion.

    Omari, 21

    My parents were separated before I was born. Growing up, I had to endure endless fights and the worst toxicity between the two of them. Both of them had different stories about how I was born and I don’t know which to believe. 

    My experiences in romantic relationships have been bad too. I don’t blame the women I’ve dated. It’s just that I love too much and nobody can handle that over a long period. Being an only child, I’ve learned to enjoy my company and I plan on living the rest of my life alone.

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  • The Nigerian society can be quite conservative. While the majority of older Nigerians struggle to enforce these religious and colonial-era dictates, a new crop of men is questioning the norm by wearing hairstyles outside the usual low-cut and cleanshaven look. I spoke to five of those men about their experiences going against the grain in a conservative society like Nigeria.

    Godwin

    A pastor’s kid with a church leadership role who graduated from Covenant Univerisity is the last person anyone would expect to start wearing dreadlocks, but I did it anyway. It started during my internship break from uni. It was against school rules to keep a full head of hair or facial hair, so the first time I got the chance to do it was during my internship break. That was six months of fights with my mom, with her always saying “Your hair is too full, I don’t like it. It doesn’t look good.”

    Fast forward to last year. After the lockdown, I twisted my hair for the first time and hid from my parents for some time until they saw a picture of me and called me “Gospel Naira Marley.” I knew I’d have to step down from church leadership.

    My mother and I had several rounds of arguments, which I usually won by saying, “You did what you wanted during your youth. This is my time, and this is what I want.” My dad shouted and shouted. I followed him to church with the hair, with the whole congregation staring at me.

    I think they’ve come to terms with it. At least, I haven’t been disowned yet. I’ve just fixed my locs and I’m going home for Easter. Let’s see if they’ve truly accepted my style [laughs].

    Sometimes, I still have to wear a beanie to unfamiliar places to avoid scrutiny, especially when I’m likely to encounter the police. We all know how quickly that can go left.

    Zurk

    I knew what I was getting myself into when I started wearing locs, but I didn’t mind. To be honest, I revel in it. One of the funniest things is how people call me “Marlian” when they can’t figure out my name.

    The downside is I’m not in contact with over half of my family because of my hair. It’s a deeply religious family and if anything is out of line with the “bible”, it’s all-out war. It’s more about going against tradition than religion because those two concepts have become mixed up.

    There’s an uncle who I hadn’t seen in a long time and the first thing he says when he sees me was to go on a tirade. “Does this look responsible on you?” he kept yelling. I just smiled, because I’m all out of my quota of fucks to give.

    Now, I stay as far away from my extended family. I live with my mom and she has no problem with it. I’m a student and a freelance writer so there’s not much friction on that end. I’ve had multiple incidents with the police. One time, they stopped me at Sabo, pushed me into their minibus and drove me around while going through my phone and questioning me. They eventually let me out at Yaba.

    Early

    My hair has been in twists since 2019. It’s grown a lot since then and I find it’s been mostly women telling me how much they love it and asking about my haircare routine. I get the occasional glare from strangers, but for the most part, people don’t act weird around me.

    I get a lot of suggestions about it too. Some people think I should loc it while my boss at work wants me to add some colour to it. Most men tell me they’re inspired to grow theirs like mine. I’m always interested in hearing their stories and I gladly share any tips I can. The other day, my Uber driver asked if my hair was real and told me how he wanted to grow his out as well. It’s always a great conversation starter. Then again, I’m not sure if that’s mostly because I’m a pretty man.

    Quizzzy

    I wear locs and not just because I’m a musician but because of how it looks on my head. It’s twisted and styled to sit like a crown on my head. It’s quite the sight. I’ve had it for six years so you can only imagine the length when I let my hair down. Whenever I’m walking down the road or in a cab, I see people staring at me like an alien that just arrived on earth in a UFO.

    It’s not all bad. Sometimes, I get compliments, mostly from women. I’ve even made strong friendships from conversations that started over my hair. Other people go out of their way to make me feel uncomfortable by giving me condescending looks. You can literally feel the disdain in their eyes.

    As neat and nicely packed as it looks, I’ve accepted the fact that I can’t work in a bank or corporate office. You should have seen the look on HR’s face when I showed up for my first interview at an architecture firm. That’s fine though. I’m a brand/motion graphics designer so who needs a corporate office anyway?

    Let’s not even get into the times I’ve been profiled and randomly searched by the police. One particular encounter was jarring. I had just finished a studio session and was on my way home in an Uber. They stopped the driver and started asking me questions. They went through my phone to try to find something incriminating but they found nothing. The officers kept calling me names and said they would kill me there and nothing would happen. I was scared for my life. Even though they couldn’t pin anything on me, they collected 10,000 from me before letting me go.

    On the family front, it’s a bit of a mixed bag. My mom and siblings like it, but I have a step-sister I haven’t seen in years because she threatened to cut it off while I sleep the next time we see. I posted a picture on Facebook and one of my cousins commented that I had better cut my hair before she comes to Lagos. I blocked her immediately.

    Jerry

    I’ve had five different hairstyles. I started with curls last year, which caused a lot of trouble with my mom, the extended family and nosy family friends, mostly because of my religious background. I moved on to twists and pierced my nose and was trying to live with it lowkey. Going to work was no problem as my boss was fine with all of that. 

    It was going fine until someone (I later discovered was my cousin) sent my picture to my mom on the day of NYSC POP. I received a very angry call from my mom and then my older brother who said if I got myself arrested for looking like a thug, it’s on me. My mom’s friend who was a pastor called and threatened to report me to God. I got sick of it all. My mom made me comb out the twist when I went home.

    The most annoying part of it all is the questions I’m asked all the time. “This one that you pierced your noses, are you sure you’re straight?” Why are you making your hair, are you gay?” “Why do you do a manicure?” “Why are your nails painted?” I  just ignore all the questions because they’ll never understand.

    Dunsin

    Since I was a child, I always loved keeping an afro. I saw pictures of rappers and told my mom I was going to keep an afro but she wasn’t having any of that. After secondary school, I was old enough to stand my ground, so my mom would call an extended family meeting and they would plead with me to cut my hair. Most times, I declined. One time, it nearly became a physical altercation.

    In uni, I was finally free to do what I wanted and I was wearing an afro every time. This wasn’t an issue until my final year when a lecturer said no boy with an afro would be allowed to present their research topic. This made no sense, as the lecturer was a supposedly educated and exposed one. Why should it matter what style I’m wearing? Eventually, I cut my hair short for the last time.

    After graduation, I moved to plait my hair and surprisingly, it didn’t attract too much attention from the police as I feared. I like growing my hair. It can be tedious sometimes, but when you step out, the compliments you get makes it feel like it was worth it. I run an agency and my clients love it. It’s a great conversation starter.

    QUIZ: What Colour Should You Dye Your Hair?

  • 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.

    The subject for today’s “Man Like” is Rilwan. He’s a lawyer and premium baby boy. He tells us about the responsibility that comes with living alone, finding it easier to form deeper connections with women than with men and how Amala is life.

    You know the drill.

    Lmao. The first time I had my “man like” moment was at the beginning of 2018 when I moved out of my parent’s house. Moving out was significant because I was suddenly responsible for myself and a lot of choices. Up until then, I’d been fortunate enough to have the support of both of my parents. 

    What were some of the challenges you faced?

    A lot of it was tied to being responsible. I was suddenly living alone with no one monitoring my entry and exit time. I was also now responsible for the choices I made and the company I kept. The question became: “What do I do with my newfound liberties?”

    As someone who has always felt a deeper sense of responsibility, especially when compared to my peers, I had to constantly check myself. I had to ensure that I was as responsible as possible. Although I still had reckless interludes. Lmao. 

    I was expecting you to talk about curtains and furnishing challenges. Are you rich or something?

    Lmaoooo. I’m not rich oh. I moved in with a responsible housemate, so that made furnishing the apartment a lot easier. 

    I remember that one “annoying” challenge I faced from moving out was having to fuel my car myself. When I was living at home, my parents used to fuel my car sometimes and that made things soft for me. After moving out, I was notorious for always driving my car on E — my girlfriend at the time constantly dragged me for this. 

    Till today, I’m amazed when I see people who drive around with full tanks for no reason — I keep wondering why.

    Lmaoooo. 

    I also had a challenge trying to keep track of all my expenses. I haven’t gotten the hang of it, but I keep trying regardless. I guess it’s part of trying to be more intentional with where I put my money. 

    Interesting. Tell me about some things moving out made easier for you.

    Firstly, it reduced my commute time because I was closer to my office. Living alone also removed the burden of mum and dad calling me if I was running late from work. Not having to answer to anyone to a larger extent was one of the things I valued the most. It was also when I moved out that I started thinking about marriage in a deeper sense. In fact, I  thought I’d be married by next year. 

    I —

    Lmao. I had everything figured out and a plan. If I could trace the source of the conviction, I’d say that in addition to other factors, moving out played a big role. It was just like check, I’ve done this. I’ve done that. So I can do this next. 

    Energy. When are we wearing this aso-ebi? 

    It’s a long story, but there were fundamental circumstances around the relationship that couldn’t be resolved, so we ended things. 

    Issues like?

    It’s a long story…

    We have some time.

    It’s a long story. 

    Oh. 

    Yeah.

    …

    In between trying to figure out where my life is headed and trying to show up, I have a lot less incentive for marriage right now. 

    Interesting. Why did you think you were ready then?

    I was sure I had found the right person. I believe a major reason people say they don’t believe in marriage is that they haven’t found the person that’ll make them lock up. At the time I was sure I had found my person, but hey, life happened!  

    Does your experience influence how you navigate romantic relationships these days?

    Sigh.

    It does a whole lot. It’s different when you lose something because you didn’t value it and you realise the value in retrospect. But when you understand the value of what you had and lost it to circumstances beyond you, it hits differently. It’s no longer a case of you didn’t know what you had. It then becomes a situation where you helplessly watch as something of value painfully slips away from you. 

    Photo credit: Aisha Ife

    What this experience does is that it sets expectations for you. You’re always going into romantic relationships using that experience as a benchmark. If nothing else matches it or is better than it, you’re a lot more hesitant to commit. 

    I’m not sure if it’s a problematic thing, but I just feel that we settle so much as Nigerians and marriage and the person we love is something we shouldn’t settle on. 

    I’m jotting.

    Lmao. I always joke that if I continue with this mindset, I’ll spend the rest of my life alone. 

    My unpopular opinion is that the choice of who you end up with is a lot less about love and more about compatibility — does the relationship fit into your family and spirituality goals? Are they team stay or team jaapa? I’m not saying love isn’t important, I just think there are so many considerations to navigate. 

    I’m curious about your red flags for relationships.

    I don’t do “crazy” people.  Some people might find it exciting, but I’m not cut out for the stress that comes with it. 

    I also can’t be with someone who can’t hold a conversation, isn’t genuine and doesn’t have some measure of consistency. I understand that people have different versions of themselves, but I want to be able to know that the version of you I’ll see today will be the same to a large extent as the version I’ll see tomorrow.  

    Naira to dollar exchange rate, I hope you’re listening?

    Lol. 

    Does anything scare you?

    I generally struggle with feelings of inadequacy and I’m constantly asking myself if I’m good enough. It’s a battle of constantly checking myself and reminding myself of my capabilities. This feeling of “not enough” always leaves me fearful that growth opportunities might pass me by. It’s something that I’ll keep working on. 

    Photo credit: Aisha Ife

    Then there’s also the question of purpose: “What am I here for?”  “What’s my end game?” “Where do I see myself in 20 years?” There’s also the part of navigating societal expectations where I find myself asking: do I want to be a father? And what kind of father will I be?

    It’s a lot to think about and I’m thankful for friendships where we’re not shy to talk about our struggles. 

    Tell me about these friendships.  

    They’re mostly with women. Right from primary school, some of my closest friends have been women. I remember that people used to mock me for this, but the truth is I found it easier to form deeper connections with women. With men, I found it difficult to have conversations about the things that were on my mind in quiet moments. Beyond all the jazz and noise, I wasn’t sure I was having real conversations with my male friends. 

    So you don’t have male friends you have deep conversations with?

    I do. In the past year, I’ve been intentional about nurturing deeper relationships with men. I’m very pro-deeper friendships.  

    What’s that experience like?

    It’s not been easy. 

    In my experience, women are a lot more open and honest about their struggles. With men, there’s a whole lot of intentional effort that goes into getting your guy to talk. You have to ask how they are three times before they talk about their issues. These days, as young men who are all struggling to find our place in the world and are facing many challenges, we definitely need to talk. 

    My friends are slowly accepting that someone asking how you really are slaps differently, especially as Nigerian men. As a man in Nigeria or even as a Nigerian, you’re always going through something traumatic. 

    My brother. 

    Have you experienced any pushbacks from trying to form deeper relationships with men?

    For sure. But I’ll never give up. Mostly because I’ve seen what happens when you don’t talk to your friends or just leave them be. 

    Oh. 

     I had a friend from Uni who took her life a couple of years ago. The rumour [whether wrong or right] was that she was struggling with figuring out her place in the world and there was not enough support for her to talk about it. 

    That incident made me feel like I didn’t pay enough attention. It also made me realize how similar we all are at the end of the day. I realise that regardless of any push back I need to always reach out. 

    Photo credit: Aisha Ife

    Because of books and websites where I get to read about the experience of others, I don’t find it discouraging to reach out. Consuming other people’s stories makes me realize that I’m not alone [and no one should be], and there’s no shame in being open about struggles. 

    I feel you. 

    You mentioned something about a lot of your friends being female, I’m curious about that. 

    It’s a lot of dealing with people either calling you a woman wrapper or [wrongly] assuming you’re sleeping with your female friends. At some point, I used to be bothered but I’ve learnt that one thing I owe myself is to live an authentic life. It’s easier to live with myself because I don’t depend on the validation of others. In fact, I sleep better at night. 

    I’m not going to throw away deep, meaningful friendships with my female friends because of what people will or won’t say.

    How do you balance your female friendships with a romantic relationship? Do they clash?

    They do. My best friend in the entire world [even though we don’t do labels] is a woman. What this means is that whenever I’m in a relationship, the dynamics of our relationship changes. 

    It’s not like I cut her off or anything. It’s just making adjustments and respecting my partner enough that I don’t create the wrong impression or find myself in situations beyond my control. This means prioritising my partner at the time and always placing her first.

    Wahala for who is not your number one woman.

    Smh.

    How do you define your masculinity?

    Masculinity is not something I really care about or think about often. However, if you placed a gun to my head asking for a definition, I’d say masculinity involves self-restraint. It’s lowering your ego and accepting responsibility. Being accountable too. Ultimately, it’s a continuous process of learning and unlearning until we’re comfortable enough to make authentic decisions that allow us to sleep better at night. 

    Love it. 

    Random question: what do you think are some things necessary to live a happy life?

     Jollof rice. 

    Party Jollof in the morning and amala with abula in the afternoon. Very key. 

    A life without amala is not a life worth living —Rilwan 2021.

    On a more serious note, I think that to live a “happy” life you need to surround yourself with people who love and care about you unconditionally. People who always want the best for you even when you can’t see it. 

    I see. Do you think you’re surrounded by people who love you unconditionally?

    Yes, I think so. 

    My chest. So sweet. 

    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.

    [donation]

  • Men, who are often considered the wreckers of relationships, are rarely considered as victims of heartbreak. I spoke to four Nigerian men about their experiences. Here’s what they had to say.

    Bayo, 27

    I’m always the one getting broken up with, so I have plenty of break up stories.

    The first one dumped me for no reason. The second one met someone on Twitter and told me she wasn’t attracted to me anymore. She later found out the dude was engaged. The third one was asking me about marriage like a month after I moved to Lagos and because I told her I wasn’t thinking about marriage yet, she and her friends sent me a voice note calling me unprintable names. Last year, she reconnected and apologized and tried to rekindle the relationship. I later found out that at some point she tried to sleep with my best friend probably as a way to spite me.

    But it’s the last one that pained me the most and the only relationship I ever regretted having. I really loved her but she was always paranoid because I was never jealous and we never got into fights. I always had to reassure her I wasn’t going anywhere. She had my phone password and replied to my messages. She would wake me up at 3 in the morning to comfort her till dawn. One time, I was hyping up my friends’ pictures and she got really mad because she thought I was flirting. She threw a tantrum and after I calmed her down, she said it was because she didn’t want to lose me. 

    One day, out of the blue, she asked if I had ever cheated on her. She begged and pleaded for me to tell her, that she wouldn’t get mad. I kept reassuring her that I didn’t. The next day, she called me, upset and crying. I sent her funny videos, memes, sang for her, all in a bid to cheer her up, but she kept crying. The next day, she broke up with me, saying she didn’t feel the same way anymore. I asked if it was my fault but she said “you were perfect,” but she just didn’t like me anymore. I was broken. She asked me not to hate her and she left me standing where I was. I know she cheated on me and broke up with me out of guilt.

    No breakup has hurt me that much because I looked back and felt so stupid because of the way I had invested myself in the relationship. It nearly turned me into a horrible person but I decided not to give her the power. 

    Charles

    I was in 100-level and this was my first proper girlfriend. She had stayed in my house for a couple of days and I had noticed she was moving funny and getting some strange calls. I’m not the type of guy to ask who was calling and all of that, so I let it slide. She told me she wanted to go meet her class rep to submit some assignments, blah blah blah. 

    A couple of hours later, a couple of my guys invited me to go drink beer at a popular hotel near UNILORIN. We had a few drinks and I needed to pee. The path that leads to the toilet goes past some of the hotel rooms. As I was walking past, one of the rooms had its windows open and in the corner of my eye, I saw some people fucking. Lo and behold, it was my babe. I couldn’t believe it. I was paralysed in shock but I left. When I was breaking up with her, I was so macho and being a bad guy about it but when she left I just curled up into a ball on my bed and cried my eyes out into my pillow. It was so painful.

    Leke

    In 2018, I was dating one short BBW. Things were going all lovey-dovey until we had one minor argument. I can’t even remember what the argument was about but I apologised immediately but she continued to give me an attitude. Normally, I wouldn’t be bothered about walking away but I had fallen madly in love with her. I kept going to her house to apologise but she wasn’t having it, saying she needed a break. One day, I was going to her house with gifts when I met her outside her house, kissing another man. The guy had his hands all wrapped around her and was even rubbing her body. I was devastated. She saw me, made eye contact and looked away. I wanted to die. As per gentlemen, I turned back and headed back to my house with my tail between my legs. I had never felt so broken. When I got home, everyone was asking if I was fine and I said I was but deep inside, I was hurting badly. I’m never going to give anyone the chance to do that to me again.

    Dubem

    We were in med school together and had dated for four years. We lived together in the last two years of med school and had so many plans and dreams for our future. Six months to my graduation, she started deleting my pictures from her Instagram. When I asked why, she said her father just joined and might see it. I didn’t think much of it because I trusted her. I finally graduated and left for Nigeria.

    One day, she called and asked me, “What if there’s someone better for both of us out there?” I was dumbfounded and she went on to say she needed a break. I asked for how long and she said two weeks. When I called after the agreed time, she said the break was the best two weeks of her life. She also said she needed someone who will spoil her silly and I barely send her any money asides the 20k I regularly gave her from my 98k housemanship salary. I wished her all the best because there’s nothing wrong with her wanting better, but inside I was devastated. It took me some time, but I healed. She taught me that you should never settle for less than you think you deserve.

    Take this quick quiz: How Often Do You Cheat In Relationships?

  • 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.

    The subject of today’s “Man Like” is Moboluwaduro, a doctor. He talks to us about his plans to spoil his mum and struggling to pay his first house rent. Additionally, he tells us how observing his dad showed him that people express affection differently.

    When did you get your “Man now” moment?

    I feel like I’ve generally been privileged because I wasn’t rushed into becoming “a man”. When I finished my first degree in Basic medical science, I went back to medical school. In a way, I kept asking myself if I was going to medical school because I wanted to be a doctor or if I wanted to be shielded a little more from growing up. 

    The first time I got hit with the reality of being a man was when I finished housemanship — a compulsory one year service medical graduates undergo in the hospital. I suddenly went from having a well-paying job and a hospital-provided apartment to hustling for a job and trying to figure out how to pay rent. 

    That’s when the bubble burst. 

    For the duration of my housemanship, I’d saved up ₦500,000 to rent an apartment in Lagos. After going around for two to three weeks, it dawned on me that I had fucked up. As someone who’s always prepared for anything, I was rudely shocked when I realised that my one-year savings couldn’t pay rent. 

    When my eyes cleared, I SOSed my mum and was like, “Mummy, send help.” Through the efforts of my mum, combined with a loan from a friend is how I eventually paid the rent of my first apartment.

    Damn. 

    I didn’t have money for furnishing after I moved in, so my sitting room was empty. Thankfully, I got a job. An aunt here came through, another friend here came through, and I was finally able to set up the house. It took me nine months to find my feet. The post housemanship phase was a life-changing event that showed me “real life.”

    I’m sorry.

    Nah, it’s fine. I’ve come a long way from then, and while I’m not a pro at this adulting business, I remind myself that I’m not doing badly. At least I stay in my own apartment and I now pay my rent without any assistance. LMAO. 

    LOL. What did you learn from your house-hunting experience? 

    House-hunting in Lagos teaches you how challenging it is to be a young adult in Nigeria. How can it be legal for landlords to expect you to have almost a million naira to pay rent for like two years? When you compare other countries where rent is monthly versus our lump-sum system, you start to see how cruel the system is on young people trying to find their feet. 

    I also learnt that there’s mad corruption in this country. If a professional who’s supposed to be relatively comfortable is struggling, it shows that cost of living doesn’t match income levels. I suspect that illegal money in the possession of a select few has inflated housing costs and made life more difficult for honest earners. 

    The whole house hunting experience made me feel poor and helpless. I kept asking, “How do people who don’t earn as much as doctors fare?”

    Bro! Does this reality scare you? 

    Yes, it does. There’s the worry that people may come for you because they feel you’re better off than them. 

    I’m actually scared of being outside my house past 7 p.m. I grew up in the relatively sleepy town of Ijebu-Ode where 7:30 p.m. counted as getting home late. And I also grew up hearing about how unsafe Lagos was. Add low income and high cost of living to my fears, and suddenly, my anxiety makes sense. 

    I feel you. Do you have any other fears?

    I’m scared of my mum dying before I have enough time to do big man things for her. I do things for her in my own little way, but I want to really spoil her; I want her to ask for x amount while I send her 3x the amount. 

    Energy oh. 

    Lool. My mum has been there for me every step of the way and has supported me through everything I’ve done in life. No one can want good for you more than your parents. There’s nothing I’ve asked my mum for that she didn’t find a way to provide. 

    If my mother saved all the money she spent on her children, she’d probably be a multimillionaire by now. That’s why I won’t feel accomplished until I can properly spoil her. 

    Love it. Do you feel the same way about your dad?

    My dad is reserved and a man of few words. Also, he was constantly shuttling between Ijebu-Ode and Lagos for work, so this made conversations sparse. I guess it’s easier to gush about my mum because we spent a lot of our formative years with her. 

    Overall, I’m not worried because my mum takes care of my dad. Taking care of her guarantees I’m also taking care of my dad. 

    Neat. Did your dad’s reserved attitude have any impact on the type of man you grew up to become?

    As reserved as my dad is, I know he’ll give me a kidney if I need one. I remember that every Sunday, my dad would put us on his laps and cut our fingernails and toenails. He’d also never finish his food without giving the kids meat from his plate. I came to understand that he wasn’t cold, but just affectionate in his own way. I mean it’d have been nicer if he was more expressive with his emotions, but I understand that he’s a product of his upbringing. 

    I like to think that I’m an antithesis of my dad because I wear my emotions on my sleeves. 

    Observing my father showed me that the fact that someone doesn’t express themselves the way you want doesn’t necessarily mean they’re cold. It just means that they show love differently. 

    How does wearing your emotions on your sleeves play out for you?

    It’s going quite well. Being myself has allowed me to attract like-minded people. With my friends — both male and female — I try to be vocal about my feelings. I don’t want to die and my friends are unsure about how I feel about them. I understand this behaviour is definitely not what society expects of me as a man, but I’m an open book. I’m now 30+, it’s too late to fight who I am. 

    Do people tell you to act like a man/man up?

    I used to hear it a lot while I was growing up. One of the beauties of adulthood is that growing older gives you a tougher skin and the words people say have less power to hurt you. 

    You have to be unapologetically who you are. You must not allow someone’s opinion or definition of who you are hold you back. 

    Mum, Dad, I hope you’re reading this?

    Lol.

    How do you define your masculinity?

    I don’t. I like to believe that I’m self-aware enough to be my own person. This knowledge is why I don’t subscribe to certain notions of masculinity. 

    I cry when I get frustrated. Some people see crying as a sign of weakness, but I’ve found that crying helps me relieve frustrations. Crying doesn’t stop me from pursuing my goals because as I’m crying, I’m still putting one leg in front of the other. 

    I feel like I’m a complete person, so I don’t bother putting labels and expectations on masculinity. 

    Interesting. What do you think is different about being a man in Nigeria?

    Your recognition as a man is tied to your ability to provide. If you can’t do that, you’re not counted as a man. If you have money, your experience as a man in Nigeria is 70% easier because everyone respects and treats you differently. I think this is the reason why men spiral when they get into situations where they can no longer provide. They understand, subconsciously, what’s at stake. 

    I’m curious about your role models for what it means to be a man.

    Weirdly enough, I don’t think I have anyone. All in all, I always want to be a nicer and better model of my previous self.  I know the things I want and I’m always open to change, so I don’t put any one person on a pedestal. I add and remove from people’s traits as I find them useful to me.

    To be honest, the only “role model” I want to be is to be successful. After all, people say that money is the bicycle of the gospel. 

    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.

    [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.

    The subject of today’s “Man Like” is Olanrewaju, the head of TC Insights — a research group that gathers data on startups in Africa, and uses the data to provide insights for stakeholders. He talks to us about the sacrifices of fatherhood, the influence of his parents in his life’s journey and what men should know before getting married. 

    When did you get your “Man Now” moment?

    I’d say that there hasn’t been one single moment. I feel that because I’m constantly evolving, it has been several moments. The first time I discovered I was “a man” was when I hit puberty and discovered changes in my body. In my head, I was like, “I’m becoming a man with my physical features.”

    Another incident was going to boarding school in another state and having to fend for myself against hungry seniors. That was a lonely experience that also made me sit up. 

    Marriage has been the biggest level up for me because I’ve had to learn new things about myself and my partner, and make sound decisions. After trying to balance marriage, fatherhood hit me. I’ve mostly just been discovering different “man now” moments as I progress from one level to another. 

    Tell me about your fatherhood experience.

    Ah. Bro. Lmaoooo. 

    Fatherhood is a huge responsibility. You can try to prepare yourself by learning and reading from other people, but nothing prepares you for the actual job. From the change in your schedule — blocking out your schedule so that you can spend meaningful time raising a child — to combining work and family, to even being responsible for someone.

    Fatherhood adds a layer of complexity to your life and exposes new things about you. Even though it’s a mixed bag of experiences, nothing replaces the joy of watching your kids grow. 

    What have been the challenging parts of fatherhood?

    On one hand, there’s the physical stress of waking up at night to take care of a baby. Then there’s the psychological part where I’m hyper-aware that I’m now responsible for another human being and I have to do right by them. I’m constantly asking myself, “Am I setting the right example for my boys?” “Have I sent my kids to the best schools ?” It’s a whole different type of performance pressure. 

    Growing up, we’d say that our parents put a lot of pressure on us to perform, but the reality is that parents are also under pressure. Even if kids don’t say, there are certain expectations that are placed on you to make them happy. 

    Have you ever had to trade personal fulfilment for the sake of fatherhood?

    I’ve worked two to three jobs at the same time before just because I couldn’t shake off the internal pressure to do right by my family. I was so worried that I took on a full-time job alongside side gigs that required the effort of full-time jobs. It didn’t end well because I eventually had a breakdown. 

    I’m sorry. 

    It’s fine. 

    What are the joys of fatherhood?

    It’s everything from watching your child cry to taking their first step. It’s also hearing my two-year-old son tell me: “Daddy do you know I love you?” followed closely by a warm hug. Other times, it’s me melting when my older son says, “Mummy and daddy are the best.” One of the most priceless things in life is watching your kids come from nowhere and grow to become an integral part of your life. 

    So cute. I seek refuge against the spirit of baby fever.

    Hehe.

    Does anything scare you though?

    I recently lost my mum, so I find myself thinking more about the reality of death. The concept of here today and gone tomorrow is a lot to take in. No matter how much we accept that death is a constant factor in life, we’re never truly prepared for loss. The finality of death is scary, but my faith in Jesus keeps me going.

    Asides from the finality of death, I can’t think of anything that really scares me. This is because my approach is to constantly try to solve a problem, no matter how daunting. After all, I’ve been through the worst mentally, and I’ve come out more emotionally mature. 

    Tell me about the worst mental experience.

    During that period where I was working three jobs, things went south. I broke down and suffered from a bout of depression coupled with suicidal thoughts. It was one of the most difficult points in my life — I had to go see a doctor for help, I was out of a proper job for almost a year, and I was just going through the motions.  

    Sometimes I look back and there’s a tinge of regret, but I’m just glad the worst is over. I’m in a better place now with my career, and I have a better grasp of things. 

    What are some things that have changed in your approach to work between now and then?

    I’ve come a long way from crying at a job to being more centred in my current role. One thing I learnt from my breakdown is that energy management is greater than time management. I’ve learned to manage my bandwidth for projects because spreading myself too thin would make me unhappy, stressed out and unfulfilled at jobs. 

    I’m jotting things. Tell me about your current job.

    I work at TC Insights where we do deep research and analyse various sectors. A lot of my job involves coming up with fifty-page briefs on particular topics. The best part is that because I now utilise energy and bandwidth management, I can work hard and still go home to have a good night rest. You could say I’m living the best of both worlds.

    Love it. Where do you find joy these days?

    It’s not one thing. Today I might find satisfaction from a project I’m working on. Tomorrow it might be from watching CNN pundits analyse American politics. Some other day I’d find satisfaction in watching Bridgerton on Netflix with my wife. About three weeks ago, I found a lot of joy in teaching and watching my son trace number 2. Seeing him go from zero to hundred was so satisfying to observe. 

    I repeat: I refuse to fall for this baby fever agenda.

    LMAO.

    You’ve spoken a lot about work and family, is there a place for friendship in your life?

    I don’t keep a lot of friends because between working and raising a family, I’m constantly struggling to maintain friendships. For the few people I’m friends with, I try to show up whenever they need me.

    Hmm. Who do you go to for advice?

    Because of the way my life is set up, I don’t have a single person. What I have are a series of people depending on the topic I need advice on. For marriage, I sometimes talk to my closest friend and we discuss openly all the nuances of marriage. For work stuff, I approach people who have been through similar challenges for advice. When I need an older perspective, I talk to my dad. 

    Interesting. Who are your role models for what it means to be a man?

    I’d say, my parents. 

    From my dad, I learned to take responsibility for my life and family. He taught me to wake up every day and show up for the people who matter to me. He also showed me how to use tools like emotional intelligence and diplomacy. 

    My mum taught me the value of hard work and the importance of family. Outside of these two people, I’ve had different people influence me in little ways, but there’s no single person that has influenced the entirety of my experience. 

    Love it. What advice would you give young men considering marriage? 

    I’d encourage them to run their race at their own pace and not give in to the pressure to tick some societal boxes. Marriage is a lifetime decision and it has to be treated as such. It’s important to ensure that your partner is someone you gel with in every area of life [Shout out to my wife, Princess].

    Men should also break out of the stereotypical definition of being a married man. Marriage is a partnership. I think that if all these are followed, then peace will follow in the marriage. 

    Amen.

    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.

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  • 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.

    The subject of today’s Man Like is a visual artist, writer and occasional spirit husband. He tells us about losing his parents when he was 10, moving a lot because he lived with different families and starting to live when he turned 24.

    When did you get your “Man Like” moment?

    So there are two answers here. If you ask me the first time I started feeling like a man, my closest answer would be final year project defense. I wore some ash wool trousers with a blue striped shirt, second-hand shoes and suspenders. And I followed the combo with a big boy bounce. In my head, I was like, “Wow, yes, I have arrived.”

    LMAO.

    In a sense, it was the aesthetics of being a man that dawned on me. The first time I felt the expectations of being a man was when my parents died. I had just turned ten, and there were expectations that I was going to continue my father’s lineage. It was weird because I had been insulated from all of these expectations up until then. At the burial, people kept on saying I shouldn’t cry because I was “a man”. In my head, I thought, “Okay this is new.”

    Mahn, I’m sorry. How did you cope after their death?

    I lived with different families through my teenage years up until my early twenties.

    What does moving around do to you as a person?

    It makes you not hold on to a defined sense of identity. It also leaves you craving permanence; a desire to stay in one place and hold on to something for a while. You lose a part of yourself each time you move and assimilate to a new family. As an adult, I find that I’m still always travelling. I’m still interested in moving. Even now that I have my own place, there’s a restlessness to move on to the next thing.

    Are you an only child?

    I have a not so little sister, but we lived separately and only got to spend Christmas together during our teenage years. In my head, I’m an only child because I had to deal with a lot of things alone — it’s only recently I started to rely on people. In fact, I called my sister before this interview.

    LOOL. How did constantly moving affect your ability to make friends?

    On one hand, I amassed an uncomfortable number of people in my life. Uncomfortable because moving into so many families meant i had no psychological or physical space of my own. 

    On the other hand, I always had it in the back of my mind that I’d return to the city where I grew up in. However, by the time I went back, all my dear friends had either left the country or had changed. 

    These days my disposition is to be personable and friendly, but I don’t actively encourage friendships. I remember someone trying to be friends with me, and I was like, “You’re an amazing person and we could both learn a lot from each other, but you came at the wrong time in my life. I have a lot of things to deal with.” Even with my tactic, some people have still managed to find their way into my life. 

    Awww. What are some important relationships that have added to your life?

    I’d say intergenerational friendships. I find that because my friends differ from me in lived experience, age and geography, these friendships pull me out of my reality. I get to witness other possibilities. I’m 29 now, and I’m looking forward to my thirties mostly because I’ve seen how my friends above thirty have embraced life. Watching them just live life gives me a lot of hope. This is a lot of improvement from the teenager who had no plans of seeing past 25. 

    Interesting. Does anything scare you?

    I don’t think I have any fears. I see the possibility of death hanging over anyone I love so I’m always telling myself that loss can happen at any time. I know I love someone when the thought of them dying stresses me out. 

    Ah. I see.

    I really started coming alive as a full person around the time I turned 24, which was around the time I wore suspenders. It was also the year of good music. I started listening to what young people my age were listening to, and I stopped thinking about death. 

    Before turning 24, I had just been going through the motions.  I really feel like I’ve lived a full life and if I die now I’ll be happy. 

    Wawu. What are some differences before turning 24 and after turning 24?

    For one, I feel like I’m the shit. 

    I’m also learning to occupy space more. 

    I’m learning to accept help. 

    To accept compliments. 

    To rely on people. 

    I’m learning to allow myself to feel loved.

    I love you mahn.

    I don’t believe you because you said the same thing to Adekunle Gold. 

    Scream.

    What gives you joy?

    Kidney pie — dough with kidney stuffing — gives me joy.  Then Citrus! I love using citrus-scented soaps. I also love Electronic dance music: I pray the angels fast forward the footage of me dancing alone in my apartment when they put my life on the projector on judgement day.

    Then the colour red makes me happy because God speaks to me in the colour red. I own red candles and my dressing room is painted blood red. 

    Are you… like a cultist?

    Haha. 

    I want to hear about your models for what it means to be a man. 

    Because of how I grew up, I had models that were not gender-specific — My parents alternated cooking and other house chores. My dad was more likely to laugh or say sorry to me than my mom in fact. I only started considering him as a model after he died and I started encountering other forms of [toxic] masculinity. These encounters made me start archiving memories of my dad because I was like this is how men are expected to behave in society, but this is how it was in my house. For me, those memories were in a way me clinging to being soft and kind.

    Interesting.

    In addition to being soft and kind, I also wanted to be as creative as my father. 

    How so?

    My dad had a studio behind the house where he used to make stuff because he was very good with his hands. While I didn’t follow his exact path, I still feel that a lot of my identity has been defined by my creative career. Being able to create is what made me consider life. 

    A lot of decisions I took in my life, the characters in my stories did them first. The first time I asked someone out was because I had written a character where a 19-year-old — who was my age mate then — had asked someone out, so what was the big deal? In real life, it ended up becoming a two-hour conversation and some long ass walk. 

    Damn. 

    Tying your identity to a career is not healthy because I remember this one time where I was in a bad space because my career wasn’t where I wanted it to be. I had to constantly affirm myself outside of my career. It was a constant struggle to remind myself that I didn’t need to be a great author to be worthy of being alive.

    Heavy stuff. 

    How do you define your masculinity?

    I only define it in the parts that interest me. And that’s in the aesthetics/fashion. But there’s also socialisation and how masculinity relates to me in terms of bias. Even though I don’t feel “masculine”, I still find myself unlearning little biases I didn’t know I had in me. 

    I thought I was “woke”, but I have realised no matter how feminist you are in your relationship with a woman, the world is still waiting with its nonsense outside. I was in a friend’s car once and when road safety stopped us, the officer came to “bargain” with me and not my friend in the driver seat who owned the car — because she was well, a woman. I almost responded to him but I had a ‘wait a minute’ moment in my brain.

    There was a funnier incident years ago when someone had asked me out, and I accepted and was happily enjoying the relationship. One day I got a text: When are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend officially? I was like, wait, is it joke we have been joking since? I’m learning that at the end of the day, we all have inherent gender biases to work through.

    Preach. Has anything ever threatened your idea of masculinity?

    I think there’s generally a sense of compulsory masculinity that piles certain expectations on you. I internalised some of those ridiculous expectations when I was younger. 

    For example, I hated jewellery growing up. When I started interrogating my hate, I realised it was simply because society decided men wearing jewellery was effeminate and anything that leans towards the feminine must be punished. I read that before colonisation came, my father’s people (Tiv) actually mocked teenage boys who turned fifteen without wearing gold earrings. 

    Oh wow.

    I don’t think masculinity is bad. It can be colourful too. I’ve lived in parts of Nigeria where men dye their beard orange or wear eyeliner. I’m also interested in the idea of collaboration between men. There’s a strong chance for men to have real conversations and unlearn toxic masculinity. If men on Twitter could come together and build a stingy men association website, then they could intervene in the case of boys who go through sexual abuse.

    Overall, I’m just interested in being soft last last. I don’t have strength for the performance society wants from me. It’s too limiting. The world is vast and full of wonders. 

    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.

    [donation]