That particular afternoon just before being served porridge and singing “ … saasa ni sa siita Mwalimu kwaheeri…” something unusual happened, I must first admit that in my childhood I was different, the common smiles and wordiness I have today, just caught up with me in puberty the other day, so on that afternoon I got attacked, attacked with these village bullies that will without any reason throw down a stick and declare, “...kama wewe ni mwanaume ruka unipige…” Meaning, “...if you are a man enough cross to this side and touch me..” crossing over the stick meant you just trespassed into someone's territory aiming to bring violence of which you either had the energy to fight them or either way.
So, that fateful afternoon, things happened and I was roughened up. How I crossed into someone's territory to prove a point is a story for another day. I wasn't just beaten, my shirt was ripped apart until it turned into rags. I walked home with my protruded potty belly pointing into space, bruises everywhere, all in the name of “...why did you give me the disk!”
Terror happened. I had to face Namwiru, my good African mother. The first comments she made immediately I majestically showed up in our compound were, “...Omusiani ekhurebanga ,lishaati Olekhere yeena!” To my Chinese and American readers this translates to “... young man I am asking where did you leave your shirt ?” What followed is probably the reason I've never forgotten the events of that afternoon, you'll imagine everything just happened this morning.
It was pure discipline, and of course those who know what discipline means from an angry African mama who worked the fields with a hoe, pulling up heavy clumps of soil to plant mapwoni for the affluent families in the village—just so she could earn a few peanuts to buy his son a school uniform, understand what I mean by saying Namwiru, disciplined me. Someone was hit like isikuti drum in an Idakho village festival.
“The measure of a man should not be how much he can endure in silence, but how willing he is to heal.”
The big lie, men don't cry
It had not ended, just a few minutes to supper, she remembered it again, and more lessons of life oozed, "...no supper for anyone careless enough to gift their shirt and walk home naked, enda ulale," Her words were final I retired to my mat , I've always wondered why nights are six hours longer when you go to bed on an empty stomach, someone should explain to me that mystery. Morning dawned and asI sipped my tea and a piece of lipwoni, “ Powel, you are a whole man!" Mama interrupt the whole process, I thought we were done with that story, "Don’t just stand there letting people run mad and pour their rubbish on your face. Eeh! Stand up for yourself! Face them like a man. And listen, don’t you dare come back here crying again, you hear me?"
The phrase, “...Powel you are a whole man ...” then only at seven, still echoes in my mind loudly, sometimes it breaks me and sometimes makes me, not just me but any other man outside there, who is judged by the society using the same words.
A Culture That Silences Men’s Pain
Society has shifted attention to the girl child, the boy is a man, he's a rock, he should not cry, neither should he complain, he should not bow to the weights of this cruel world. Why? Because he is a man.
"Men’s mental health matters. It’s OK to talk, to seek help, and to not have it all figured out. Strength isn’t about staying silent-it’s about taking care of yourself. Let’s break the stigma together ."
According to the statistics of the World Health Organization, depression currently affects over 264 million people globally with men less likely to seek any assistance due to societal norms. In Kenya, for instance according to the Statistics from the Ministry of Health Kenya, four people die by suicide everyday with the cases of men showing higher suicidal rates compared to women estimated at 3:1, these suicidal cases are catalyzed by mental health disorders such as anxiety, depression, post traumatic stress and anger.
Men battle nights they never talk about.The prevalence of these mental disorders estimated to be around 4.4% is becoming an issue of national concern. Yes, I don't stand against stoicism and resilience , which are characteristics culturally expected of every man, but sometimes, men break down and fear expressing their vulnerability, they fear seeking help even when they are hit by the worst realities and abnormalities of life. They imagine that saying I am tired, I cannot do that or I am afraid is weakness
But you are a man...
I relate these to those days when I was growing up. I used to imagine my father is the strongest human being that ever lived, leave alone a human, I imagined he was a god. I knew he could kill even a lion and no one in the whole world could dare him. I knew there was nothing he could not do.
From every man , someone expects something, such social expectations break men. We expect so much from them, but let's remember that they are just human beings and the same pressures of life that can heat a woman, can destroy a man.
Sometimes healing begins with stepping outside and letting nature hold you. The writer reconnecting with nature and trees .Men are also human beings
Next time, before you respond. “...but you are a man”, remember, he is first a human being before a man.


Lipwoni, plr. Mapwoni : Luhya for Sweet potatoes
ReplyDeleteLifundo: Luhya for football ⚽, made of polythane and ropes played by boys in most African villages
Isikuti: A luhya dance where drums 🥁 🥁 🛢️ are thoroughly beat.
A Timely piece Snr
ReplyDeleteWhat a story, mental health is health, it matters. 👏
ReplyDeleteI love the piece , well Writen without the feminine rhetorics of making men lesser beings. 👏👏
ReplyDeleteI love how you started this piece , storytelling at its best
ReplyDelete