MEN DON’T CRY…
By: Ozioma Nweke
Tags: Despair, Mentalhealth, Nigeria

MEN DON’T CRY…

This is a story about despair.

I lay like a log of wood in my bed, listening to the heavy rain beat against my window pane. The last time it rained this heavily, the shed just next to my compound fell and almost hit a passerby. This night, the rain was pouring down in heavy torrents and I couldn’t stop thinking that it was aiming to break my spirit and leave me a weeping mess.

My mind traveled back to three weeks ago when I went to the village to pay Mama a visit. She had worry lines criss crossing her face and a very noticeable limp in her walk. She had dislocated her ankle the week before when she went to fetch firewood to make her evening meal. I felt my heart squeeze in my chest as I watched her eyes lit up with joy when she saw me. I felt like I was her greatest disappointment. I was 29 years old and a graduate of accounting. She had spent most of her youthful days working so hard in her shed in the market where she sold foodstuffs to pay for my schooling.

She was old now and I was a graduate. But I still couldn’t afford to take care of her and give her the life she deserved.

To make matters worse,just fresh from my trip to the village, I ran into an old classmate of mine in the market, who everyone thought I was better than, he was working in an insurance company and earning enough to cater for himself and his family. This set me back mentally.

I was going to do the whole entrepreneurship thing but seeing that Dozie was already counting in millions as a corporate guy. I decided to go corporate too since business was not paying y bills.

A week ago, I turned in my CV at a firm that was hiring new workers, my application was accepted and I was called for an interview. As I sat facing an older woman who looked too beautiful for her age, I couldn’t help but notice the suggestive looks she was throwing my way and just as I was about to dismiss the thought of her hitting on me. She clearly stated that I could start working by next week if I’m ready to do the "needful". I frowned a little and then she made herself clear. She said I was a grown up and I knew what she was talking about. As she spoke, I remember looking at the smudged lipstick on her lips and wondering how I got to this point. I rejected her offer and stood up to leave but she held my hand, and said I had a week to rethink my decision. I nodded and walked out of her office.

It’s been a week already, and tomorrow is the day I tell her what I have decided. Maybe if my landlord did not show up in the wee hours of yesterday’s morning demanding for the money I owe him for rent or maybe if I didn’t get a call from the village telling me my mum had fainted while walking to the market,maybe my decision would have been different.

When I was a little boy I remember, my uncle sitting me down in his almost empty sitting room save for a set of really beat up chairs and a black and white television which had dust on it. I doubt it was still working at the time. He held my hand and told me that I was going to grow to become a man. He told me to always be strong and never let my weakness show. How I was supposed to deal with problems that came my way with a straight face and how I should never cry even when my heart was breaking because "Men don’t cry".

As the rain started to fall in tiny drops, I turned in my bed, and let the tears flow, they soaked the tiny clothe I had folded up to make a pillow and in that moment I felt like my uncle who was dead now would turn in his grave if he could see me now.

I drifted to sleep just as the rain stopped still wondering why my future suddenly seemed so bleak.

Written by

Nweke Ozioma Ruth