Happy New Year. I returned home for the holidays, eager to reconnect with my roots. I expected to find thriving communities but was met with something deeply unsettling—our young men drowning in quiet despair. Vijana, many now riding bodaboda, who once brimmed with ambitions, now numb their secret pain with alcohol and other substances, silently grappling with defeat.
Sadly, this isn’t just a rural issue. Across urban centers, young men are similarly trapped in cycles of depression. Cheap liquor has become an easy escape, but it’s eroding productivity, breaking trust, and tearing families apart. Our boys are perishing right before our eyes.
When you listen closely, the cause becomes painfully clear: unmet expectations. Society demands that men succeed at all costs—to earn, to provide, to lead, and to embody strength. But when a man stumbles, society judges harshly, and forgiveness is rare.
We’ve heard countless tragic stories of how the pressure and expectations turn young men into drunkards, conmen, fraudsters, and criminals. Make no mistake about it, I condone none of these misdeeds. But at times, we ought to take a step back and reflect.
A boy child faces immense pressure to prove his worth both within and outside his home. When he falls short of these expectations, his world begins to unravel. In an attempt to cope with the strain on his diminishing sense of masculinity, he may resort to alcohol, energy drinks, and performance-enhancing drugs. Nowadays, energy drinks and sexual performance drugs are among the best-selling commodities. Ever asked yourself—who is the buyer and why? These products temporarily mask the deep, unspoken cry to be seen and accepted as “him.”
We all heard of a young man whose wedding in December 2024 turned into a nightmare. Pressured by society’s standards, he borrowed heavily to host the “perfect” wedding. Days later, creditors had him thrown into custody. His fall became a national joke. But if you ask me, I saw a brother struggling to meet expectations that were never his to begin with—a product of our own environment.
The Costly Burden of Silence
Men are taught to suppress their emotions. Traditions like jando and the Maasai warrior code teach fearlessness. My late father, a proud Zigua man, often said, “Wee mwanaume bwana!” or “Jikaze Mgosi!” whenever life hit me hard. So, I would dust myself off and soldier on. Zero emotion entertained.
Those lessons followed me into adulthood, and I passed it on to my son and nephews. We teach what we know. The mantra of “man up” has become both a shield and a prison for men.
We fight emotional battles in isolation, masking our pain with a façade of invincibility. When the burden becomes too heavy, many turn to alcohol or worse—some take their own lives. The world offers no space for men to be vulnerable. As Antwone Fisher once recited, “Who will cry for the little boy?”
Globally, men are twice as likely to die by suicide as women. In Africa, it’s worse—18 deaths per 100,000 people. Behind the mask of strength lies untold suffering.
The Lie We’ve Been Told
My brother, the idea that you are baba mwenye nyumba—destined to conquer and succeed without fail—is a lie. Life will knock you down. You’ll face failure, heartbreak, betrayal, and financial struggles.
What matters is how you rise after each fall. David Deida, the author of the bestseller The Way of the Superior Man, writes, “A man’s depth is revealed in how he handles failure, not in how he avoids it.”
The silence that accompanies hitting rock bottom is outdated. Take defeats humbly and share your burdens. Yes, you may have lost that business or job. So what? Go again. Fail again. Learn. Seek help when it is too much of a burden to carry alone. And if asking for help makes you a “mama’s boy” or “weak,” then so be it. Better safe than sorry.
The World Won’t Stop Spinning
One of my mother Odilia’s favorite sayings was, “Godwin, the world will not stop revolving to wait for you to sober up.” She reminded me of this whenever I wallowed in self-pity.
Brothers, there’s no time to feel sorry for ourselves. Alcohol, drugs, and thoughts of suicide (God forbid) are not the answer. No one is coming to save you. The bills won’t pause. Your responsibilities won’t vanish. Some friends will dodge your calls. Others will leave. And yes—she might leave too. So what?
The buck stops with you. Only you can turn it around.
If you’re overwhelmed, reach out. Talk to a friend, a family member, or a faith leader. Open up. You’ll be surprised to find that others have it worse.
Seeking help isn’t weakness; it’s resilience. If therapy feels out of reach, lean on your community—on the people who love you. Fall. Rise. Repeat.
Yes, it’s exhausting, my brother. But it’s a man’s world, right? Get back up.
Your Big Brother,
The author is an independent contributor and can be reached at: godwingodizo@gmail.com
