Life. Seasoned with perspective.
A reflection on the pressures, expectations, and silent struggles that many men navigate throughout life. It highlights the importance of resilience, support, and creating space for honest conversations about men’s well-being.
“Wumi kisatsa, uhulaa? Kisatsa!”
Be strong. Do you hear me? Be a man.
Those words still ring in my ears many years later. Spoken in my local Maragoli dialect, they carry a weight that is difficult to fully translate into English. I was told those words on the day I underwent circumcision, an important rite of passage in my community.
June is Men’s Mental Health Month. It is a time to reflect on the realities men face, the battles they fight, and the burdens they carry, often silently.
So this week, let us talk about being a man.
I am an avid consumer of podcasts, and this past week I came across one that left me thinking. My takeaway was both raw and unsettling. The host, an older woman with plenty of life experience, repeatedly emphasized one point. Life can be very unfair to men in old age.
Her advice was simple. Prepare early. Build something for yourself. Save something for yourself. Beyond providing for your family, create some security for the day when life may not turn out the way you imagined.
I have also come across another piece of advice directed at men that was equally hard hitting.
“No one is coming to save you. Take care of yourself.”
This article is not about gender wars or competing struggles. Life is difficult for everyone in different ways. Rather, it is about understanding some of the unique pressures many men carry and how those pressures shape the way they navigate life.
Allow me to use my own story to paint a picture.
It was the season of “ekekevo”, circumcision. In my community, the ceremony takes place every ten years, usually during the long school holidays. I underwent the traditional rite.
For two days, my father and I woke up before sunrise hoping to beat the queues. We failed miserably. After a decade, the number of boys awaiting the ceremony was enormous and Dungani, the famous circumciser in our area, was overwhelmed. Some families even slept in his compound just to secure a place at dawn.
On the third day, while relaxing at home, word reached us that another circumciser had arrived nearby. We rushed there immediately.
I still remember standing in that queue.
One by one, boys stepped forward. One by one, they emerged without flinching. I watched carefully and made a silent promise to myself.
Wumi kisatsa.
Be strong. Be a man.
Before my mind could fully process what was happening, my turn came and went. It was over.
My mother was informed and, as tradition demanded, she let out a loud ululation.
I had not cried.
That moment earned me praise.
Looking back now, I understand the lesson society was teaching.
As men, we are conditioned from a very early age to project strength. To endure. To absorb pain. To keep moving.
The challenge is that life is rarely that simple.
The truth is that men experience fear, disappointment, heartbreak, loneliness, anxiety, and exhaustion just like everyone else.
The difference is that many have been taught not to talk about it.
Many men cry themselves to sleep.
Many carry burdens so heavy that they struggle to breathe beneath them.
Many wake up every morning, put on a brave face, and fight battles nobody else can see.
I once woke up to WhatsApp images from a close friend.
The photographs showed knife wounds.
His spouse, during a domestic dispute, had attacked him in a moment of rage. That day, he made a difficult decision. He walked away with nothing except the blood stained clothes on his body.
I was there when he started over.
I took him to buy a thin mattress and a kerosene stove as he began again in a small one room house.
He was rebuilding his life from scratch.
I also had a neighbour whose relationship with alcohol worried many people around him. He drank heavily and often.
Years later, after I had moved to another estate, I came across his obituary in the newspapers.
On inquiry, I learned that he had taken his own life.
I have had my own moments too.
Moments of doubt.
Moments of fear.
Moments when the weight of responsibility felt overwhelming.
Because that is another truth about being a man.
Many carry enormous expectations. They are expected to provide, to lead, to protect, to absorb pressure, and to keep moving regardless of what is happening internally.
Sometimes they succeed.
Sometimes they struggle.
And sometimes they break.
The danger comes when a man has been conditioned entirely on the principle of “Wumi kisatsa” without understanding its limits.
Strength is important.
Resilience is important.
Perseverance is important.
But strength should never mean silence.
When pain is buried long enough, it often resurfaces in unhealthy ways. Some men lose themselves in alcohol. Others disappear into work. Some become angry. Others simply withdraw from the world.
A close friend of mine has an interesting way of describing the life of a man.
“Every day we are fighting all sorts of demons.”
I think there is truth in that statement.
The challenge is that many of those battles are invisible.
And invisible battles are often the hardest to fight.
This is why conversations around men’s mental health matter.
Not because men are weak.
Not because they deserve special treatment.
But because they are human.
And human beings need support.
As we mark Men’s Mental Health Month, perhaps the most important lesson is this.
Strength is not pretending that everything is fine when it is not.
Real strength is asking for help when you need it.
Real strength is speaking up when the burden becomes too heavy.
Real strength is understanding that being strong and being vulnerable are not opposites.
They are companions.
Perhaps that is the lesson we should be teaching our boys today.
Not simply “Wumi kisatsa.”
But also this.
Being a man does not mean carrying every burden alone.
Sometimes the bravest thing a man can do is ask for help.
About the author:
Kibisu Mulanda is a media executive and strategic communicator with over 20 years of experience in television, NGO storytelling, and youth-focused content. He is the Acting Head of Switch Media Ltd and teaches media at the Kenya Institute of Mass Communication (KIMC). A Certified SIYB Trainer, he blends storytelling with strategy to drive social impact.
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