What They Don’t Tell You About being A Man

In the past, I have shared my opinions. Today, I want to share something more. Something sincere, something that is delicate enough to shatter a man’s ego. Yet, gentle enough to humble him to a better understanding of who a man ought to be.

I recall some time ago when I asked a close friend what her most embarrassing day was. She replied with a sad story.

As a child, did you look at your parents as heroes? I know I did. I thought my parents could do anything. I could trust my dad with reckless abandon, forgetting that he, too, was human, and sometimes, he needed help.

Her story too was about trust. She had met a guy on the bus heading home. They had a beautiful conversation, and our Romeo decided to walk her home. He had imagined that night differently because the unexpected happened.

No man walks out of the house saying, “I will fight today.” Wahala makes men fighters. Congratulations to the men that are prepared before the day because they always have something figured out; Some sort of already-existing mental plan.

Sadly, those who aren’t as prepared are forced to humbly trust in the leadership of uncertainty.

According to her, she had encountered some robbers. Armed with glittering machetes, they asked both her and her “knight-in-shining- armour” for their phones. Just like most girls, she expected the guy to ‘at least’ do something.

If we asked her, what should he do? The answer might go something seemingly along the lines of, “I don’t know, he should ‘at least’ have done something.” True, right?

Like I said earlier, no man walks out of the house saying, “I will fight today.” Wahala is what makes a man a fighter.

Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for the young man, who valued his life over a newfound love (That may or may not tilt to his favour), he fled. Like, he ran. He japa’d. Like, o ti lo. He moved.

I can assure you the story is authentic, but I fear I am not sure how things proceeded after he had, you know, taken off. My memory fails me. I think she said, “I gave them the phone and was so ashamed he couldn’t protect me.”

What is it with women expecting men to protect them? Even as a stranger, you are not safe as a man. There is something about the scenario that doesn’t give men a choice. when present and a woman is in danger, you protect her.

I remember when our house was robbed. Strange men broke the door to the home of an unsuspecting family with the intention to take what they did not keep there. I mean, there is never a time when violence is appropriate, but I think society might give it a hidden nod when you are violent for what is yours.

However, that was not the case. The robbers had broken in, stolen phones, and laptops, and even threatened a brave 7-year-old girl who kept screaming at the top of her voice with her mother to ‘sleeping’ neighbors.

My dad’s resistance was what slowed their efforts to stop the screaming. Staging a war at the entrance of his room, he had somehow tampered with the buttons of their confidence.

Screaming females, a man ready to slash off any arm brave enough to come in through a bedroom door, and two adult children asked to have a temporal siesta against their will, the robbers soon took off for fear of their own safety.

My dad pursued alongside my brother. I am sure you are wondering where I was in the unfolding of this event. I was home, asleep in a rented studio apartment in a different state. I am no coward, and if it is any consolation, my brother might be the proactive one, but I am one of the two in my family with an adamant will.

I would have if need be, chased after, and if lucky, beaten to a pulp, anyone I caught.

My dad didn’t catch those thieving fools. His effort was maneuvered by a strategic turn of events. The robbers ran into a pathway that favored them more that the crowd seeking justice.

He had caught one, but as a thief who is running for his life, when you are caught, you have just one line of thought; Set yourself free, or you’ll be dead. He broke free. Injuring my dad, he had somehow cheated fate.

99 days for the thief, and one day for the owner. I don’t know what day his number reads, but my dad had done his bit; He had proven he was no coward.

The same way he had done during my secondary school days. As a young boarding school student, I had gone to the dining only to be greeted by the heroism of my dad. Apparently, he had chased down some senior students who had stolen from the dining.

Even when I know that he was younger then than he is now, I still feel speed was a selective gift God shared amongst the members of my family. My dad is a good runner, but his first son, me, I fear is not.

I can run to save my life, but what about catching a thief that snatched the phone of your colleague when you two walked slowly to go catch a cab?

It happened like a movie. One minute, I was scrolling through my phone, comforted by the laughter my sarcasm had drawn from her. The next moment, stabbed by the shrillness of her voice. Her phone had been snatched, and the hooligan had gained some kilometers on us, what was I to do?

“What is it with women expecting men to protect them?”

Well, biology has the answer. Instinct. There I was with a shivering colleague whose phone had just been snatched, the criminal running in front of me, and me, an ‘Innocent’ bystander, who happens to be a man. Not just any man, but a friend to the crying victim.

Do I have a choice?

I immediately ran after the thief. I didn’t do this to be a hero, neither did I do this because society demands the action from me, no. I did it because that was someone I gave a s@%t about. Biology screamed, Protect! Therefore, I ran.

I consider my father a blessed man, but I am not the one that will wish for what he has. Truthfully, I believe in creating my own path. I want to make my own mistakes and be the captain of my own ship, but at that moment, while my skinny arms swung in the air, I wished for my father’s speed.

I screamed as I ran. “Catch that guy.” “Stop him.” “Help me catch that guy.” Was he fast, no. Could I have caught him, yes? As a matter of fact, I wanted to. Did he get away? Yes. He was running for his life, and I was chasing him to avenge a friend he had hurt.

Nigerians are natural sympathizers. They prefer to say sorry, instead of fixing what can lead to pain. As a country, we have decorated individuality so much that it is our frequent attire.

Only three out of ten Nigerians would make an attempt to save a stranger. The rest would look from afar, waiting for a hero that should have been them.

I wished I had caught the thief. As I chased after him, I watched him enter a familiar territory. I knew that was his plan all along. Grab, run, pray not to get caught, and disappear into a cluster of people who look like him. People who probably knew him, but maybe, not as a thief.

I had lost him. Now, I am left with a shattered friend. For a man, it is easier to lead fellow men to war than to tell the woman you love you cannot provide for her needs. We didn’t ask for this pride, we were born with it.

I had tried my best, but sometimes ‘best’ can be a failure with a mask. I showed, just like my dad, that I was not a coward. However, history only remembers winners, not those who make an effort.

I tried consoling a sad friend. She is by far, the weirdest person I have ever met. Believe me, I have met weird people, a lot. I watched her transition from wailing, to offering me a plate of food and laughing about what had happened.

I wish many can see life like she did; A big comedy with a few tragic scenes.

I took with me a lesson. The hardest part about being a man is not that a man has to protect, or provide. Rather, it is the pressure that comes from him failing that becomes his biggest fear.

Women need assurance, and men need encouragement. It is not enough to say speak up when they will (could) be judged, or advise them to cry, only (not intentionally) to mock their tears by saying, ‘be a man.’

What if I had caught the thief, will I still learn this lesson? Wouldn’t I have been bloated by the pride that comes with accomplishment? Well, I don’t know. What I know is what happened.

You can’t win all the time. Experience is the wisdom you get from all the times you failed. You’d be a fool not to use it.

Have you been in a similar situation? Care to share?