By Chris Ihidero
Contrary to popular opinion, I am not quite mad. I do admit, as friends and foes have pointed out severally, that I am not exactly normal but I insist I have not tipped over to the other side, even with my frequent wanderings. There are moments of insanity of course, often occasioned by this damned country and the people who rule it, but those moments are fleeting and in time I gather my senses and somehow find hope again; it’s the reason I haven’t murdered a politician…yet.
I woke up to multiple tweets from a friend’s Twitter handle one Saturday morning some months ago. I had known her for over six years and never had the slightest inkling that her feeble shoulders were bearing a burden as heavy as mental illness. We had never been particularly close but as writers we met often at events and forums around the arts. When I read her tweets that Saturday morning, I searched fervently through memories of our encounters, trying to locate something that could have told me that she was mentally ill. I found nothing. It can be amazing how little we know even about our friends. My friend is bi-polar.
Since that revelation I have gone to her blog several times to read her posts, seeking to understand where it all started from and how she has been able to carry on with school, work and life in general. What I have learnt from reading her posts is the needlessness of understanding and the supremacy of acceptance. It has taken her a decade, from when she started suspecting that something was wrong somewhere to finally seeking medical help, but the results of her acceptance of her condition are already discernible. The journey is long and the path rough; there are still many proverbial mountains in her way but it seems she’s in a better place now.
My friend’s story got me thinking: How many children out there have been taking to a church or mosque to have their ‘madness’ prayed away? How many have been kept away from visitors to their homes because they were ‘strange’? How many times have you said “My friend, get on with it!” to a friend or family member who says he/she is depressed? How many times have you laughed and said “Don’t be silly.”? How come we tend to equate mental illness with madness? How many children are tied to bedposts and kept in dark rooms just because the parents don’t understand what’s wrong with them? You don’t even have to think long and hard to find examples of these situation in your family or neighbourhood; it’s everywhere. Oh, have we even tried to link the rising cases of suicide to mental illness? There was a time we used to say Nigerians don’t commit suicide, but we know better now. My friend thinks about suicide often.
As with many things, our attitude to mental illness in this country is shameful. We deny its existence or ascribe it to evil forces at work. Every visit to a psychiatrist is an admittance of raving lunacy, we conclude. We close the doors to empathy because we are afraid and ashamed to admit that some of us have psychological conditions that demand worthy attention and care. Unless we change this attitude, societal regeneration will continue to elude us.
My friend and I have spoken about doing a short documentary on mental illness. She’s committed to sharing her story so someone somewhere can perhaps have an easier ride through life, dealing with mental illness. We do not know yet how or where we will find funding to make this short film, but this film will be made.
I haven’t seen my friend in a long while; I hope I don’t break her back with a big hug when I do soon.
Chris Ihidero Unedited: Can We Talk About Mental illness?
