Picture this: it’s Thursday evening. I’m on a client call trying to sort out a price variation on our contract – caused, of course, by the latest jump in material costs. The client is definitely not happy, and it’s a tense meeting. My 3-year-old, overly energetic as always, bursts into the room to show me his latest cartwheel and is insistent I pay attention to his moves. My phone pings — it’s an urgent message from my team about a supplier delay caused by overly zealous customs officers at the Port in Apapa. Meanwhile, my wife is asking if I remembered to pick up the pineapples – her favourite fruit, on the way home. And I still have to prepare a prayer outline for church by the weekend. This is real life.
Being a man in today’s Nigeria means wearing multiple hats: husband, father, COO of a 30-person organization with clients across the country, church worker, and the dependable family member others (uncles, cousins, and everything in between) turn to when times are tough — financially and otherwise. And the times are tough. The economic uncertainty, the price surges, that keep blindsiding businesses and households alike — it all piles on the pressure.
For years, I wore my stress like a badge of honour. After all, wasn’t that what being a man meant? Push through. Provide. Protect. But eventually, I realised that approach was like trying to carry the weight of Lagos traffic on your head — it will crush you.
Now, I take a different approach. I prioritise small moments of connection — the 15 minutes before bedtime when I pray with my boys and talk about their day, or the quick call with my wife during the day where we vent about how our day at work is going. Those moments are my reset buttons.
I also set boundaries (well, I try to!). When that late-night work request comes in, I remind myself: if I’m always available, I’ll soon be unavailable in the ways that matter — emotionally, mentally, even physically.
And let’s not underestimate the magic of community. Games night with friends, or banter after church meetings, goes a long way. It’s not always about finding solutions — sometimes, just knowing you’re not alone in this daily hustle makes a world of difference.
Finally, I’ve stopped chasing the perfect “balance.” Life comes in waves. Some days, business demands more — especially in an unpredictable economy. Other days, the family needs me to be fully present. What matters is being intentional in whatever role I’m in at that moment.
