How hard it is to be a man, anyway

I would like to start by saying that it is also hard to be a woman, but what do I know? I am a man. Anything I say about the trials and tribulations of womanhood would be conjecture and speculation at best, devoid of any truth. So I‘ll keep to what I believe I know: how hard it is to be a man.

Society despite its best intentions has heaped a load of attributes on men and deviation is often met with criticism. As soon as you’re a child you start feeling the heat of being a man. Whenever you cry too much for somebody's liking, this critical question is levelled at whoever is in charge of you. 'Why dee ya pikin dee ova cry so like woman?’ When immunisation time comes and you feel the irresistible need to greet the syringe invading your butt-vacy – the privacy of your butt (kids don’t have privacy) with a resounding squeal, the nurse will empathise with words like don’t cry, strong man, translation = if you cry you’re not a man, men must endure suffering silently even if their pain hurts badly. When you hit adolescence and have had the misfortune of being the son of a rich father, the pressure of equaling his success begins to build as comparisons start being formulated. Having a less financially endowed  father isn’t devoid of stress. Most young men born to modest fathers spend their lives trying not to be like their dads. That's hard, too.

When an African man can fend for himself, he is expected to do so for himself as well as his extended family. Even in these dull economic times, men even jobless are still being expected to start having families. Hit a certain age and still be single, your manhood is questioned.

Sometime in 2001, I effortlessly succeeded in putting myself in front of the discom, the disciplinary committee, of  Government High School, Buea where I schooled. The standard policy then was to welcome those summoned with 7 strokes of the whip. On that particular occasion, the Discipline Master Mr Sambozo – I must admit I have never mastered the spelling of his name - told us as he prepared his whip for the descent on our bodies that this beating was intended to give us clear minds so we could speak the truth. I stepped up to receive my due and the first stroke landed on my butt with thunderous intensity........ O'boy, the pain rattled through my entire body with lightening speed and I felt a pressing urge to unleash wails but all I did ultimately was hold my butt and squeeze it tightly hoping that this would muzzle the tsunami coursing through every stretch of my being. Why didn’t I cry? After the stroke landed and I was in the throes of pain, I suddenly remembered that my English Literature teacher was on the panel and that some classmates -female- were present. What will become of my male esteem in school and amongst my peers as these girls would most certainly be girls and go litter my class with news of my teary exploits?

How hard it is to be a man, anyway? It is hard more than some would care to imagine. It is a lifetime of you -against – the- world situations. But most importantly, it is a lifetime of being forced to deny one’s self basic and affordable privileges like crying and shedding tears when your body desperately needs them for your own welfare. It is a lifetime of trying to live up to society's expectations. It is simply an endless streak of SACRIFICE. If you experience this then you know how hard it is to be a man whether you’re male or female.