Mental illness is not a joke. My friend, Ufan, has bipolar disorder. At first, what we thought were normal mood swings got worse. The periods of quiet, like the calm before the ominous storm, became shorter and easier to recognize. The highs became wilder, more unrestrained. One moment, Ufan was happy as a lark and the next, Ufan would get very quiet and then fall into long periods of depression.
All sorts of things were said before the diagnosis. How my friend had touch and go madness. How a spirit from their family was tormenting Ufan, how Ufan was possessed; how my friend wasnt a true believer, for no true Christian would suffer from depression.
Ufan was taken for deliverance in different prayer houses, thanks to desperate parents who’d tried everything but see a specialist. At one point, Ufan was bound with chains and kept in a prayer house for a week. How I cried at the indignity my friend suffered.
Then one day, this lady, a friend of their family, came to see Ufan. Until her, I didn’t even know shrinks were beautiful, cool and intelligent people.
I just thought that everything connected to psychiatry was old, musty, bad, creepy etc. This lady took one look at my friend, asked questions and ordered that Ufan be taken to see someone, another psychiatrist.
One week and medications later, Ufan was back to her bubbling personality. From this doctor, my friend learned to tell the triggers, what to avoid, how to take the medication, and live a full life with this illness that has no cure.
Today, one can’t tell that Ufan is bipolar, unless Ufan divulges that info. Ufan is one of the lucky few, that have been diagnosed and their conditions are being managed.
Emeka and Akpanudo on the other hand, represent the rest of the population of those living with mental illness, whose conditions have deteriorated without treatment, who roam the streets, stigmatized and made fun of.
Emeka lived across from my building in Enugu. Whenever he was calm, he’d beg for money or food as he was very particular about having a neat haircut and always washed his hands before and after eating, even if that food were remains he found in a dumpster.
I’ll never forget how Emeka became my friend. One day, while returning from a nearby kiosk, Emeka walked up to me and threw his arm around my shoulders.
I was frightened out of my wits. My heart thumped in my chest and saliva mysteriously evaporated from my mouth.
“Good afternoon, Beautiful One,” he said. “May I please have one of those biscuits you just bought? Or if you don’t mind, may I please have money to buy mine?”
All this was said with a charming smile that revealed two mischievous dimples and a gap in his teeth.
I was blown away!
We talked. Turns out, he spoke better English than I and he used to be an engineering student who suffered psychosis due to substance abuse. Instead of being given treatment, he was called mad, laughed at and thrown out to the streets. I used to wish there was something I could do for him.
But back then, I knew very little and wasnt as outspoken. One night, some men came and kicking and screaming, they carried Emeka away. I never saw him again.
Akpanudo wasnt so lucky. He parents died when he was a teenager and he took over the care and education of his younger siblings. Then he began to complain of headaches, became very restless and fell into depression.
No one did anything. When he became very erratic, they ferried him down to the village. None of those siblings or other relatives could come up with money to take him to the hospital to get checked out.
They concluded that he was mad and settled for feeding him whatever they could spare whenever he came around to beg for food.
Two weeks ago, Akpanudo hung himself. Those same relatives, both Christians and non-christians, who had no money to foot his medical bills, coughed out a hundred and fifty thousand naira to pay a juju priest to do certain sacrifices, before his body was brought down.
When I asked why, I was told that if that wasn’t done, everyone in the village would begin to die prematurely and mysteriously. I just cried.
We need to change the way we view mental illness in this country.
The mind is an amazing thing, capable of stuff even scientists haven’t fully discovered.
Our religious leaders should stop dabbling in things they don’t understand. We cannot sweep everything under the carpet of possession and spiritual attacks, real as those things may be. We should strive to advise people to exhaust every avenue of treatment, before we arrive at that conclusion.
Our mental health professionals have a long way to go in sensitizing people about mental health, the risks involved, how they can be managed, counselling and other options available to both the sufferers and their families.
It is a perpetual shame on us, if we keep losing brilliant minds and awesome people to issues that have solutions.
NB: This was a Facebook post written by Eketi on September 8, 2016
