For the Men Who Stay

Honouring the men whose courage doesn’t roar…it simply stays.

There’s a story my Nma used to tell, back when NEPA has done what it does best and the night was thick with silence. It was about a man called Okuru, known in the village not for his strength or height or voice, but for something far less glamorous. People said he was “steady.” Nothing more. Nothing less.

Usually, when my Nma starts her tales, the heroes are usually the men who slay something, break something, conquer something. Okuru didn’t fit that image. He wasn’t the type to make noise. He didn’t have muscles that made children stare or a voice that made women pause. He was the man who fetched water before dawn, volunteered to check on Pa Nkem , sit quietly with a friend who was grieving, not offering advice, just presence. If he ever raised his voice, no one remembered.

According to my Nma, one night , a storm swallowed the whole village. Trees bent, roofs shook and children could be heard crying, as their mothers screamed. After consulting the gods, the elders said the river had risen in anger again, threatening to wash away the little houses closest to its banks.

At the time, I wondered how they had time to consult the gods in all that mayhem, wouldn’t the shrine had been threatened too? I asked my Nma, can’t remember her response now. Anyway, people panicked. The strongest men ran to tie their boats. The hunters gathered their weapons. Mothers grabbed their children and shouted instructions. Everyone was loud, afraid, and trying to save something.

Except Okuru.

He walked straight to the riverbank with a lantern and a rope. And that night, the story says he did a simple thing that saved the village. He went from home to home, checking on families that lived closest to the rising water. He carried children on his shoulders. He helped widows move their belongings to higher ground. He stood in the rain, guiding neighbours through the darkness, making sure no one slipped or disappeared under the storm. He didn’t fight or defeat anything. He just stayed long enough to make sure everyone got to safety.

When the storm finally left, and the sun returned, the village gathered around the river and realised something: No one died. No one was left behind. Simply because one man was brave enough to stay present.

That is the heart of the story.

As a curious teenager, I used to wonder if he had no family or ambition. I wondered if just being there was enough for him…or anyone. As I have grown older, I have reached a different realisation: bravery is not always big or loud or dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like showing up when it’s inconvenient; choosing responsibility instead of applause or holding steady when you feel like running.

And as I think about International Men’s Day today, I think of the Okurus in my life. Men who may never be called heroes but who show up in ways that matter.

Men like Nonso, Paul, Ikenna, Edima, Uyi, Sotonye, Chimezie, Kaz, Mr. Chris, Mr. Dare, Osy bebe, Precious…who wake up and try again. Men who carry families, friendships, teams, even when their own shoulders feel tired. Men who fight private battles no one sees and still manage to be kind. Men who protect without performing. Men who love without spectacle. Men whose courage is quiet but consistent.

In a culture that often confuses masculinity with noise, dominance, or chest-beating, I want to honour the men whose bravery looks like steadiness.

Not because they want to be praised, but because they cannot imagine leaving people in the dark.

So today, here’s to the men who stay, and are trying, truly trying, even if imperfectly.

Your kind of bravery deserves a story too.

Happy International Men’s Day!!

If this reminded you of any man in your life, send it to them. Their kind of bravery deserves more than a smile emoji