July 17, 2021 is forever etched in my heart. It was the day my first son, who is also my second child, graduated from primary school. I was reeling in pains from the burns I suffered during a domestic fire incident. My legs, wrapped in bandage, were hurting badly.

The Igbo often seem to have a fitting folklore for every situation.

There is one about the woodpecker, who boasted that he would cut down Iroko trees to supply firewood for his mother’s funeral ceremony. But when the sad incident happened, the woodpecker was impaired by a large abscess on his beak. That was going to be my case.

I was particularly emotional about it because my son was the valedictorian. We were both sad that I could not be there for him. I hugged him tightly, encouraged and prayed for him.

With everyone gone, it was just me and an empty house. The void was filled by a rush of memory: his first cry as I paced anxiously outside the labour room, his first day in school, and the long journey to his graduation. I felt a sudden surge of strength and made up my mind to risk it. I called the driver to come back home and take me to the event.

The gratitude and joy in my son’s eyes was evident as he waved at me. I smiled and waved back.

Despite the excruciating pain I felt, I put up a happy face throughout the ceremony and posed for a few photographs with my family.

Several guests congratulated us and many admired my three-piece ceremonial suit. Little did they know that beneath the joyful face and beautiful clothes were bleeding wounds and excruciating pains. I also knew that my doctor would be mad at me for venturing out and for putting on those pairs of trousers and shoes. But all those did not matter to me – what mattered was my son’s happiness.

But guess what? Physical wounds are probably the least of the brunt that men bear. Fatherhood is a great honour. It is a joyful experience and something everyone wishes to experience even in their next life. Yet, it comes with its own realities also worth reflecting on during the Father’s Day celebration.

Even the Bible in Job 14:1 declares that “Man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble.” Therefore, the title, “Men and things are Doing,” is a loose translation (a transliterations actually) of a popular Igbo expression, “Nwoke na ihe na-eme.” It captures the silent struggles of men who bear the weight of their families, friends and relatives.

In our African setting, in the absence of any social welfare scheme, a man begins to bear burdens once he earns his first pay. It is not bad in itself. We have all benefitted from such it.

Furthermore, once a man seeks a bride, he becomes automatically ripe as a provider for his wife and children: food, shelter, clothing, school fees, medical bills, just to name a few. He also becomes ripe for in-laws and the responsibilities that come with it. If grace smiles on you as a man, you will have enough resources to shoulder the responsibilities effortlessly.

Otherwise, it becomes an endless cycle of hustle and pondering from one meal to the other and from one school fees to the other. Like Sisyphus, you are likely going to continue with the cycle until old age gradually creeps in – if you are lucky to live to old age.

My child, the valedictorian, voiced a rather unsettling question when he was in primary four or so.

“Daddy, why do men die earlier?” he had asked, sitting beside me. I was lost, not sure what may have prompted the question. He narrated his observations in school and church.

I could also relate. My father, the late Rabbi Gabriel Anichukwu, teacher and headmaster par excellence, died shortly after my first year in the university. As I stood with my wife facing the congregation on my wedding day, I saw my former boss and number three man in the country at the time, His Excellency, Senator Ken Nnamani, GCON, and a good number of senators. I saw the famed Chief C.C Onoh, former governor of old Anambra State, who honoured us with his presence, having been informed of my wedding that Saturday morning by Barr. Nana Ogbodo. I saw other dignitaries and captains of industry. But my father was conspicuously missing in the congregation. Same applied to my father-in-law. A tear or two dropped on my shoe.

I explained to my son the much his young mind could comprehend, but assured him that his daddy would be there for him till old age, by God’s grace.

Meanwhile, as you age, you discover, as Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Ulysses does, that you are no longer that strength “That ever with a frolic welcome took/ The thunder and the sunshine.” If you are lucky, you will have a family that still treasures your sacrifices and relatives that still remember your contributions to their lives. Otherwise, you are left to rot away as though you were just one foolish, useless, and irresponsible man throughout your life.

Several months ago, I visited a much senior friend. I found just him alone with his driver. who now works as driver, cook, and house manager. A home that had once bustled with life and laughter had become empty and cold. I asked about madam. He retorted, “Uche, when last did I see her? If she is not in Europe today, she is in America tomorrow seeing her children and grandchildren.” Instructively, both have always got along well and their bond was never in doubt. So, the absence could not be intentional.

The tale referenced is not an exception. It is now very common to visit a former rich or influential man living all by himself in a desolate mansion. Children are all abroad or elsewhere. The wife moves from one location to the other. In most cases, “Omugwo” (the Igbo customary practice where a mother travels to nurse her daughter and new grandchild), which typically should not last more than three months, turns into years of “wifelessness” and solitude for the man. You have just a house helo or steward. who manages to cook your meals and administer your drugs for age-related illnesses like hypertension, arthritis, dementia, etc.

Instructively again, men’s health easily fails them as they grow older because of both mental and physical exertion. Years spent sacrificing for others and taking little care of their health, often come home to roost. Before they know what is happening to their bodies, it is already too late. Their days are already numbered.

And God help you if you are married to someone who would rather inundate your children with all your real and imagined

wrongdoings, than highlight your sacrifices. In your sunset, when your strength has failed you, you would begin to wonder if you had not spent your prime raising household enemies. You are abandoned to face death in installments. Just carefully observe your neighbourhood.

It is probably for these reasons that King Solomon wonders in Ecclesiastes 1:3, “What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun?”

But should men, therefore, shy away from their responsibilities?

Never! What then should a man do? The answer lies in Ecclesiastes

2:24 where King Solomon admonishes men: “There is nothing better for a man, than that he should eat and drink, and that he should make his soul enjoy good in his labour. This also I saw, that it was from the hand of God.”

As a man, learn to take care of your physical and mental health.

Make yourself happy, responsibly.

Cut your coat according to your cloth. Importantly, invest in your retirement. And frankly, children should never be the sole retirement hope, for they also have their own (rat) race to run.

Some discussions quickly remind you that your family cannot abandon you if you treated them well in your prime. That is not an absolute truth; for many fathers have been abandoned in spite of all their sacrifices. Again, scan your neighbourhood. Besides, why rely on what is controlled by another person for something as critical as your wellbeing in old age? An Igbo adage reminds us that money in another’s pocket is always very far.

As I conclude, I salute my late father, a gentleman and cerebral headmaster. One of his teachers told me that they usually called him “Mr. Duty is Duty” behind him because of his diligence and work ethic. He and mom taught us hard work and diligence by example.

May their souls continue to rest in peace. Amen!

Happy Father’s Day to my fellow fathers.

Mazi Anichukwu is a media consultant and public affairs analyst