When silence is fatal

Once upon a time, suicide was taboo in Nigeria and many people grew up with the idea that Nigerians simply did not take their own lives. Cultural beliefs, strong family structures, and deep religious values made it unimaginable. Yet in recent times, the conversation has begun to shift. More stories appear in the media, and we are increasingly confronted with the reality of death by suicide.

Statistics, though imperfect, help to provide context. Recent research suggests that about eight percent of Nigerians experience serious thoughts about suicide at some point in their lives, while roughly two percent develop a plan and around one percent report an attempt. In 2025, within the Senate chambers, a lawmaker rose and called the nation’s attention to numbers that had grown too large to ignore; 16,000 Nigeran lives lost to suicide annually.

To fully understand the human side of these numbers, consider the anonymised story of “Nkem,” a fictional character representing many real experiences. They used to say Nkem was made of iron. She was the one who remembered birthdays, who sent money home before anyone asked, who smiled even when Lagos traffic swallowed her mornings and returned her late into the night. “First daughters don’t break,” her mum often said and Nkem believed her. At family gatherings, she laughed louder than she felt, hiding her exhaustion. When she scrolled silently in her private space, social media was filled with classmates buying houses, travelling abroad, announcing engagements. Her heart beat fiercely with panic and questions she could not verbalise.

When sleep began to slip away from her, she told herself it was temporary. When food lost its taste, she blamed her new role at work; even when her chest felt heavy, she still kept silent. One rainy evening as she sat alone in her small apartment, power went out again and all she could hear was the noise of the generators; she knew she could not take it any longer. She stared at the ceiling, feeling as though the world was moving on while she was being sucked into a very deep dark hole. It was not one problem that overwhelmed her. It was the slow accumulation of the unspoken expectations, the quiet loneliness and the belief that she must never appear weak. She tried very hard yet there seemed to be no way out of that black hole, there was no glimmer of light… only dark hopelessness. Those that loved Nkem would later remember her kindness, how she gave even when she had little, how she seemed to hold everyone else together. Some were perplexed, some were angry, some struggled with guilt but they all had the same question ‘…why didn’t she say?’ But questions come easily after the event.

Mental-health awareness has increased, but access to affordable professional support remains limited. While conversations about depression and anxiety are becoming more common, there are still relatively few mental-health professionals compared to the size of the population. In addition, stigma continues to discourage many people from seeking help. Emotional struggles are sometimes interpreted as weakness rather than as legitimate health concerns; this causes individuals to suffer silently until distress becomes overwhelming.

Though Nigeria is a nation rich in resilience, faith, and community even the strongest cultures must make space for vulnerability. Strength should not mean silence. Faith should not mean concealing. The community should not wait until grief to listen because sometimes the greatest act of strength is allowing someone else to help you carry the weight. Nkem’s story is a gentle but urgent reminder that behind many calm faces are storms no one else can see. If we learn to notice the quiet signs, to ask deeper questions, to listen without judging perhaps fewer stories will end in sorrow.

The changing conversation around death by suicide is both a challenge and an opportunity. It challenges society to confront pain that has often been hidden, but it also offers a chance to build systems of care that honour human dignity. By combining compassion, awareness, and practical support, Nigeria can move toward a future where fewer people feel trapped by silence and more people find the courage to reach out before despair takes hold.

Chiadi Ndu, PhD; Chartered Psychologist.