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| Men in ‘school’ |
By Ebuka Ukoh
Below, Ukoh contends that Senegal has shown that men can be transformed from bystanders into allies in maternal healthcare.
In Senegal, husbands are returning to school, not to obtain degrees, but to learn how to save their wives’ lives. In community circles called “Schools for Husbands,” men gather to learn about maternal health, safe childbirth, and family care.
This simple initiative is already decreasing maternal deaths by turning men into active, supportive partners in maternal healthcare.
Contrast this with Nigeria. Just weeks ago, local newspapers reported yet another tragedy involving a young mother in Bauchi, who bled to death after giving birth at home. Her husband admitted he thought antenatal visits were “women’s business” and didn’t realise his presence at the clinic could have made a difference.
Her story is not unique; it reflects the harsh reality for far too many Nigerian families.
We mourn these women, but mourning alone will not save the next mother. The truth is clear: Too often, Nigerian men are absent from the room where life-and-death decisions are made. Until that changes, no number of hospitals, midwives, or donor funds will suffice.
Let’s do a quick reality check: Nigeria is a patriarchal society where cultural pressures compel individuals to uphold strict gender norms. Household decisions, from whether a woman attends antenatal care to where she gives birth, are often influenced by men. At the same time, Nigeria is deeply religious. That’s what makes the Senegalese example powerful: There, a spiritual leader is in charge.
If Nigerian imams and pastors championed shared family roles, the ripple effects could be transformative. Urban and rural communities alike would benefit from tailored training - whether addressing high hospital costs in Lagos or long travel distances in Jigawa. Context may vary, but the principle remains the same - When men step up, women survive, and children thrive.
Evidence is plentiful. When men participate in maternal health, outcomes improve. So does family life. Women are more likely to attend antenatal care, deliver with skilled birth attendants, and receive postpartum care. In states like Jigawa, where maternal health indicators are poor, male involvement is not optional - it is urgent.
Campaigns that positively frame masculinity, portraying men as protectors and allies rather than bystanders, dismantle harmful stereotypes. When men embrace this role, couples communicate more openly, women feel supported, and children flourish.
Religion can either entrench unhelpful norms or accelerate change. Both the Bible and the Quran emphasise family care as a sacred duty. The Bible urges parents to guide their children; the Quran calls for gratitude and righteousness within family life. These teachings are not gender-specific - they apply equally to fathers and mothers.
If pastors and imams presented male engagement in maternal health as obedience to God, cultural resistance would give way to responsibility. Nigeria’s faith leaders hold the moral authority to turn silence into action.
Transforming male behaviour in reproductive health is about more than saving mothers - it reshapes society. Male engagement reduces early marriage, improves family planning uptake, and diminishes gender-based violence.
It also directly links to girl-child education. Communities where men respect women’s reproductive autonomy are where girls are more likely to stay in school. Engaging men in maternal health, therefore, is not a distraction from gender equality, it is the very pathway to it.
The question is no longer whether male engagement works; it is how Nigeria will act upon it.
• Pilot programmes: Train men and women together across rural and urban communities.
• Legislative frameworks: Enact laws and allocate funding to ensure male engagement is sustainable.
• Community dialogues: Foster brave spaces for men and women to challenge gender norms.
• Faith-based campaigns: Mobilise imams and pastors to preach shared family responsibility.
• Partnerships: Unite healthcare workers, educators, and community leaders to normalise men’s presence at clinics.
This work demands courage and compassion. We are confronting behaviours ingrained for generations. Change will not happen overnight, but silence will never bring about progress. The conversation must start and continue until the transformation becomes visible.
Who should lead this effort? The answer is simple - everyone. Maternal health is not women’s work, it’s Nigeria’s work. From the pulpit to policymakers, every hand is needed.
The Ministry of Health, NGOs, religious institutions, and local groups all have roles to play. Male engagement in maternal health is not just a gender issue; it is a matter of national survival.
Nigeria does not lack faith, culture, or community. What it lacks is the will to let those forces work for, not against, women. Religious leaders can remind us that family care is a sacred duty. Policymakers can fund programmes that welcome men into clinics, rather than exclude them. Communities can start the difficult but necessary conversations about manhood, responsibility, and partnership.
The path is challenging, but it is achievable. Nigeria should not be recognised as the country where mothers die needlessly, but as the nation where fathers choose to stand up.
Senegal has demonstrated that men can be moulded from bystanders into allies. Nigeria must now decide: Will we continue burying mothers, or start training fathers?
Here is the truth: If we want fewer widowers, fewer orphans, and fewer empty chairs at the family table, then we need more husbands, expectant fathers, in the maternity ward. Nigeria can turn this around, but only if our men show up.
~Mr. Ukoh, an alumnus of American University of Nigeria, Yola, and PhD student at Columbia University, writes from New York.
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