Losing my husband, Aketi, – the love of my life, my lifelong companion and unwavering supporter – has been a deeply shattering experience.
The silence that follows such a loss is deafening. Yet, in the midst of grief, I stumbled upon a quiet path to healing—writing. Interestingly, it was through @DavidHundeyin, a courageous Nigerian investigative journalist I follow on X, that I first encountered Substack. Without him, I doubt I would have discovered this remarkable community. David’s fearless writing—often a bold critique of bad governance in Nigeria and across Africa—first drew me in.
Though I’ve never met him, his words spoke to something deep within me. That’s the power of social media: it bridges people who may never cross paths in real life, yet share common truths and convictions.
Now, as I navigate the lonely terrain of widowhood, Substack has become a place of solace.
Writing helps me process the pain, reclaim my voice, explore the possibility of growing as a writer and reinforce my activism on issues I care about. It’s not just about coping, it’s about finding purpose in the aftermath. In this digital village of storytellers, I am slowly rediscovering myself and realising that certain talents are embedded in all of us until they are triggered by unforeseen situations.
