By Bianca Iboma-Emefu
As the world observes International Widow’s Day 2025 with the theme “Empower Her: From Loss to Leadership,” Total Life Concern (TLC), a dedicated NGO advocating for widows’ rights, has intensified its campaign across Nigeria and Africa. The organization aims to challenge harmful traditional practices inflicted on widows and promote their dignity, rights, and social inclusion. Edirin Essiet, a legal practitioner, and the convener of TLC, emphasized that the NGO’s mission is to alleviate the suffering of vulnerable widows—both young and old—by empowering them with skills, resources and support. “Every widow has the right to grieve, grow, lead and thrive,” she declared.
Essiet highlighted the NGO’s impactful programmes, including skill acquisition schemes, health initiatives, educational support for widows’ children, cash donations during special occasions, and recreational activities to boost morale and combat depression. “Our goal is to build resilience and restore dignity through sustainable support systems, inclusive policies, and empowerment programmes,” she affirmed.
The event featured ‘widows’ corner,’ where widows shared heartfelt stories—revealing the trauma inflicted by traditional practices that often worsen their suffering. Among them were Mrs. Toyin Omadoku and Grace Ibanga, who recounted the emotional and physical hardships faced after losing their spouses. One widow, who identified herself simply as Mama Monday, shared her harrowing experience:
“I was very young when I became a widow, with four children to care for. My husband, a soldier, from Rivers State, was killed while serving in Liberia. The military justice system failed to deliver justice, and I endured harmful traditional rites—my hair was shaved, I was kept in darkness, and my suffering was unimaginable. Yet, through the support of the military community and my resilience, I managed to raise my children and rebuild my life.”
Mama Monday emphasized that the shadows of tradition and the untold struggles of widows demand attention. She shared her experience:
“I was very young when I became a widow, with four children. I am from Agenebode, Auchi, in Esako Local Government Area of Edo State. My husband was a soldier from Ohaoda in Rivers State. He was assigned to peacekeeping in Liberia with other soldiers living in Ojo Barracks. I was pregnant with our fourth child at the time. My husband was still in Liberia when I gave birth to our son, the last child for him. My son was just one month and two weeks old when he was killed.
“The major my husband worked with shot him in the bush. Soldiers who saw him could not testify, and the court-martial of the major was unsuccessful. Initially, he was detained and kept in the guardroom, but we didn’t get justice.
“When I heard of his death, I was devastated. Neighbors from the barracks took care of me. My husband’s family came to Lagos, and we arranged for a fitting burial in his community, despite the military taking care of his body.
“My husband’s younger brother was listed as the next-of-kin, and when he came, I thought he was acting kindly, unaware of his true intentions. When military officers called my attention to the documents for my husband’s benefits, I thought everything was fine because we were going to the village, and I believed he would care for his late brother’s family.
“However, after the cash was paid, I didn’t feel troubled. We returned everything to my husband’s village. I was subjected to harmful traditional rites—my hair was shaved, and I was kept in darkness, even though I was breastfeeding.
“They took my son away while I endured this. I was kept in a dark room, not allowed to see the sun. I didn’t know where my children were, and the room had no light. They only opened the door slightly to pass food and water. I excreted and urinated in that room.
“The torture I endured was unimaginable. They woke me up to cry inside the dark room. The first time I saw light was when I escaped.
“One woman had compassion and helped plan our escape. I found myself in Port Harcourt, then Lagos. When we arrived in Lagos, I went into the barracks because I had nowhere else to go.
“Although another soldier had been allocated the house, the NCO, Papa Rowland, intervened and ensured we kept it because of our situation—a widow with children and a nursing mother. I became traumatized and started acting as if I had a mental illness, but I was cared for.
“My children were raised in the barracks, with support from others. I started a petty business frying garri and selling it in Lusada and Igbesa areas of Ogun State. My children are now grown: two daughters, Patience and Elena, joined the military, while my sons are an engineer and a teacher. We have never visited my husband’s village to this day.”
Another widow, Marie Sheidu, shared: “Every time I wake up and remember what I went through as a widow, I become traumatized. It was very difficult to put myself together after the treatment I received.”
Martha, a mother of nine, whose husband died unexpectedly, exemplifies this plight. Her story underscores that, in many cultures worldwide, the death of a husband not only brings grief but also a host of challenges that exacerbate a widow’s suffering.
“When my husband was suddenly taken from me, grief overwhelmed me, but what followed was a harsh reality that threatened my survival. In the weeks after his funeral, family members who once supported me turned their backs, leaving me to navigate widowhood alone.
“The traditions in my village are suffocating. Instead of condolences, I faced stigmatization and isolation. Widows are often met with harmful practices ranging from economic disenfranchisement to violence.
“I was shunned by my late husband’s family and ostracized by neighbours who believed I was cursed. The stigma painted a target on me, inviting gossip and judgment.
“I was accused of bringing bad luck, and my suffering was seen as a punishment. My pleas for support went unheard, and I became a ghost in my community.
“The loss of my husband also meant losing my financial security. Without inheritance rights, I was left with nothing but the burden of raising nine children alone.
“Harsh traditions forced me to relinquish my husband’s property, leaving me powerless. I resorted to odd jobs, working long hours for little pay. The economic strain, coupled with the stress and fatigue of single motherhood, was overwhelming.
“I sought help from government programmes, but bureaucratic barriers made it impossible. The emotional toll was even worse.
“Widows are expected to perform elaborate mourning rituals that can last years, turning grief into a performance that drains energy and denies healing. Society advised me to adhere to customs—living in seclusion, wearing black—yet I longed for connection and joy with my children.
“Society’s norms stripped me of these rights, trapping me in despair. Yet, despite everything, I stand tall today—a resilient widow who advocates for change. My voice now echoes hope—a call for societal transformation to support widows rather than stigmatize them.”
Mrs. Bukomi, a young widow, shared her experience of losing her husband a week before his 36th birthday while pregnant. Mrs. Grace Ibanga, a mother of seven, described the financial and emotional toll following her husband’s sudden death:
“I was abandoned by my husband; even his siblings didn’t bother to check on us. The stress and pain were left on my shoulders.”
Another widow recounted being subjected to barbaric mourning customs, such as being forbidden from changing clothes or bathing immediately after her husband’s passing—based on outdated traditions.
Hadiza Baba Thomas, widowed at 37 with two children, shared: “I married in 1988. My marriage was blessed with two sons. One day, my husband fell ill; within two hours, his blood pressure shot up, and he died.
“Although I was widowed at a young age, I decided not to remarry after seeing what some widows go through. I’ve seen widows who remarried due to pressure—some succumbed to societal expectations, but I chose otherwise.
“I love my husband and don’t want to replace him. I met my husband while working at a bank; he was a customer. I never noticed him until I served him.
“He was in the military, a captain, and we started our relationship while he was visiting Kaduna. We married in traditional and church ceremonies, then traveled around Nigeria due to his postings.
“Although we were often apart, our time together was memorable. He was in Liberia for four years. During his illness, I was overwhelmed, but the military community supported me—women and officers alike.
“When he died, I was instructed not to bathe or change clothes until after the funeral. I was devastated but managed to cope with their support. After the burial, I returned to Lokoja and Owerri, raising my children with the help of bank colleagues and community support.
“Today, my children are grown. They may not have their ideal jobs yet, but I am no longer burdened. I advise widows to focus on raising their children rather than remarrying, especially for young widows under societal pressure. Widows should instead pursue trades or small businesses and live peacefully.”
The NGO underscores that these harmful practices are rooted in cultural misconceptions and emphasizes the need for collective action to protect widows’ rights, promote social inclusion, and eradicate stigmatization.
“Widowhood is one of life’s most difficult challenges. It is time to end the suffering caused by harmful customs and empower widows to reclaim their dignity,” Essiet concluded.
This International Widow’s Day serves as a vital reminder of widows’ resilience and the ongoing responsibility to support their journey from loss to leadership. As they navigate widowhood’s challenges, all they seek is hope—a firm belief that change is possible.
TLC remains committed to advocating for widows’ rights, calling for support systems that empower rather than isolate. Through awareness campaigns and community discussions, TLC aims to educate others about the damaging effects of harmful traditions. They foster support networks among widows, sharing stories that emphasize widowhood should not be associated with shame or neglect.
Widowhood reflects the struggles faced by countless women worldwide. Their stories highlight the urgent need for societal change—one rooted in compassion, financial literacy, and emotional support. In a world where tradition often controls lives, it is time to speak out against darkness and illuminate paths toward healing and empowerment for widows.