For over a decade, Nigeria has been engaged in a relentless conflict against terrorism, particularly in the northern region.
Thousands of lives have been lost, but among those who survive, invisible casualties remain.
Many military personnel and civilians who have witnessed the conflict firsthand move around with both physical and emotional scars.
Beyond physical injuries that sometimes lead to permanent disabilities, many soldiers carry deep psychological scars, harbouring traumatic stories that may never be fully told.
The images of war can remain with those who witness such events closely, following them home and into their everyday lives.
I was reminded of this painful reality on my way to a workshop at the University of Lagos (UNILAG) American Space.
Sitting at the front of the commercial bus was a soldier in camouflage. The sight is not unusual while commuting around Lagos, where soldiers often prefer the front seats. Commercial drivers also tend to oblige them, as their presence can help ward off some “dangers”.
Nothing seemed unusual until we reached Ikeja, near the Police College, where the soldier disembarked.
He spoke briefly with the driver and disappeared into the Lagos crowd.
After he left, the puzzled driver explained the strange encounter.
According to him, the soldier had originally boarded the bus in Yaba during an earlier trip heading towards Iyana Ipaja, but upon reaching Iyana Ipaja, he insisted that he was actually going to Yaba, where the journey had started.
Halfway through the return trip, at Ikeja, the soldier suddenly changed his mind again, claiming that his destination was Ojota.
He eventually announced that he needed to get to Ifo in Ogun State. The inconsistency was worrisome and suggested that he might not have been in the right state of mind.
He eventually fizzled out of the encounter, leaving the driver totally confused, as he boarded another bus and slipped away into the morning rush.
The other passengers, particularly the older women, began whispering, pitying the man and suggesting that he was losing his mind.
One particularly concerned elderly woman, a trader on her way to resume business, said she had noticed the soldier’s unusual behaviour.
But I saw something far more tragic: the silent, overwhelming weight of possible trauma.
His disoriented wanderings might have been more than mere absent-mindedness. They could have been signs of psychological distress, perhaps reflecting the unseen burden carried by someone who has spent years exposed to the realities of conflict.
Mental health challenges are increasingly becoming a concern across Nigeria, serving as a sobering reminder that regardless of physical strength, uniform or discipline, no human being is entirely immune to the psychological costs of prolonged stress and traumatic experiences.
The soldier disappeared into the Lagos crowd, but his brief and confusing journey remained with me.
It was a reminder that some of the deepest wounds carried by those who serve are not always visible.