Suicide remains one of the most painful and complex public health challenges of our time. For those left behind, the grief can be overwhelming, filled with questions, regrets and a haunting sense of “what if?”
This month, as global attention turns to suicide prevention and mental health awareness, the focus is shifting, not just toward statistics or services, but toward the stories we tell and the way we treat those who are struggling.
This year’s theme, “Changing the Narrative: Suicide Prevention in a Changing World,” calls upon us all to challenge harmful myths, reduce stigma and foster open, compassionate conversations.
It is a call to move away from silence and misunderstanding, and instead, embrace empathy to create environments where people can speak up and seek help.
According to the World Health Organization, suicide is both a grim and urgent matter, claiming over 720,000 lives globally every year. The subject itself carries immense weight. Even speaking about it can be uncomfortable, yet for those who have lost a loved one, the grief is immeasurable.
Families are left with questions that may never be answered, replaying moments and wishing they could have listened more, hugged tighter, or responded differently.
Keep Reading
- Self care: The path to being a better parent
- How to deal with sibling rivalry
- How to introduce children to budget literacy
- Why are teenagers hardwired for risky decisions?
Suicide often comes with few obvious signs, making it painfully unpredictable, and leaving loved ones wondering where they might have missed the mark.
In Kenya, recent statistics reveal that the country loses about four people each day to suicide, with men disproportionately affected. Between 2017 and 2021, more than 1,500 deaths by suicide were officially recorded.
Counties such as Kilifi and Nyeri continue to report multiple cases each month, underscoring the weight of the crisis.
“Changing the narrative means shifting from blame to understanding. For years, suicide was even criminalised in Kenya. Now, with attempted suicide no longer a crime, we finally have the chance to treat people with compassion rather than punishment. But changing the law is only the beginning as we must also change attitudes,” says Caroline Munene, a Nairobi-based psychologist.
Munene’s words reflect the raw and candid voices often heard online. On X, one user lamented: “We lose too many to silence. Talking about mental health shouldn’t be taboo; it should be as normal as talking about malaria”.
Another wrote on Facebook: “If therapy is expensive, let’s start community support circles. Healing doesn’t always have to be clinical.”
These sentiments echo what Munene hears in her practice every day: Kenyans long for spaces where vulnerability is recognised as an act of courage, not mistaken for weakness.
“The narrative shift also requires us to look at the social pressures, such as joblessness, debt, or family breakdowns. Mental health doesn’t exist in a vacuum. If we want to prevent suicide, we must build stronger support systems, both formal and informal,” she says.
Formal support, she explains, includes professional mental health services such as counselling, psychotherapy, and psychiatric care. This also extends to government initiatives, helplines, school counsellors, and workplace wellness programmes.
Although the infrastructure in Kenya remains limited, small steps, such as the Ministry of Health’s toll-free mental health hotline, are helping to bridge gaps.
Informal support, on the other hand, comes from families, friends, religious institutions, and community groups. Sometimes, a safe conversation with a trusted friend, a listening neighbour, or a support circle at a local church can provide the relief that professional help alone cannot.
In many Kenyan communities, informal support networks carry significant influence, often becoming the first point of contact for those in distress.
“The truth is, not everyone will walk into a clinic or call a therapist. But they may talk to a sibling, a pastor, or even a colleague. If we can normalise those everyday spaces as safe for honest conversations, we can save more lives,” she says.