ANELE SISWANA | How far have we come for men struggling in the aftermath of floods?

When the floods tore through the Eastern Cape in June, especially in and around Mthatha, the devastation was staggering. Homes and roads were destroyed, schools and clinics washed away. More than a hundred people lost their lives; thousands were displaced.

Yet beneath the headlines and statistics lies another story —one that rarely makes the evening news: the quiet suffering of men in the aftermath.

In many South African communities, men are taught that strength means silence. They must provide, protect, rebuild no matter how deep their own losses run. But when disaster strikes, the pressure to “stay strong” can turn into something corrosive: shame, withdrawal, rage or despair.

The hidden toll of survival

The physical damage of floods is visible. The psychological wreckage is not. In Mthatha and surrounding areas, hundreds of schools and dozens of health facilities were damaged or destroyed. This kind of disruption unsettles every layer of daily life. It throws families into crisis and amplifies the emotional strain on men who already feel responsible for restoring order and income.

Government interventions like psychosocial mobile teams and social workers in affected districts are important. But they often don’t reach everyone. For many men, barriers run deeper than logistics. Time, stigma and cultural expectations still keep mental health services out of reach. In communities where “real men don’t cry”, reaching out for help can feel like breaking an unspoken code.

Disaster fatigue and the cost of repetition

We’ve seen this pattern before. In KwaZulu-Natal, repeated floods over recent years have produced what psychologists call disaster fatigue — the sense of emotional depletion that comes when survival itself becomes a cycle.

A 2022 study interviewing flood survivors in KZN captured this vividly: people spoke of hopelessness, grief and growing distrust in authorities. Many men described feeling invisible expected to rebuild without rest or recognition. Other research from the Durban floods linked infrastructure loss, job instability and displacement with rising rates of anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress.

These findings point to an uncomfortable truth: disasters don’t just wash away homes; they erode dignity and identity especially for men whose sense of self is tied to being providers.

What we’re still missing

We know too little about what recovery really looks like for men in places like Mthatha. How do they cope when they can’t provide? When grief mixes with guilt, when trauma meets poverty?

If recovery is to mean more than rebuilding structures, it must also rebuild people.

There’s almost no longitudinal data tracking men’s mental health months after the floods. We don’t know how many remain sleepless, angry, withdrawn or numb long after the debris is cleared. Nor do we fully understand how economic loss of land, business or livestock intensifies psychological distress.

Policy frameworks also lag behind. Disaster management plans are written in gender-neutral language but operate in gendered realities. Support often focuses, rightly, on vulnerable groups such as women and children, but overlooks that men, too, can be vulnerable in different ways. There are few male-targeted outreach programmes and almost no spaces where men can safely talk about trauma without fear of judgment.

Rethinking recovery

If recovery is to mean more than rebuilding structures, it must also rebuild people. Psychosocial support after disasters cannot be an afterthought or a checkbox exercise it must be culturally aware and inclusive of men’s experiences.

That means designing interventions that meet men where they are: in workplaces, in community gatherings, at churches, in sports clubs. It means training local leaders and faith figures to spot emotional distress, normalising help-seeking and reframing mental health not as weakness but as resilience.

We also need research rooted in local experience, not just imported models. Understanding how masculinity, culture and survival intersect is essential if we want sustainable recovery not just temporary relief.

A collective responsibility

The conversation about mental health after disasters has widened, but not far enough. Men’s emotional struggles remain hidden behind stoicism and survival. And yet, when men suffer silently, families and communities absorb that pain too.

Caring for men’s mental health is not about shifting attention away from others; it’s about completing the picture. Healing cannot be partial. The strength we celebrate in men must also include the courage to feel, to seek help, to heal.

As we rebuild roads and bridges in the Eastern Cape, let’s also rebuild the social and emotional bridges that keep communities whole. The floods have shown us what water can destroy. Now we must show what humanity can restore.

Anele Siswana is a clinical psychologist

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