It was one of those rainy evenings along the Karu–Keffi road in Nasarawa State. My wife and I were driving quietly, with the rain drumming softly on the car roof like nature’s own percussion. Ahead of us was a Hilux pickup truck. At the back, standing unshielded from the rain, were some road construction workers — drenched, yet focused. My wife looked at them with compassion and said, “These men are really trying… working from morning till evening, now even under the rain. Yet some woman somewhere will still look down on them — or worse, not appreciate them at all. Men are underappreciated!” That’s her classic line. She has a soft spot for hardworking men — though she’s also one of the toughest “men in skirts” I know (don’t tell her I said that).
I laughed and told her what I always say: “Real men don’t work for appreciation. Providing and protecting are our natural responsibilities. It’s in our DNA.” But I’ll admit — there’s a little emotional twist here. While men might not expect appreciation, we respond to honour. That’s a psychological, emotional, and even spiritual fact. Many people don’t know that most men live under invisible rain — the rain of pressure, expectation, and silent burdens. Some soak it in without complaint. They go out daily to hustle, to fix, to protect, to lead. But what happens when they come home? Sadly, too many men return from one storm only to walk into another. A home filled with nagging, accusations, or disrespect becomes a second battlefield.
That’s why, from Monday to Sunday, beer joints are filled with tired men sitting under umbrellas of escape. They are not necessarily drunkards — some are just refugees of dishonour. They’d rather sit where nobody reminds them of their failures than go home to a cold war and a hotter tongue. Science says men are more responsive to respect cues than emotional cues. Scripture says, “Wives, respect your husbands.” Experience says — when you honour a man, he becomes a better version of himself. Men are simple creatures, really. We run on diesel called honour. You can serve him rice without meat and he’ll smile if you served it with respect. But serve him a feast with contempt, and it will taste like sawdust.
Give your husband a nickname. Call him “My King” or “Odogwu of my Heart.” Honour him publicly. Laugh at his dry jokes. Yes, he knows they’re dry — but your laughter is the rain that softens his heart. When a man feels honoured, he naturally wants to protect that honour. He works harder, loves deeper, and stays faithful longer. Because every king loves his kingdom when the queen crowns him daily with honour. After a long day of hustling — from traffic to insults, from deadlines to disappointments — what a man needs most is not a fight waiting at the gate, but peace waiting at the table.
Let the aroma of respect welcome him before the aroma of food. Let your words be his rest, not his wrestling ring. Even when correction is needed, wrap it in honour. Because dishonour never breeds change — it only breeds distance. If you ever want to see how men behave when honoured, just call your husband “My Chairman” one morning. You’ll see him start walking like he just won an election. Honour is free, but it pays more than gold. It turns boys into men, men into kings, and homes into kingdoms.
So, to every woman reading this — the next time it rains, remember those men in the Hilux. They may not ask for thanks, but they crave honour. And to every man reading this — live honourably enough to deserve it. Because in the end, it’s not the rain that weakens a man — it’s coming home to a place where his worth is washed away. But when a woman honours her man, even the heaviest rain becomes a song of strength, and her home becomes his heaven on earth.
