On 10 October, Zambia joined the world in marking World Mental Health Day 2025 under the theme “Mental Health in Humanitarian Emergencies.”

The Ministry of Health led the commemoration in Lusaka, where officials, health professionals and students gathered to discuss how crises such as disease outbreaks or floods affect people’s minds as deeply as their bodies. According to the Lusaka Times, Health Minister Dr Elijah Muchima called for stronger investment in mental-health services and reminded the country that psychological wellbeing is part of national development, not a side issue. It was a rare moment when mental health took centre stage in public life.

Still, I wonder how many people watching or reading those headlines actually felt seen. We have been through a lot as a nation. From the pandemic to cholera, droughts and power cuts, Zambians have carried silent burdens that rarely make it into official speeches. We talk about prices, fuel and the economy, but not the mental toll of living through uncertainty. We say we are “stressed”, but deep down we know it is more than that.

When the World Health Organization chose this year’s theme, it was to remind governments that mental-health care is not a luxury. In emergencies people lose homes, jobs, loved ones and stability. Recovery must include psychological support because healing is not only about rebuilding infrastructure, it is about rebuilding people. Yet in much of Africa, mental health has rarely been part of the emergency conversation. Our responses still focus on food, shelter and water. The heart is left to fend for itself.

Talking about mental health in Zambia has never been easy. We are taught that strong people do not complain. In many families, showing emotion is confused with weakness. When someone seems withdrawn or anxious, the first reaction is often spiritual rather than medical: “pray about it”, “you will be fine”. These responses come from care, not cruelty, but they can make people feel even more alone.

That silence has a cost. Studies show that around one in four Zambians will experience some form of mental or neurological disorder in their lifetime, yet only a fraction ever receive help. Most of our mental-health budget still goes to one central hospital, Chainama Hospital, while community care is almost non-existent. It means that for many people, the first point of support is a friend, a pastor or no one at all.

This year’s theme might sound abstract, but it is not. It is about the teacher who loses her home in a flood, the nurse who spends weeks in an isolation ward, the young man who cannot find work and begins to feel hopeless. These are humanitarian emergencies too, just quieter ones.

During the national event, Dr Muchima spoke about the need to train more counsellors and to integrate mental health into every level of the health system. That vision is a start, but it cannot end with policy papers. It has to reach ordinary people in schools, workplaces, markets and churches. Mental-health care does not begin in a hospital. It begins with conversation. It begins when someone can say, “I am not okay,” and be met with empathy rather than judgement.

Across Africa and among many communities of colour worldwide, distress has long been treated as a private burden. People say they are “thinking too much” or that a heaviness has settled on them. These phrases are part of our languages and our resilience, yet they often hide pain. Strength became our survival strategy, but unspoken trauma does not disappear. It shows up as exhaustion, irritability, addiction or even physical illness. It is time we saw vulnerability as courage, not collapse.

Zambia is slowly catching up. In refugee settlements, organisations such as RefuCare Zambia offer psychosocial support for adolescents, especially girls. Universities are setting up counselling centres, and the Ministry of Health has begun pilot projects to integrate mental-health care into primary facilities. These are steps in the right direction. But as WHO points out, most low- and middle-income countries dedicate less than two per cent of their health budgets to mental health. Without proper funding, goodwill fades quickly.

Yet there is hope in the small things. This year’s commemorations included youth performances and wellness activities that showed healing can happen through connection. The younger generation seems more open to talking about anxiety and burnout than their parents ever were. Maybe they will break the silence that has trapped so many before them.
For anyone navigating their own struggles, know this: you are not weak for feeling overwhelmed. You are living through layers of challenge and still showing up. That is strength. But strength does not mean going it alone. It is okay to talk to someone, to rest, to seek joy.

If our country is serious about resilience, it cannot only be about roads and hospitals. It must include the mind and heart. Humanitarian preparedness should involve mental-health training for first responders, helplines that work and support systems in schools and workplaces. These are the quiet infrastructures that hold a nation together long after a crisis passes.

As Zambia moves forward from this year’s World Mental Health Day, let us remember what Dr Muchima said: there is no health without mental health. The real test is whether we will still be talking about it once the banners are packed away. Because humanitarian emergencies do not always look like war zones. Sometimes they look like everyday life, quietly unfolding behind the smile of someone you know.

Perhaps that is where the healing begins, when we finally stop pretending that we are fine and start saying the things we were never taught to say.

Kaajal Vaghela is a wellness entrepreneur, sportswear designer, and diabetes health consultant with over three decades of lived experience managing Type 1 diabetes. Having previously served as Chairperson of the Lusaka branch of the Diabetes Association of Zambia, she remains a passionate advocate for breaking down myths and building awareness about diabetes. For more personalised coaching or corporate wellness workshops, visit: www.kaajalvaghela.com and for any feedback: [email protected])