IN A society where masculinity often equates to silence, breast cancer lurks like a hidden enemy among Zimbabwean men.
This often-overlooked disease, which affects a small yet significant number of men, remains shrouded in stigma and ignorance. As the world observes Breast Cancer Awareness Month this October, the urgency to confront this silent epidemic has never been greater.
While breast cancer is predominantly viewed as a women’s disease, the reality in Zimbabwe is striking, men face a one in 833 lifetime risk of developing the disease. The lack of awareness and cultural stigma leads to late diagnoses and poor outcomes, making education and early detection critical for survival. Kevin Sibanda, a 65-year-old resident of Mabelreign in Harare, embodies the silent struggle that many men face. What began as a seemingly innocuous pimple on his chest turned into a life-altering diagnosis.
“I was in South Africa in July 2015, working at a commercial bank when I first noticed the spot beneath my left nipple,” he recalls. Initially dismissing it with over-the-counter creams, he returned to Zimbabwe, where a mammogram revealed the grim truth, male breast cancer.
“The doctor’s words made my blood run cold. She asked, ‘Do you have a strong support structure?’” Sibanda’s journey was just beginning. The lump was aggressive, requiring an urgent mastectomy on August 1, 2015. “Breaking the news to my family was hard. I tried to reassure my sons, but I was terrified,” he admits. Sibanda underwent 16 sessions of chemotherapy, struggling with the debilitating side effects. “Chemo was hell.
Everything tasted metallic, and I felt like I was in a fog. “All I could concentrate on was surviving,” he recalls. Despite these challenges, he found solace in a support group and became the chairperson of his local group, dedicated to raising awareness. Sibanda’s story reflects a broader issue in Zimbabwe. According to Lovemore Makurirofa, the information, research and evaluation officer for the Cancer Association of Zimbabwe, “risk factors include age, family history, and race”.
The cultural stigma surrounding male breast cancer often deters men from seeking help. “Many believe it’s a woman’s disease. “I was even called ‘half a woman,’” Sibanda recounts, highlighting the discrimination that accompanies the diagnosis. Talk Cancer Zimbabwe founder and president, Michelle Madzudzo, says: “Because breast cancer in men is so rare, a man might ignore any symptoms and postpone seeing his general practitioner or visit a health facility.
“In some cases, this may mean that the cancer is already at an advanced stage when it’s diagnosed.” Economic barriers further complicate matters. High healthcare costs and limited access to specialised services often delay crucial diagnosis and treatment.
In response, various stakeholders, including government agencies and non-governmental organisations (NGOs), are working to raise awareness and improve access to screenings. Organisations like Padare are at the forefront of these initiatives. “We conduct community dialogues to encourage men to prioritise their health,” says Walter Vengesai, Padare’s director.
The organisation also addresses mental health stigma, providing counselling and referrals. As October unfolds, so do the calls for increased awareness. Cimas Health Group chief executive officer, Vuli Ndlovu, has urged men to undergo regular screenings. “Breast cancer remains a significant health challenge, but early detection can save lives,” he says.
Globally, breast cancer accounts for around 2,3 million new cases annually. In Zimbabwe, however, the survival rate for men diagnosed with breast cancer remains shockingly low, with less than seven percent surviving if diagnosed late. The experience of Douglas Muroyiwa, from Mufakose in Harare, echoes Sibanda’s sentiments. “When I was first diagnosed, I was terrified.
“But with family support and proper treatment, I beat the disease,” he says. As the world marks Breast Cancer Awareness Month, it is essential to dismantle the stigma surrounding male breast cancer. The fight against this silent epidemic requires collective effort. As Sibanda says: “Every year, I celebrate two birthdays, my actual birthday and the date I was diagnosed. “That’s my birthday. I was given a second chance.” — New Ziana