Stories, Silence, and the Community That Grew Between Them

Twayne Safe Haven Dynamite Meetup, Lagos, Nigeria (2020)

In a city that rarely slows down, it’s easy to move through life smiling, working, and functioning while carrying things no one else can hear. Lagos teaches you how to keep going, even when something inside you feels heavy and unnamed.

As a teenager, I struggled with my mental health in ways I didn’t fully understand or know how to explain. I didn’t have access to therapy, and I didn’t know who to talk to. Most days, I carried everything quietly, trying to make sense of thoughts and emotions that felt heavier than I could name.

Writing became the one place I could be honest.
So I began to write.

Twayne Safe Haven Dynamite Meetup, Lagos, Nigeria (2020)

On those pages, I didn’t have to pretend I was fine. I could sit with what I was feeling when I couldn’t say it out loud. When I eventually began to share some of those writings online, something unexpected happened. Other young people responded. They saw themselves in the stories. Many of them were carrying the same quiet weight and had never found the words for it either.

By 2015, those exchanges had grown beyond writing. They had become sustained conversations, shared reflections among young people searching for understanding and belonging. I initiated those conversations. I am Samuel, known to most as Sammie, and what began as a personal act of writing gradually evolved into the founding of Twayne Safe Haven.

It didn’t start as an organization or a structured project. It started as a response to a shared need, the need for belonging. A small group of us realized we were tired of performing “strength.” We gathered around the simple act of listening. We didn’t have a fancy office or a manifesto. We had stories.

Over time, Twayne grew into a small, intentional community where people could tell their stories without fear of judgment, where listening mattered as much as speaking, and where no one had to explain why they were struggling in order to be welcomed. We’ve remained close-knit by design. Spaces like this depend on trust, safety, and good intentions, so we chose depth over noise. We stayed small. We stayed human.

Twayne Safe Haven Dynamite Meetup, Lagos, Nigeria (2020)

Within that circle, something meaningful happened.

We talked. We listened. We checked in on one another. We supported people through difficult seasons, sometimes through deep conversations, sometimes through laughter, and sometimes simply through presence. What mattered most was knowing that someone else was there.

In Nigeria, conversations around mental health are still difficult. Silence is often mistaken for strength, and emotional struggles are sometimes misunderstood, dismissed, or spiritualized. Access to professional support is limited, and poverty makes care feel like a luxury many cannot afford. As a result, many young people suffer quietly.

Twayne Safe Haven Dynamite Meetup, Lagos, Nigeria (2020)

At Twayne Safe Haven, we don’t claim to fix the complexities of the human mind or replace professional care. What we offer is a safe space, language to describe pain, and a community that acknowledges it without judgment. We believe shared humanity can be a powerful first step toward healing.

Today, we are at a turning point. The pressures facing young people in Nigeria are increasing, and the need for spaces like this is growing. As we look ahead, our hope is to reach more people carefully and intentionally, while protecting the trust and values that have sustained this community for over a decade.

This work has shaped who I am and continues to remind me of the quiet power of people showing up for one another.

If this story resonates with you, I invite you to sit with us, to listen, or perhaps to share your own story. There is no pressure to be anything other than who you are. Sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is simply acknowledge that we are not alone.