Vitiligo came into my life in 2004, quietly at first. Small depigmented spots appeared on my hand, chest, and forehead. At that time, I didn’t know the name for it. I just knew my skin was changing, and I was scared. After a year of taking Vitamin A and selenium supplements, the patches faded and disappeared. I thought that was the end of the story. I was wrong.
The condition returned after I completed my Master’s in the UK, in November 2011. This time it was bolder and less forgiving. The spots spread across my neck, knees, chest, hands, lips, and legs. What started as small marks became a map across my body. That was the moment vitiligo stopped being a skin issue and became a life issue.
Since 2011, I have seen dermatologists in multiple hospitals across Nigeria, the UK, and India. My late mother, my father, and my elder brother, who is a medical doctor, all walked that path with me. I’m grateful for their support, especially my mother, who is no longer here. Each hospital visit came with new creams, new theories, new hope… and sometimes new disappointment. Vitiligo does not have one cure, and learning that was its own kind of grief.
I have tried many approaches over the years. Homoeopathic medicine worked slowly, but it helped reduce the spreading. Black seed oil became part of my routine and led to some improvement. I also used UV light therapy. It is harsh – it burns the skin and can leave scars, but later the skin changes colour, and some repigmentation happens. It’s a painful trade-off, but I was desperate for control.
I made lifestyle changes too. I stopped consuming seafood and fruits high in ascorbic acid/vitamin C, based on advice I received. I also tried a series of traditional herbs. They require patience and consistency, and honestly, faith. Through all of it, my darling wife stood by my side. She never looked at me differently. That kind of love makes the hardest days lighter.
Through all of it, my darling wife stood by my side. She never looked at me differently.
Vitiligo is not just about skin. It is about confidence, identity, and public perception. It occasionally makes me lose confidence. The stares, the questions, the comments from the public are exhausting. At the workplace, at my place of worship, in markets – people ask. Kids sometimes see me as scary. Explaining myself over and over gets tiring. There are days I’m just tired of being a “lesson” for everyone else.
Inside, I fight with myself. I have to accept my faith and remind myself that this is part of my test. I have a family to support and provide for. My kids are growing now, and they’re worried about it too. I pray they grow up to normalise it, to see their father beyond the patches. I want them to understand that skin colour does not change character, strength, or love.
Vitiligo taught me patience when I wanted quick fixes. It taught me resilience when people stared. It taught me gratitude for the few people – my wife, my late mother, my father, my brother – who saw me and not just my skin.
I still don’t have all the answers. The patches are still here. But I am still here too. I stand, I work, I love, I provide. Vitiligo is part of my story, but it is not my whole story.
If you’re reading this and you have vitiligo, you are not scary, you are not less, and you are not alone. The journey is long, but faith, family, and self-acceptance will carry you.
As narrated by: Musa* (Northern Region, Nigeria).
This snippet is published as part of the series, The Complex Reality of Vitiligo.
Discover more from Chronycles
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Published by