Nigeria – Another Epidemic of Cholera

It is disheartening to imagine that in the 21st century, Nigeria cannot save her citizens from a disease as preventable

Recent figures from the Federal Ministry of Health indicate that the death toll from the most recent cholera epidemic to hit Nigeria has risen to 350.

The numbers are still rising, and the ministry has warned that “the entire country is at risk.” This latest epidemic has hit at least eleven states, most of them in Northern Nigeria.

In August 2009, a similar epidemic broke out in Adamawa, Borno, Taraba and Jigawa states, claiming hundreds of lives.

Only a month ago, a Reuters’ news report said that 77 persons had died from cholera in Northern Cameroon, since the beginning of June.

Reuters quoted an unnamed official of the Red Cross as saying, back then: “There is the fear that if nothing is done urgently, the epidemic might expand rapidly with uncalculated consequences in Cameroon and neighbouring countries like Nigeria and Chad.” Now it is clear that those fears were not unfounded. The ticking time-bomb has exploded in Nigeria, and there is an understandable level of panic in the land.

It is disheartening to imagine that in the 21st century, Nigeria, with all the billions of dollars from oil at her disposal, cannot save her citizens from a disease as preventable as cholera.

In November 2009, barely a year ago, this paper lamented as much in an editorial.

“It is lamentable that despite the huge sums of money allocated by our government for water supply to every part of the country, many of our citizens still have to die due to lack of potable water. The question then is: where does all the money go?” we said.

One year later that question still hangs accusingly over the land. Where indeed does all the money go? Where do all the promises by the government go?

Why are we saddled with a government that can only react to tragedy, but will not do anything to prevent it from happening in the first place? Following every outbreak of cholera – a scenario which has now become a fixture on the calendar, such that it would not be out of place if some state governments included “provision for cholera” in the recurrent expenditure sections of their annual budgets – governments fall over themselves to announce emergency measures.

Huge sums of money are released, isolation camps created, press conferences set up, assurances dispensed with reckless abandon.

A short while later, everything is packed up, the government returns to its standard state of slumber, to await the next epidemic.

And cholera is not the only epidemic to regularly hit Nigeria – the Northern part especially.

Meningitis and measles are regulars as well.

While the country succumbs to the menace of cholera, our state governors appear more concerned with asserting their powers as stakeholders in the politicking and horse-trading gaining ground in the build-up to 2011.

When the Governors of the worst hit areas – Northern Nigeria – gather under the aegis of the Northern Governors’ Forum, it is not to deliberate on the persistent threat posed by cholera, it is to make silly declarations about “zoning.” What of the local government authorities, whose primary duties it should be to ensure the availability of potable water in communities, as well as that citizens are adequately enlightened regarding the importance of personal hygiene, since cholera is caused by the ingestion of food and water contaminated with bacteria. We have come to the conclusion that our local government authorities might as well not exist; such is the extent of their abdication of governance that there is no point even bothering to censure them. They are in most cases no more than huge drain-pipes on the nation’s resources. Indeed, it may be argued that the billions currently wasted on them would be better spent shared in cash to the citizenry.

The health authorities have already wasted no time in telling us what we already know: that this latest epidemic should be blamed on contaminated water and a disregard for personal hygiene. But what Nigerians, and presumably the world at large, would like to know is this: While other countries struggle — and learn to cope — with unavoidable natural disasters, like hurricanes and flooding, why does Nigeria maintain its penchant for creating and perpetuating avoidable ones?