Nigeria’s tale of the coronavirus pandemic

Mixed reactions trailed the February 28 announcement from the Nigeria Centre for Disease Control (NCDC) that the first case of the coronavirus in the country had been confirmed.  On the one hand, there were those who believed strict measures were not in place at the entry terminals in the country with some even suggesting that airport authorities could have compromised and let the index case in, even when the symptoms were noticeable.

Officials have countered this suggestion, claiming that the index case showed no symptoms at the point of entry and only reported feeling unwell two days after returning to the country.  On the other hand, some Nigerians expressed optimism that the coronavirus would be contained in the same manner the Ebola outbreak was. Clerics declared that people were to be steadfast in their faiths and count on God to lead the nation through “these dark times”, while still casting doubt on the reality of the outbreak in the country.

But while the rest of the world was steeply focused on battling the novel virus, most Nigerians had no inkling that the battle for survival would be waged on two fronts.

Within 4 weeks of the initial announcement, the number of cases in the country surged to over a hundred with Lagos and Abuja accounting for the vast majority of reported cases. The government responded by imposing total lockdowns in the two cities in a bid to contain the spread of the virus, although it allowed local markets to open every few days for people to procure “essential items”.

The NCDC launched a huge media campaign to sensitize Nigerians, especially those in rural areas, on how to protect themselves against the coronavirus. Most Nigerians were shocked, however, to discover that months after the outbreak was reported in China, construction of isolation centres were still underway. Perhaps, the government did not expect the disease to come in to the country; therefore, time that could have been spent ramping up the country`s medical infrastructure and securing critical medical supplies were wasted on wishful thinking.

The president of the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) painted an even darker picture when, on the 26th of March, he warned that Nigeria`s health infrastructure would be overwhelmed in the event of a large outbreak in the country, an epidemic. He cited years of government neglect of the health sector as being responsible for the current state of affairs while expressing hope that some medical doctors who had embarked on an indefinite strike would resume in the interest of ordinary citizens.

But not all Nigerians panicked at this stage of the outbreak. The virus continued to be downplayed in several quarters as several individuals questioned the authenticity of the government`s reports on confirmed cases and deaths. It seemed most people were more concerned about the impact of the lockdowns on businesses, especially when the price of food and other basic items began to surge.

However, as the number of confirmed cases rose in more states, the question was no longer on whether the outbreak was a hoax. Rather, it was if Nigerians would be able to survive weeks or even months of extended lockdowns.  Many who believed the coronavirus outbreak could be contained quite as easily and quickly as that of Ebola began to rethink as data from global health institutions showed that compared to Ebola, the coronavirus was more transmissible even though it had a lower mortality rate. Regardless, the country needed to brace up for the challenge it could face protecting millions from the scourge of the disease.

Little was said on how the country planned to obtain millions of test kits, personal protective equipment, ventilators, and a host of other critical supplies. At that time, It was common knowledge that countries like the United States and the UK had struggled in the first few weeks to ramp up production of critical medical equipment and safety gears to meet local demand. Perhaps, the government hoped that just as it was with Ebola, western countries and China would donate medical equipment and staff to help combat the virus.

Nigerians were, however, highly disappointed when, on the 31st of March, the Federal Ministry of Finance and Budget appealed to an American business man, Elon Musk, for at least a hundred ventilators. Musk had announced on social media that he was going to ship “extra” ventilators to any country in dire need. Many wondered why an open plea by the government to a private citizen of a foreign country became necessary, since billions had already been donated by individuals and private organizations within the country. The government quickly deleted the post shortly after but without giving any detailed explanation to citizens on what steps it would take from then on in procuring much needed medical supplies.

Despite the apparent lack of plans to cater to its citizens in the face of an epidemic, the government brutally enforced the lockdowns. The first sign of trouble, however, came when reports of fatal shootings by security operatives surfaced.

In Delta state, it was reported that security operatives who were enforcing the stay-at-home-order of the governor had shot and killed a 28-year-old unarmed man who was accused of violating the order and refusing to stop when flagged down. The exact circumstance of the shooting remains unclear but opinions are hardly divided on the fact that the fatal shooting occurred before any coronavirus-related death was reported in the state. It is also difficult to tell if a detailed investigation would be launched into the case as demanded by the state government and if justice might be served should there be an indictment.

In any case, Nigerians were not necessarily shocked by the increasing reports of fatal police shootings as security operatives viciously enforced the coronavirus lockdowns.  After all, incidents of intimidation, harassment, and killing of presumably innocent civilians by security agents were quite common in this part of the world. So, there was hardly any surprise that most people were more focused on how much relief the government could provide to those stuck in their homes and at the brink of starvation.

The news that basic food items were to be distributed in “poor “areas in Lagos and other states under complete lockdown was initially met with skepticism. The government, however, appeared to have lived up to its promise when shortly after the announcement, hundreds of men, women, and children were seen scrambling for loaves of bread, rice, and noodles.

One question most people asked after the initial distribution was whether the government could sustain the scheme throughout the pandemic. Others were quite shocked that beneficiaries, as well as some government officials, did not put on any protective equipment like face masks nor did they observe social distancing during the distribution. More politically inclined groups wondered whether the relief efforts could be hijacked by politicians and bureaucrats as is often the case with government welfare programs in the country.

The government`s efforts, however, went beyond food distribution. The Federal Ministry of Humanitarian Affairs, Disaster Management, and Social Development had also announced there would be conditional cash transfers to families registered in the National Social Register of Poor and Vulnerable Households that was established in 2016, four years before the pandemic broke out. But artisans, for instance, who were likely not captured on the list and could not earn as a result of the strict coronavirus lockdowns were indirectly omitted from this aid. The government seemed to realize this as the human affairs minister went on to state that those in that category could still be catered for.

However, several months passed and very little was heard concerning the relief programs. Had the government managed to reach out to all the poor and vulnerable without drawing attention from the media? What happened the tons of food and cash donated by private entities? These questions hung in the air like a putrid smoke. Clues were, nevertheless, soon to emerge.

Meanwhile, reports of police brutality had resurfaced and this time there was public outcry. Perhaps, young Nigerians realized that corruption and impunity were much bigger threats to the country than the virus ravaging the world. Unlike the corona virus reported to have infected a few thousand, some believed corruption had infected every facet of Nigeria, infecting both the young and old, rich and poor, and male and female alike.

In the days that followed, large crowds of peaceful demonstrators took to the streets to call for an end to police brutality and bad governance. Young Nigerians had decided to confront the “virus” that had done much more in shattering the economy and plunging millions into poverty, literarily destroying lives. No matter how long the coronavirus lingered, its overall impact would surely pale in comparison with that of government corruption.

The government was quick to respond. It announced that the Special Anti-Robbery Unit Squad (SARS) that was accused of gross human right violations and extrajudicial killings had been disbanded. It even pledged to establish “judicial committees” across the states to investigate the reports. These kind of promises, however, ought to be taken with a grain of salt, especially when in a matter of hours there were frightening reports of soldiers shooting at peaceful demonstrators at the Lekki toll gate in Lagos.

Footage reportedly taken by eye witnesses the night of the shooting were rife on social media and appeared to show the soldiers opening fire on demonstrators who had defied the curfew. The footage showed many of the protesters seated and waving the Nigerian flag when the lights suddenly went out, after which sporadic gunshots and chilling screams could be heard. Later, reports from Amnesty International and other media outlets placed the number of people killed at 12. Despite the outrage that followed, there was no official comment from the military on the incident, and the president subsequently ignored the reports of the incident in his address to the nation.

Protests that had all the while been peaceful quickly turned violent. Rage mobs poured into the streets and wreaked unimaginable havoc. Stores were looted, business premises ransacked, police stations set ablaze: utter chaos.

Security operatives clamped down on the rioters who were no longer distinguishable from peaceful demonstrators.  Before long, rumors filtered in that some government officials hired thugs to disrupt the protest so it could lose credibility and more importantly, public sympathy. It was also suggested that the thugs could have been hired to precipitate violence which could help justify any brutal move the government could make in dispersing the protesters. That footage of thugs hopping into what seemed like government vehicles surfaced did not help in dispelling the rumors.

The protests soon took a dramatic turn when rioters began “stumbling” into government warehouses filled with branded relief items that were supposedly distributed months earlier.  The manner in which the location of such warehouses in different states of the country kept popping up could hardly be considered coincidental. The backlash that followed meant that the government clearly needed to give an explanation.

In defense, some state governments claimed that the said items were being stored for distribution during a possible second wave of the pandemic. But it begs the question why they were being stored for the “second wave” if thousands of starving households had not obtained any form of relief since the outbreak?

To further discredit such explanations, one of the daughters of the president quickly took to social media to blame state governments for apparently hoarding the items. And, as if it could not get any worse, rioters discovered some of the branded food items in the house of an official. The official in question claimed he had planned to distribute the items during his birthday celebration. It did not help matters that his birthday had already passed while the palliatives were still tucked away inside his home. For most Nigerians, it was reasonable to assume the items were meant to be diverted as soon as the dust from the pandemic had settled. Such conclusion might not be far from the truth in a country where branded relief items from both local and international donors regularly end up in the market. In any case, the government rallied security operatives to brutally secure the warehouses that had not been looted.

It seems that while the rest of the world chases the holy grail of a coronavirus vaccine, Nigerians might be better off searching for an antidote to corruption.