“Prevention is better than cure,” they say. But what happens when prevention is no longer enough, when we have crossed that line and are left face to face with the painful reality of a disease that has stolen too many dreams and dimmed too many bright futures?
For decades, sickle cell disease has sat quietly on the back burner of Africa’s public health agenda, a silent pandemic that has claimed lives in the shadows while the world’s attention stayed fixed on HIV, malaria, and other global diseases. Those are important, yes, but sickle cell is different. It is an African pandemic, one that has not yet received the attention or investment it urgently deserves.
Every year in Nigeria alone, about 150,000 babies are born with sickle cell disease, and nearly a quarter of them will not live to see their fifth birthday. These are not just statistics. They are children with names, laughter, and potential. They are families navigating pain and poverty, often without access to adequate care or hope of a cure.
That is why the Bill for the Establishment of Sickle Cell Disorder Research and Therapy Centres, sponsored by Senator Sunday Marshall Katung, is more than just policy. It is an act of compassion. It is a moral response to a crisis that has lingered too long in silence.
This bill could not be more timely. Senator Katun,g by pushing this conversation to the front burne,r has reminded the nation that the lives of those born with sickle cell are no less valuable, no less urgent, than those battling malaria or HIV. With the bill now past its second reading, one cannot help but hope that it moves swiftly into law, and more importantly, into action.
If this bill comes to pass, it will give hope to those who are already beyond prevention, those for whom awareness alone is not enough. It will create centres of excellence across the country, where research and therapy meet compassion and care. It will train doctors, nurses, and genetic counsellors who can diagnose early, treat effectively, and stand beside families in their journey of survival. It will ensure inclusion in health insurance, making treatment affordable for ordinary Nigerians. It will protect patients from stigma, provide data for research, and open the door for global partnerships that can hasten the search for a cure.
During the Senate debate, Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan made a practical contribution, suggesting that teaching hospitals across all geopolitical zones should host these sickle cell centres. Her proposal is both strategic and cost-effective. By leveraging existing hospital infrastructure, the government can cut costs significantly, accelerate implementation, and ensure that specialised care becomes accessible to every region of the country.
We must remember that sickle cell is not a Western disease. It does not draw the attention of global pharmaceutical giants because it largely affects Africans and people of African descent. In truth, it is a racialized disease, one whose neglect exposes the silent inequities in global health priorities.
So, will this bill be passed? Will Nigeria lead the charge in finding lasting solutions, perhaps even a cure, for a disease that has cost us so much in productivity, in lives, and in human potential? The answer must be yes. It is time to take the bull by the horns and handle this business ourselves.
Sickle cell is not just a health issue. It is an economic, social, and moral one. Every life saved is a dream preserved. Every child given a chance to live beyond pain is a victory for humanity.
The bill reminds us that compassion and courage are still alive in our politics. It calls us to act, not tomorrow, not someday, but now. Because for those living with sickle cell, every delay costs a life.
Let us pass this bill, fund it, and follow through with the urgency it deserves. Let us build a Nigeri, and an Afric, where being born with sickle cell is no longer a death sentence, but a story of survival and hope.
–Akut, from Abuja, writes via [email protected]
