Health

By Sabiu Abdullahi

The AIDS Healthcare Foundation (AHF) has urged federal and state governments to adopt and fund the Girls Act model to reduce HIV infections among adolescent girls and young women, citing poverty, school dropout and limited access to information as factors that increase their vulnerability.

The advocacy group made the call on Tuesday during activities to mark the International Day of the Girl Child in Abuja.

AHF said although progress had been made in the global fight against HIV/AIDS, adolescent girls and young women continued to face a disproportionate risk of infection, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa.

Steve Aborisade, AHF’s Advocacy Lead, cited data from the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS), which indicate that women account for more than half of people living with HIV globally and about 60 per cent in sub-Saharan Africa.

The data also show that adolescent girls and young women aged 15 to 24 are up to two to three times more likely to acquire HIV than males in the same age group.

“Adolescent girls and young women aged 15 to 24 years are up to two to three times more likely to acquire HIV than young males of the same age.

“Biologically, women face a roughly two-fold higher acquisition risk per unprotected heterosexual act due to a larger mucosal surface area and longer exposure to seminal fluids.”

The report further highlighted challenges that prevent adolescents from accessing HIV testing, including physiological, psychological, legal and social barriers.

“Adolescents aged 10 to 19 years face distinct physiological, psychological, legal and social factors that make them disproportionately vulnerable to low uptake of HIV testing,” the data indicated.

AHF said gender inequality, poverty and inadequate information often restrict girls’ ability to make decisions about their health and personal lives.

“A girl who cannot afford menstrual products, who has dropped out of school, or who depends on others for money, has fewer options, including options about sex. HIV and other sexually transmitted infections (STIs) thrive in exactly those conditions,” AHF said.

Girls Act Targets Health, Education And Leadership

The organisation said its Girls Act programme seeks to prevent HIV and sexually transmitted infections, support girls living with HIV to remain on treatment, reduce unplanned pregnancies and help girls stay in school.

According to AHF, the initiative had more than 4,500 girls actively participating as of 2026.

The programme operates across four areas: health, education and livelihoods, leadership, and results.

Under its health component, girls living with HIV receive support to remain on treatment, while HIV-negative participants learn how to prevent infection and make informed decisions.

The programme also provides free menstrual health products to girls and surrounding communities. It teaches participants to make and maintain reusable sanitary pads to improve access beyond direct supplies.

On education and livelihoods, AHF said the programme supports girls who wish to return to school and provides life-skills training and business support to those who have dropped out.

Its leadership component creates opportunities for mentorship, advocacy and access to resources to enable girls to take active roles in their communities.

“Girls are turning up empowered, able to negotiate safe sex and exercise bodily autonomy.

“Negotiating safe sex is the difference between exposure and protection, and bodily autonomy is not a slogan but a public health asset.”

AHF Seeks Government Funding

AHF called on federal and state governments to incorporate the Girls Act model into HIV, education and youth development plans, with dedicated funding for its activities.

The group said the funding should cover menstrual health products, skills training and start-up support for out-of-school girls, assistance for girls returning to school, leadership opportunities and stronger links to HIV testing, treatment and care.

“This means dedicated budget lines for menstrual health, so no girl misses school for want of a sanitary pad; skills training and start-up support that reach out-of-school girls where they live; support for girls to return to, and stay in, school; leadership platforms for girls in schools and communities; and clear pathways linking young people to HIV testing, treatment and care,” the advocacy group said.

The organisation also urged stakeholders in the national HIV response to give greater attention to the needs of girls and young women.

“Some will say the country has more pressing priorities. They should weigh the cost of inaction: new infections among young people, lifelong treatment, interrupted schooling and lost productivity.

“Prevention that also builds livelihoods and leadership is among the smartest investments a government can make.

“Our girls have shown what is possible when someone invests in them. They have earned the right to be treated as a key population in the national response, not as an afterthought.”

By Uzair Adam 

The Nigerian Forest Security Service (NFSS), Kano State Command, has deployed personnel to Garko Local Government Area to track and contain dogs suspected of carrying rabies after one dog reportedly attacked and bit 18 people in the area.

The State Commander, Abdullahi Al’ameen, disclosed this in a statement signed by the command’s Public Relations Officer, Usman Abdullahi-Umar, on Sunday in Kano.

Al’ameen said the command received a distress report at about 2 p.m. that a dog suspected to be rabid had attacked residents in Garko town.

According to him, the dog initially attacked and bit 11 people in Garko town before moving into neighbouring communities, where it attacked seven additional residents.

“The dog had so far bitten 11 persons in Garko town before moving to neighbouring communities, including Raba, Kadage, Gurjiya and Dausai,” he said.

The commander added that the command had received another report indicating that two more dogs were suspected to have contracted rabies in the area.

He said personnel from the NFSS Garko Division, led by the Divisional Forest Officer, Auwalu Muhammad, had been deployed to the affected communities to track and contain the suspected rabid dogs.

Al’ameen urged residents of Garko and neighbouring communities to remain vigilant and promptly report sightings of stray or suspected rabid dogs to the nearest NFSS office or other security agencies.

He also advised anyone bitten by a suspected rabid dog to seek immediate medical attention, stressing the importance of prompt treatment.

Al’ameen assured residents that the NFSS would continue to monitor the situation and take necessary measures to prevent further attacks.

By Ali Tijjani Hassan

There is a difference between a public health system that performs well on paper and one that performs well in people’s lives, and Yobe State is currently teaching us these differences in real time. For over ten days, reports of viral conjunctivitis (Apollo), as it is popularly called, have been spreading across parts of the state. Yet the silence from official quarters has been almost as consistent as the outbreak itself. No public advisory. No visible coordination. No reassurance that anyone in authority is even watching. And silence, in public health, is never neutral. It either means nothing is happening, or it means something is happening and no one has thought to tell the people living through it. Neither of these answers is acceptable. Considering the communicable nature of this outbreak, it is essentially as contagious as yawning. The system should work, and the response should be in place.

I say this, not out of pessimism, because pessimism is cheap and the outbreak deserves better than cheap reactions. Yobe is not a state without human resource capacity. We have a significant number of epidemiologists and precision medicine experts. We have disease surveillance officers, laboratory scientists, environmental health officers, and public health professionals—a full formation of expertise that many states would envy. So, the question is not whether we have the people. The question is whether the system built around those people is actually working, or has quietly become one optimised for reporting rather than responding. Because here is an uncomfortable truth: a health system can hit every donor indicator, produce every glossy report, receive every award, and still fail the basic test of protecting the community it exists to serve. KPIs are not the same as outcomes. A dashboard is not the same as a warned public. You can be commended internationally and still be invisible locally, and that gap between what is reported upward and what is felt on the ground is where public trust quietly erodes.

What sharpens this concern is that we are not operating in isolation. This outbreak is not affecting only Yobe State; it’s spread across northeastern states. Take Adamawa State as an example: it’s currently responding to a similar outbreak of viral conjunctivitis. They already declared a pandemic and activated warning and response systems since the 7th of August, 2026. Coincidentally, Bauchi State is experiencing a cholera outbreak; the state government has been activating its cholera response system since the 1st of August, 2026. These are not distant or hypothetical benchmarks; they are neighbours, operating under comparable constraints, demonstrating that a coordinated response is possible when the will and the system align. So if they can move, what exactly is holding us back?

Is it a failure of surveillance itself, or a failure to verify what surveillance already picked up? Is it risk assessment sitting somewhere in a queue? Is it plain bureaucratic inertia, the kind where information exists but no one owns the decision to act on it? Or is it something more troubling: a culture where we wait for numbers to become undeniable before we treat them as urgent?

I raise these questions not to indict anyone by name, but because public health, by its very design, is supposed to be anticipatory. Its entire justification is that it acts before catastrophe forces it to. A surveillance system that produces reports without triggering timely action has collected data successfully but has failed in its actual purpose. And there is something quietly troubling about a community that learns of a potential outbreak through word of mouth before it hears a single word from the institutions constitutionally responsible for its well-being. That is not just a communication gap. It is a trust gap, and trust, once eroded in public health, is far harder to rebuild than any epidemic curve.

The remedy is not complicated. If there is no outbreak, say so clearly and to everyone, not just to donors. If there is one, say so. If an investigation is currently in progress, please communicate that clearly. If interventions have begun, say so. None of this requires perfect information. It requires the basic respect of keeping people informed while the work is being done. Because silence is not surveillance, and a response no one can see is barely a response at all. The people of Yobe do not need another award ceremony. They need a system that notices early, speaks plainly, and moves before the numbers force its hand. In the end, the truest measure of a public health system was never going to be what it reports about itself. It is what the people living inside it actually experience.

Ali Tijjani Hassan is a public health professional who writes from his personal quarantine after being infected with the Apollo.

By Oladoja M.O

I won’t even sugar coat. There really is a quiet arithmetic we seem to forget whenever we speak about financing health, and that is; “money not spent is money saved”. It sounds almost too simple to be taken seriously in policy circles, yet it is perhaps a foundational principle of any sustainable system, economic or otherwise.

In recent years, the conversation around health financing has become so popular yet increasingly narrow, that whenever it’s being discussed, the theme of bigger budgets, expanded insurance schemes, increased donor flows, and new funding mechanisms is the only thing in lens. Though all of these are unarguably important, they are only one side of the equation, as financing health is not merely about how much money enters the system, but also about how much unnecessary expenditure we can prevent from ever occurring. And this is where preventive health quietly stands as one of the most underutilized financing strategies.

Often preached, prevention is prevalently taken as some moral or clinical responsibility, something good to do for public health, but not worth framing as a fiscal strategy. Yet, at its core, prevention is economic discipline. 

I don’t think it should be difficult to interpret that a well-prevented illness is not just a life improved; it is a cost avoided, a drug regimen that was never needed, and in many cases, a financial burden that never fell on a household.

In a country where out-of-pocket expenditure still defines access to care for many citizens, this distinction matters deeply. Because when people stay healthier for longer, they spend less on treatment. When communities adopt preventive behaviors, the strain on health facilities reduces. When systems prioritize early detection and risk reduction, the cost curve bends—not because we spent more, but because we needed to spend less.

This is not an argument against mobilizing more funds for health. On the contrary, it is a call to think more intelligently about what “financing health” truly means. Generating revenue is one part. Structuring systems efficiently is another. And, crucially, reducing avoidable expenditure must sit at the center of that conversation.

Interestingly, this broader view aligns with deeper conversations around governance and federal structure. True federalism, as many have argued, is not just about distributing resources but about enabling systems to function efficiently at all levels. The recent legislative developments in that direction are, for once, a step that deserves cautious commendation. It suggests that perhaps we are beginning to think beyond surface-level reforms and towards more grounded, structural solutions.

But policy frameworks alone will not carry this shift. Preventive health requires something more subtle: a cultural and systemic reorientation. It asks us to value the absence of disease as much as the treatment of it. It asks governments to invest in awareness, early screening, community-based interventions, and primary care, not as afterthoughts, but as core financing strategies.

It also demands that we confront an uncomfortable truth that reactive healthcare is expensive. A system that waits for illness to occur before acting will always spend more than one that works to prevent it. Hospitals will remain congested, costs will continue to rise, and households will keep absorbing financial shocks that could have been avoided.

On the other hand, a preventive-focused system redistributes that burden, spreading cost-saving across individuals, communities, and institutions. It is quieter, less dramatic, and often less politically celebrated, but far more sustainable.

A bit further to that is the human dimension that cannot be ignored. Financial protection in health should not just be about insurance coverage or subsidies; it is about reducing the likelihood that people will need to spend in the first place. Every avoided illness is, in a real sense, a preserved livelihood.

So, perhaps it is time we expanded our definition of health financing. Beyond budgets and allocations, beyond policies and programs, we must begin to recognize prevention as a financial instrument in its own right.

Because in the end, the most efficient health system is not the one that spends the most, but the one that needs to spend the least.

And that is an arithmetic we can no longer afford to ignore.

Oladoja M.O (Oladoja Mark Olamilekan) writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com.

By Dahiru Kasimu Adamu

As part of its sustained commitment to reducing the high prevalence of Moderate Acute Malnutrition (MAM) in Sokoto State, the Nigerian Red Cross Society (NRCS), Sokoto State Branch, through the Malnutrition Emergency Appeal Programme (MEAP), continues to implement life-saving interventions across Sokoto North, Sokoto South, and Wamakko Divisions.

In a two-day intensive house-to-house screening exercise, trained volunteers used MUAC (Mid-Upper Arm Circumference) tapes to assess children aged 6–59 months and identify cases of malnutrition. 

According to the Sokoto State Branch Communication and PMER Officer, Yahaya Ishaq, “This proactive approach ensures early detection and timely intervention for vulnerable children within the targeted communities.”

Following the screening, identified MAM cases were enrolled for support and provided with “Tom Brown,” a locally produced, nutrient-rich supplementary food designed to improve the nutritional status of affected children. Caregivers were also guided on proper preparation and feeding practices to maximise its benefits.

Beyond nutritional support, hygiene promotion remains a key component of the intervention. 

As part of this, the Red Cross engaged in Mothers’ Club meetings held across various communities where hygiene education sessions were conducted. Members were sensitised to safe hygiene practices, proper sanitation, and disease prevention. 

To further support improved household hygiene and reduce the risk of infections that can worsen malnutrition, hygiene kits were distributed to the most vulnerable caregivers.

The Nigerian Red Cross Society, Sokoto State Branch, says the integration of nutrition screening, supplementary feeding, and hygiene promotion demonstrates its holistic approach to addressing malnutrition and strengthening community resilience.

The Society reaffirmed its commitment to improving the health and well-being of vulnerable populations through community-based interventions, in line with its humanitarian mandate. It also emphasised that the active participation of community members, especially mothers and caregivers, continues to play a vital role in the programme’s success.

By Sabiu Abdullahi

Scientists at Umeå University in Sweden, in collaboration with partner institutions, have developed an experimental drug that could slow the growth of aggressive prostate cancer and stop it from spreading to other parts of the body.

The findings, which were published in the journal Signal Transduction and Targeted Therapy, suggest the treatment could provide a new option for tackling metastatic prostate cancer.

Maréne Landström, Professor of Pathology at the Department of Medical Biosciences, Umeå University, said the research team identified the biological processes responsible for cancer cell growth, invasion and metastasis.

“The new drug has been developed to prevent metastasis, and we are very pleased and proud that we have been able to identify the mechanisms that drive cancer cell growth, invasiveness, and metastatic spread,” Landström said.

Prostate cancer is among the most commonly diagnosed cancers in men. Although many cases progress slowly and remain non-life-threatening, some become highly aggressive and spread to organs such as the lymph nodes and bones.

To address this form of the disease, the researchers created a fully human antibody made entirely from human proteins. They said the design makes it suitable for further development as a therapeutic treatment.

According to the study, preclinical tests showed that the antibody stopped tumour growth and prevented the spread of an aggressive form of prostate cancer. The researchers added that the treatment works through a newly identified mechanism, which they believe could also reduce the likelihood of side effects.

Landström described the findings as encouraging but stressed that further studies and regulatory approvals are required before the treatment can be used in patients.

“This is a promising step forward, but several important stages remain before the treatment can benefit patients,” she said.

“We still need to conduct additional safety studies, and the treatment must be approved by regulatory authorities in Europe or the United States.”

She added that the project seeks to improve survival rates and the quality of life of people living with advanced prostate cancer. She also credited years of collaboration among researchers, organisations and funding partners for the progress achieved.

The research team plans to investigate whether the same treatment can be applied to other solid tumours.

“The next step is to investigate whether this treatment can also be used against other types of solid tumors,” Landström said.

“We hope that our work will ultimately contribute to the development of a new cancer drug that can benefit patients.”

The study involved experts from the SciLifeLab Drug Discovery and Development Platform, which contributed to the development of the antibody. Additional support came from the Umeå Biotech Incubator at Umeå University, while MetaCurUm Biotech AB funded the development and testing of the experimental treatment.

By Maimuna Katuka Aliyu

Trachoma is more than an eye infection. It is a quiet destroyer of sight and dignity, affecting millions of vulnerable people around the world—especially in places where clean water is scarce, healthcare is distant, and poverty runs deep.

Caused by the bacterium “Chlamydia trachomatis”, trachoma spreads through direct contact with infected eye or nose secretions, as well as indirectly through contaminated items. In overcrowded communities where basic sanitation is poor, the disease thrives.

But this is not a new threat. Trachoma has haunted humanity for centuries. As far back as 1500 BC, ancient Egyptian scrolls described eye diseases that closely resemble it. In the 19th century, outbreaks became widespread in densely populated areas.

By the 20th century, global efforts to fight it began taking shape, especially with the intervention of the World Health Organization (WHO) and other health bodies. Today, trachoma remains one of the world’s leading causes of preventable blindness.

And the burden it places on affected communities is staggering. For individuals, the disease often begins with repeated infections. Over time, the eyelids turn inward in a condition called trichiasis, causing the lashes to scrape against the cornea.

The result is chronic pain and, eventually, blindness. For families, the impact is just as devastating. When a parent loses their vision, their ability to work and care for their children suffers. When a child goes blind, their education is interrupted, and their future becomes uncertain.

Across entire communities, this loss of productivity and well-being adds up to high economic and social costs. The stigma can be equally painful. In many places, those affected by trachoma are isolated or ridiculed—stripped of confidence and dignity.

But there is hope. Trachoma is preventable. It is also treatable, especially when detected early. And that is why the role of government is so vital.

National and local authorities must lead the fight with robust public health campaigns—promoting hygiene, encouraging regular eye checkups, and ensuring that children grow up with clean faces and clean water.

Clinics must be established in underserved areas, and healthcare workers must be trained to identify and treat the disease effectively. Collaboration is also key. By partnering with international organizations such as the WHO and the Carter Center, governments can access resources, share knowledge, and scale up proven interventions.

Yet governments alone cannot eliminate trachoma. Communities must also rise to the task. We need individuals who speak up—advocating for improved sanitation, better access to care, and education for all.

We need families and neighbours who support those affected instead of shaming them. And we need young people who take the lead in hygiene campaigns, who believe that blindness from trachoma is one injustice we can—and must—end.

The fight against trachoma is a shared responsibility. It is not just about medicine. It is about dignity. It is about giving people the chance to see their children grow, to live and work with pride, and to be seen—not for their illness—but for their worth.

The path to eliminating trachoma is clear. What is needed now is the will to walk it together—governments, communities, and every one of us who believes in a future where no one loses their sight to a disease that should already be history.

By Rabi Ummi Umar

The Nigerian healthcare system is often dismissed because of the unenviable reputation it has built over decades of systemic failure. It is a common refrain across the country that citizens simply do not trust the medical institutions meant to save them.

For those who can afford it, the immediate solution to a serious diagnosis is to board a flight out of the country, seeking medical treatment abroad where systems are functional.

And for the rest of the population, walking into a local hospital is less an exercise in hope and more an act of desperate survival, frequently marred by anxiety about what might happen inside.

Personal encounters with our healthcare infrastructure often leave deep scars. I often find myself silently whispering, ‘I pray nobody has to experience this.’ Sadly, too many Nigerians have stories of facing decaying infrastructure, enduring the dismissive or outright rude attitudes of overworked nurses, or being left unattended in crowded corridors.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking reality is the ubiquitous ‘payment before service’ policy. In moments when a patient is actively battling for their life, a life that is irreplaceable, the administrative unit, or hospital policy, prioritises financial clearance over immediate clinical intervention.

This, in my opinion, is an ethical failure that leaves families helpless and hollows out the core purpose of medicine. It undermines the very principles of the Hippocratic Oath and the Nightingale Pledge that doctors and nurses take before practising.

This crisis of confidence in our healthcare system was perfectly articulated at a recent book unveiling I attended at the Yar’Adua Centre in the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja.

The book, Trust Renewal: The Integrity Call for Better Health for All, authored by Dr Abdullahi Jubril Mohammed, offers a resonant critique of our current trajectory. During the launch, he stated an earnest truth too often overlooked: health systems do not succeed merely because of advanced technology or concrete infrastructure. Instead, they succeed or fail along the patient’s path based on a single, invisible metric — trust.

When trust is absent, the entire system fractures. Even when medical facilities receive structural upgrades or well-funded international aid, these interventions fail to achieve their potential because the human connection between provider and patient has been broken.

Patients seek treatment abroad not just for better machines, but because they believe unsafe practices thrive in an environment devoid of accountability, and that the workers within that environment have grown numb to human suffering. To change this narrative, the Nigerian healthcare system must be consciously rebuilt on a foundation of ethical, accountable behaviour.

Renewing this trust requires a collaborative effort from policymakers, healthcare providers, civil society, and patients themselves. Medical institutions must actively promote transparency, especially concerning service delays, and prioritise patient feedback as a tool for institutional growth rather than dismissing it as mere complaining.

Practitioners need to understand that listening to a patient’s experience is just as vital as reading their clinical charts.

Building a better health system requires moving beyond physical structures and investing heavily in the integrity of the care provided. Only when patients feel safe, valued, and heard can we begin to heal the system itself.

Rabi Ummi Umar is a writer in Abuja, and she can be reached via rabiumar058@gmail.com.

By Maimuna Katuka Aliyu

Imagine your body as a bustling city, an intricate network of systems powered by one indispensable element—water. Think of waking groggy, with a mouth as parched as desert sand. You might blame a late night or too much caffeine, but often it is your body’s quiet alarm bell, warning that its most vital fuel is running low.

Just as electricity keeps a city alive, water is the current that powers every cell. When it runs short, it is like a blackout in a metropolis, order gives way to chaos, systems slow down, and the risk of breakdown multiplies.

Dehydration rarely storms in with fanfare. It slips in unnoticed, first a dry mouth, then a slight headache, then a fog that blurs your thoughts. Even mild dehydration can dull your memory, weaken your focus, and pull down productivity.

The brain, that grand conductor of your daily rhythm, begins to miss its cues. For students, it may mean struggling to concentrate; for adults, the risk of poor decisions at work grows sharper.

In a hydrated body, blood flows like a gentle river. But when water is scarce, blood thickens into sludge, forcing the heart to labour harder. Soon, dizziness, weakness, and muscle cramps follow.

The skin, often dismissed as just a covering, loses its glow and elasticity, while the kidneys, the body’s tireless custodians, send out distress signals in the form of dark urine.

Our fast-paced lives only sharpen this risk. Long days under the burning sun, intense workouts, endless travels without a sip of water, each chips away at the body’s reserves.

And here lies the irony: by the time you feel thirsty, you may already be dehydrated. That is why hydration is not just a habit; it is preventive care, the quiet maintenance that keeps the “city” of your body humming, your mind sharp, your heart steady, and your skin radiant.

The symptoms of dehydration must never be taken lightly. It may begin with thirst and fatigue, but left ignored, it can escalate into confusion, rapid heartbeat, or even life-threatening complications.                                                  

Kidney stones, urinary tract infections, and heatstroke are some of its harsh penalties. The body’s cry for water is one alarm you cannot afford to silence.

Water is the simplest cure, but sometimes the body demands more, electrolytes to restore balance, oral solutions to replenish salts, or, in severe cases, intravenous fluids under medical care.

Hydration is not merely about pouring in water; it is about restoring the delicate balance that sustains life. Yet in the rush of daily living, hydration often takes the back seat. We forget that this basic elixir is both personal and societal.

In regions where clean drinking water is scarce, dehydration becomes a public health emergency, threatening the young and elderly most. Governments are pressed to act, building infrastructure, ensuring access, and educating citizens.

The cost of neglect is staggering. Health systems already stretched thin must spend resources treating preventable conditions, diverting funds from education and wellness.

Economies pay the price as productivity falters and budgets strain. Hydration, so simple and so often ignored, becomes not just a personal duty but a societal challenge.

Climate change sharpens the danger. Rising heat, shrinking water sources, and punishing droughts expose millions to the harsh reality of thirst. Water, once taken for granted, is now a policy priority, a sustainability crisis, and a public health concern rolled into one.

But the solutions lie within reach. Choosing water over sugary or caffeinated drinks. Carrying a bottle as a habit. Eating water-rich fruits like cucumbers and watermelon. Schools, offices, and public spaces can lead with hydration stations and campaigns.

When society makes water accessible, it empowers individuals to make the right choice. Ultimately, prevention remains the wisest cure. Sip steadily through the day, not just when thirst demands it.

Treat water not as a chore but as a daily act of self-care, a quiet gift that renews every cell. The next time you lift a glass to your lips, see it as more than hydration—it is your lifeline, your body’s power source, the fuel that keeps you thriving.

Hydration is not just a lifestyle tip. It is the foundation of health, the difference between fatigue and vitality, between a body faltering and a body flourishing. It is the lifeline every human being needs to live fully and thrive.

Maimuna Katuka Aliyu wrote via munat815@gmail.com.

By Abashi Rahab

Not too long ago, I found myself standing by a roadside food stall, just watching the world go by. It was evening, and the queue was steady. One after another, people placed their orders as if on autopilot. I watched a man buy a heap of fried yam and sauce, “wash it down” with a chilled soft drink, and disappear into the night.

To any onlooker, the scene was unremarkable. In fact, it felt deeply familiar, a routine millions of us perform daily without a second thought. And that is precisely the heart of the problem.

For many Nigerians, eating has become a mechanical act rather than a nutritional one. We reach for what is available, what is fast, and what provides that immediate satisfaction.

We rarely pause to interrogate what is in our “plastic” food or how those hidden ingredients might be rewriting our health story. To be fair, it is not always a case of intentional neglect; often, we are simply creatures of habit.

There is also a stubborn myth that eating right is a luxury reserved for the wealthy. This misconception leads many to throw in the towel before they have even tried. But the truth is, health is not always about the weight of your wallet; it is about the quality of your choices.

That daily soft drink that has become a mealtime staple, the cultural preference for food swimming in oil, and the habit of swapping real meals for processed snacks are decisions that cost us dearly in the long run.

The real danger lies in the silence of the damage. These choices don’t strike immediately; they erode our health slowly. Over the years, they manifest as high blood pressure, diabetes, and chronic fatigue, all conditions that build up quietly until they can no longer be ignored.

What makes this reality so tragic is that eating better is well within our reach. Many of our local staples, like beans, local rice, vegetables, and plantains, are nutritional powerhouses when we treat them with respect.

The secret is not in buying expensive or packaged food; it is in reducing the oil, cutting the sugar, and finding balance in what we already have on our plates. It is about the small, daily steps that move us away from digging our graves with our teeth.

Breaking these habits is no walk in the park, especially when they are woven into the fabric of our daily lives. However, awareness is a powerful catalyst. Choosing water over soda, being mindful of portion sizes, and thinking twice before defaulting to the usual oily foods are small steps that lead to a massive outcome.

In the end, our health is rarely determined by a single meal. It is shaped by the repeated, unthinking choices we make every day. We often complain that healthy food is expensive, and in a tough economy, that can be true. But we seldom talk about the true cost of eating carelessly.

One day, the bill comes due. It stops being about the price of a plate of food and starts being about hospital bills, lifelong medication, and a life forced to slow down long before its time. By then, the conversation is no longer about what we ate—it’s about what those choices have taken from us.

Abashi Rahab is a student of Strategic Communication at Yakubu Gowon University, Abuja. An intern with IMPR. She can be reached at: abashirahab@gmail.com.