By Iqra Salah
Nigeria’s blood supply system is ‘broken’, pushing desperate patients and families to source dangerous alternatives.
A wave of red corrugated roofs welcomes visitors to the city of Ibadan in southwest Nigeria. Inside the 200-year-old city’s centre, incessant traffic winds through narrow, unpaved roads and past crowded open-air markets.
At the edge of the city, Opeyemi Dasola’s home, a square fortress of cement, is a calm oasis. Dasola, a streetside cheese seller, is a quiet soul, and the only sound in her living room is the gentle hum of the air conditioner circulating air through the sparsely furnished space.
But just a week earlier, this house was rocked with chaos. Fowarogun, Dasola’s 17-year-old daughter, had woken at midnight with a shooting pain starting in her feet and eventually engulfing every part of her body. The girl was frightened, but Dasola already knew what was causing the problem.
Fowarogun had been diagnosed with sickle cell anaemia, a hereditary condition that limits the supply of oxygen to the blood, when she was four years old. The disorder occurs due to clusters of sickle-shaped red blood cells, which can obstruct blood vessels, hindering blood flow around the body…
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