2020: The year of survival (I)

At the beginning of the year, just like millions of people around the globe, I wrote out my new year goals and resolutions. Elitist as it may sound, I had a whole vision board designed with my long-term goals and the steps I needed to take to achieve them. I wrote them out neatly and drew arrows in a circular fashion depicting the goals I wanted to attain.

Alas, I realised none of them.

If you are reading this, Alhamdulillah. It means you made it to the end of 2020. A year full of surprises and grief that shook the entire world and still threatens to collapse our health care system. A year where we were all forced to reflect and ponder on what is most important to us and to realise the importance of family. A year like no other.

For me, the first premonition of catastrophic things to come was announced by the death of our colleagues-Dr Habeeb, a fantastic anaesthesiologist who championed the Basic and Advanced Cardiac Life Support program, Dr Abubakar, an equally dedicated urologist, and Dr Kaltum, a young house officer, just starting her career. More saddening was the manner of their death. Drs Habeeb and Kaltum died of complications of Lassa fever, the dreaded haemorrhagic fever that was not common in Kano. Their symptoms were vague and ambiguous, such that their diagnosis was discovered too late when their organs had started to shut down. The hospital community underwent a period of intense grief and fear and our spirits were partially lifted when some of our colleagues, later diagnosed with Lassa fever, survived.

On the 30th of January, the WHO announced that COVID-19 was a Public Health Emergency of International Concern. Previously most of us had watched the news half-heartedly and assumed that it would be contained in Asia, much like SARS and MERS in 2003 and 2012 respectively. The world made jokes and memes about the Chinese and their penchant for consuming exotic animals. Videos were made and the Chinese were stigmatised, that is until the first case of COVID-19 in Nigeria was announced on the 28th of February, 2020 and we realised our collective foolishness. And like all things in this country, some people denied it at first and even demanded to know the identity of the patient isolated. I remember former President Obasanjo mocking the Presidential Task Force on COVID-19, saying that the cases were concocted to justify the millions spent by the government on preparing for COVID-19. Now, look at us.

And while we struggled to come to terms with COVID-19 in Nigeria, the killings and kidnappings escalated in villages in Katsina and neighbouring states and the hashtags #Securenorth was born. News of bandits burning down villages, stealing cattle and kidnapping women reached our ears and we became outraged. Keyboard warriors like myself, advocated for the security chiefs and government to do the needful by putting a stop to the menace of insecurity. Our outrage did not last long, however, because, by March 9th, the feud between Governor Ganduje and Sanusi Lamido came to catapult with the dethronement of King Sanusi Lamido II. Never in my short stay on this earth had I witnessed anything like this. SLS, a respected and internationally renowned scholar of Economics, applauded worldwide for his brilliance had been ousted by a governor and banished from Kano forever. We watched with horror and later happiness at the manner in which he travelled to Awe, Nasarawa State and the wonderful ovation with which he was received. It gladdened my heart the way Governor El-rufai, stood by him, defying party politics, accompanying him to Nasarawa State. May we be blessed with loyal friends like him in our lives.

In March 2020, the WHO declared COVID-19 a pandemic and by the end of the month, FG had announced a 14-day lockdown across all states in Nigeria. Suddenly, we were thrown into a life without structure.

How does one describe the terrible period of that lockdown?

A period where people were forced to stay at home and keep away from bars, restaurants, clubs and ‘majalisas’. A period where families were forced together, under one roof, and made to face problems they were previously avoiding. A period when many people could not feed their families and many lost their jobs. A period when interstate and international travel was banned such that students who schooled abroad were stuck in the apartments with only the internet for company. A period where domestic violence escalated all around the world and many marriages dissolved. Amid all this, companies like Amazon and Netflix profited immensely, proving that for some, every disappointment is a blessing in disguise. On a lighter note, the lockdown also brought out the romantic nature of Arewa married women who challenged themselves by making videos of them dancing for their husbands to Hamisu Breaker’s song. Along with that trend came the popular #dontrush challenge where people all over the world transformed themselves, albeit magically, into a better version of themselves. And as if we did not already have enough on our plate, ASUU decided to go strike.

In the hospital, the atmosphere was grim and everyone you saw had a look of despair on their faces. Some colleagues tested positive and the collective question on everyone’s lips was: ‘Am I next?’. This was a new disease, you see, and we were all frightened. Many health workers across the country were dying, while many more survived, and we were rapidly becoming stigmatised. I recall my husband jokingly saying to me one day- ‘Are you sure you won’t move to the boys’ quarters?’

I survived that lockdown by burying myself in work and reading. We reduced the number of patients to be seen and divided ourselves into teams in the department so as to reduce our exposure to patients. Despite several warnings for people to stay home and only come to hospitals for emergencies, some patients still came with complaints like ‘My wife and I have been married for five years without a child’. Really? And you are just realising this during the Corona lockdown?

Then came Ramadan in May. The holy month in which Muslims all over the world are obligated to fast from dawn till daybreak. Affluent Muslims in Nigeria usually use this period to travel to Saudi Arabia so as to gain more reward in the hereafter. However, this time around, due to the lockdown, there was no Umrah and people were becoming increasingly frustrated. The upside of this though, was that many poor people benefitted from the rich around them as their presence ensured that food would be available for Iftar and Sallah meat was guaranteed ‘nyafu nyafu!’

Meanwhile, in the U.S, an African American man, George Floyd was killed after a police officer kneels on his neck for an extended period. The video of the white policeman staring into the camera while killing him set off outrage and re-ignited the #Blacklivesmatter movement and protests worldwide. And like most protests, it soon escalated to violence with people breaking into shops and burning down police cars. The protests spread across almost the states and UK and was even joined by some very ‘over sabi’ or ‘patriotic’ Nigerians. I remember watching with dismay on CNN, African Americans vandalising a stationery police car, breaking its windows and bashing the body until it was no longer recognisable.

Since then, whenever I am asked the question ‘What has 2020 taught you?’

My reply? – That America is a third world country wearing a lot of makeup!

To be continued.