Hepatitis: Nigeria’s Silent Epidemic that Thrives in the Shadows

ABUJA, Nigeria – Every 28 July, the world marks World Hepatitis Day. This year, the streets of Abuja buzzed with rallies, awareness drives, and free testing campaigns. From the bustling stalls of Wuse Market to the traffic-laden districts of Nyanya and Garki, posters declared: “Hepatitis is preventable, treatable, and curable.”

Yet, behind the noise and colour lies a disease that moves silently—slowly destroying lives before many even know its name. In this report, Dennis Gabriel speaks to Nigerians on the streets of the capital, who share their stories of loss, survival, and the urgent need for awareness.

“I used to think hepatitis was just like malaria until a neighbour died from liver failure,” said Hauwa Bello, a resident of Lugbe. “It turned out to be hepatitis B — and he didn’t even know until it was too late.”

Her story is echoed across Nigeria; a country the World Health Organisation (WHO) says bears one of the heaviest burdens of hepatitis in sub-Saharan Africa.

An estimated 20 million Nigerians live with either hepatitis B or C, but the majority are unaware of their status until complications arise.

A Disease in the Shadows

Hepatitis simply means inflammation of the liver, but its causes and consequences vary widely. The five major viruses — A, B, C, D, and E — spread in different ways:

Hepatitis A & E: usually transmitted through contaminated food and water.

Hepatitis B, C & D: spread through blood, unsterile medical equipment, unsafe sexual contact, or from mother to child during birth.

While hepatitis B can be prevented with a vaccine, and hepatitis C is curable with modern antivirals, Nigeria struggles with access. In rural communities, testing is scarce, vaccines are patchy, and treatment remains expensive.

“The tragedy is that we already have the tools to fight hepatitis, but they’re out of reach for the people who need them most,” said Dr. Emmadi, a public health consultant in Abuja.

Barriers Nigeria Cannot Ignore

Despite progress on paper, four stubborn barriers keep hepatitis entrenched:

  1. Low Awareness: Many Nigerians are unaware of the risks or mistake symptoms for malaria or typhoid.
  2. Cost of Care: Antiviral drugs cost far more than most households can afford.
  3. Stigma and Discrimination: Patients report losing jobs or facing rejection after disclosing their status.
  4. Weak Data Systems: Without reliable nationwide data, progress is difficult to measure.

“Someone I know lost her job after her employer found out she had hepatitis B,” said Samuel Ikenna, a university student in Abuja. “That kind of fear keeps people from testing.”

The National Promise vs. Reality

In 2021, the Federal Ministry of Health unveiled the National Viral Hepatitis Control Programme, aligned with WHO’s global target of reducing new infections by 90% and deaths by 65% by 2030.

The blueprint prioritised: Vaccination for newborns and at-risk groups, safer blood transfusion and injection practices, affordable treatment options and widespread testing and public education.

But implementation tells another story. Funding shortages, limited health infrastructure, and donor dependency slow momentum. Civil society groups such as Hepatitis Zero Nigeria and SOGHIN have stepped up, offering free testing in cities like Abuja. Still, their reach rarely extends to underserved rural areas, where the epidemic is most silent.

Stories Behind the Statistics

Numbers tell only part of the story. In Nyanya, Sani Mohammed recalls losing his brother last year.

“We thought it was typhoid or something else,” he said quietly. “By the time we found out, the liver was badly damaged. He died within weeks.”

But there are also stories of resilience. Christiana Akande, 29, diagnosed with hepatitis B three years ago, now manages her health with medication.

“It’s not a death sentence if you catch it early,” she said. “The hardest part is convincing people to get tested before it’s too late.”

These voices underline the dual reality: hepatitis kills silently, but early diagnosis can save lives.

Global Goals, Local Struggles

Globally, WHO envisions a future where hepatitis is eliminated as a public health threat by 2030. Countries like Egypt have achieved dramatic reductions through mass screening and subsidised treatment campaigns.

Nigeria, by contrast, faces competing health priorities. Resources are stretched thin across malaria, tuberculosis, maternal mortality, and emerging threats like cholera outbreaks. Hepatitis often receives less attention — yet it kills thousands annually through liver failure and cancer.

“Every life lost to hepatitis is a preventable death,” said Dr. Emmadi. “The difference between Nigeria and countries making progress is political will, funding, and community mobilisation.”

The Way Forward: What Experts Recommend

Health experts argue that Nigeria must move from awareness drives to systemic action:

Universal Vaccination: Ensure every newborn receives hepatitis B vaccination at birth.

Free Testing Nationwide: Establish accessible screening points, not just in major cities.

Subsidised Treatment: Lower drug costs for low-income families through government or donor support.

Stronger Surveillance: Build reliable data systems to monitor progress.

Anti-Stigma Campaigns: Promote public education to reduce discrimination in workplaces and communities.

“Early diagnosis is the key,” said Dr. Emmadi. “Hepatitis is preventable and treatable — but only if people know their risk and get tested.”

Breaking the Silence

Hepatitis thrives in silence, but its consequences are anything but quiet. It devastates families, burdens health systems, and steals lives prematurely. Nigeria’s awareness campaigns, like those witnessed in Abuja on World Hepatitis Day, are important first steps. But without sustained investment, millions remain vulnerable.

The message is stark yet hopeful: hepatitis is preventable, treatable, and often curable. With stronger national commitment, accessible screening, wider vaccination, and affordable treatment, Nigeria could turn the tide against this silent epidemic.

Until then, hepatitis will continue to claim lives — not because it cannot be stopped, but because too few are listening.

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