My Pages

Showing posts with label orin ata. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orin ata. Show all posts

Friday, 25 June 2010

Nigeria: Why are we leading the Sickle Cell Disease tables?

A worrisome statistic
I am saddened to read that Nigeria ranks highest in the incidence of sickle cell disease [1] according to its Health Minister.
This is unfortunate because whilst procreation in a general sense predicates from social compatibility in terms of love and the emotional baggage it carries, there is a medical imperative for prospective Sub-Saharan African and African descent couples to ascertain their suitability for bearing children who are not prone to the disease.
It has been a standard part of our biology lessons that carriers of the sickle cell disease [2] gene have the possibility of bearing a child in four with the full-blown disease.
Between faith and daring-do
It is irresponsible for such parents to play Russian Roulette with a life on the uncertainty of what the child might turn out to be and it is faith completely misplaced regardless of religious conviction to hope that a child might not have the disease when it is clear that both parents are carriers.
The true test of faith and belief must be that either parent who had been a carrier had received the miracle of healing with the medical certification of that cure before engaging in the act of procreation.
It cannot be justified that because the parents have never suffered the ravages of sickle-cell anaemia their love, their faith and their hopes can be sufficient to assuage the almost certain very low quality of life of pain, of sickness, of disease and revolving hospital doors that the child will be subjected to.
There might however be aspects of ignorant, illiterate, rural and undeveloped communities that might not be too conversant with the genesis of sickle cell disease, but even they should be a minority in the year 2010.
A commanding responsibility
The excuse the children are God’s gift does not wash in this matter, a responsibility is demanded of us to ensure that we do not bring children into avoidable suffering especially that which comes with the knowledge that both parents are carriers of the sickle-cell anaemia gene.
As a child, I watched the 3 boys from the same family suffer from the disease, the eldest of them died at the age of 12. My mother recommended the use of the prickly ash bark [3] (orin ata) chewing stick which was supposed to have some palliative effects on sufferers but we were all affected by this condition because of the close friends impacted.
That was over 35 years ago, in 2010, there is just no reason why we should have such a high rate of sufferers born which goes on to reflect in high child mortality rates.
Misguided superstitions
The sway of the superstitious and the unintelligent application of the spiritual leaves many thinking child mortality is related to re-birthing cycles of abiku [4], ogbanje [5], witchcraft and other mythical or supernatural phenomenon when all that is required is a simple blood test and an intelligent decision not to copulate to procreate rather than wishing, hoping and praying in vain for what we have been given the intellect to decide for ourselves.
We really can save ourselves all the hassle and not bear children with the throw of the die of chance, if some medical procedure is developed to ensure the child does not take on the genetic trait, that would be fine but for the yet unborn, if you love her but you are both carriers, get the snip and get the cap – if you really want children, then, you true love might just be a wish while you seek another who would not leave you in danger of giving your child an avoidable life-long legacy with the possibility of the child pre-deceasing you.
Now, for those already born, one can only hope for greater medical discoveries that ameliorate the situation or even offer the possibility of a cure. God be with you, it was not a lot you chose but I do hope that your lives are as significant in the love, the hope, the faith and the achievements you can bring to bear in your families and communities in the midst of your sufferings.
Sources

Thursday, 30 March 2006

Not in my local shop

A cure for nostalgia
It is always a pleasure to pass by the African shop run by an Igbo lady from Nigeria just at the entrance to the metro service at Amsterdam Central Station.
She stocks all the essential ingredients from Nigeria that I never really find that I am nostalgic about food stuffs that one can get from home.
However, for those who cannot find a shop to visit to feel the yams, smell the pepper or get stained with the red of palm oil there is an online outfit called NotInMyLocalShop.
Indeed, those things are not in my local shop which happens to be on the ground floor of my dock-side apartment. The last time I tried something called dasheens which are corms very much like our traditional cocoyam, the result was only fit for the bin.
If the bin were living, it might have regurgitated the stuff; well that is what bins are for, things you cannot stomach.
Healing the pain of sickles
In fact, the only thing she does not stock is Prickly Ash Bark (Orin ata in Yoruba), which is a savoury chewing stick which is supposed to have properties that help alleviate the pains and travails of sickle cell anaemia.
I remember that vividly because, I once was school mates with three kids who unfortunately all had sickle cell anaemia and when my mum found out about it, she recommended the prickly ash bark to them, it became like chewing gum for them, but the elder died whilst I think the others did thrive. I hope they are well now and probably in their late 30s.
Prickly ash bark is said to have quite a number of medicinal properties that I found myself asking for the stuff from Nigeria because I heard of an unusual case of a little white boy suffering from the sickle cell disease.
Well, I thought it was impossible or someone in his lineage might have been of a West African background for there to be a trait to be become obvious in him.
My friend swore to me that his parents and forebears were peasant folk that it is very unlikely that any might have gone for either the exotic of the Nubian. We learn strange things.
Who do you think you are?
I could take his word for it, but after watching a few episodes of “Who do you think you are?” programme on the BBC; where celebrities trace their genealogy going back up to 8 generations or more and learning of their ancestry; we can come from anywhere and sometimes the truth is just too hard to bear.
Beyond the condiments at the shop, I noticed that two other commodities raced off the shelves before they had time to gather the next morning’s dew; false hairs or hair extensions and skin-lightening creams.
Both of which seem to elicit some commentary whenever I get to the shop because it is one of those occasions that I get to speak Pidgin English – not the best because many a time, I have to switch to English to get a point across.
Skin-lightening creams illustrate a dichotomy of needs as Caucasians seek a tan and Africans seek a tone, no one seems to be satisfied with how they look. It is a mad world.
Disguises in the guise of the opposite sex
However, I could not help but observe as her son was unpacking the new deliveries of hair extensions how useful they would have been for Charles Taylor as he tried to escape from Nigeria at a border crossing to Cameroon.
That episode would still develop wings as it is possible that President Ellen Sirleaf-Johnson of Liberia was ambushed and blackmailed into making Charles Taylor a priority in her visit to the US.
How that really helps the Liberians fails to impress me, but it is not the first time that the US has made aid conditional on fulfilling self-interest.
I could imagine a disguise with hair extensions giving the effeminacy that let the ex-Nigerian Governor Alamieyeseigha escape justice in the UK but was lacking for Charles Taylor to leave Nigeria.
For once, it appears the Nigerians were a lot more vigilant than the British who were fooled by a big black man in drag who had just undergone a tummy-tuck in Germany.
Alas! We see a lot but observe very little.