By Charles Mgbolu
Clad in green reflector jackets, with brown leather satchels slung over their shoulders, a group of eight healthcare workers stand in a circle clapping, singing and praying.
They work in a local community hospital not far from the Yola city centre in Adamawa state, northeast Nigeria.
The song, written in the native Fulfulde dialect, speaks of their work and the goal of ensuring health services percolate down to the target communities. It's a song meant to boost the workers' confidence as they step out for a public vaccination drive that will take some of them into the interiors of the region.
The hours on the road don't bother them as much as the prospect of something sinister lurking in the shadows as they make the journey.
“I travel to Mayo and Gombi, which is about two hours from where I am based. Before I go, I pray to God to spare my life," field vaccination officer Dorothy Ezekiel, 26, tells TRT Afrika.
"I know I am taking a huge risk, because travelling by road to remote areas could lead you straight into the arms of kidnappers, bandits or even terrorists.”
Ransom industry
Kidnapping for ransom has risen sharply in Nigeria, particularly in the country's north.
According to data from the Council on Foreign Relations, over 4,000 people were taken hostage in Nigeria in 2022.
More than 4,500 were killed. In 2018, three female aid workers had been taken hostage by Boko Haram in Borno state.
A lone soldier was escorting the aid workers from Maiduguri to Monguno when they ran into an ambush. Aid workers take food and medication to mostly people displaced by conflict.
In June 2022, the UN Resident and Humanitarian Coordinator told local media that frequent attacks on aid workers, particularly around Adamawa and its surrounding communities, was derailing humanitarian efforts in the region.
According to a report by the Nigerian National Emergency Management Agency, over 230,000 people were living in IDP camps across Adamawa state as of July last year while more than 780,000 had been resettled till March.
Many of those in the camps had been evicted from their communities by the depredations of either armed bandits, terrorists or kidnappers.
Braving constant risks to their personal safety, health workers in these regions continue to provide succour to these people, travelling to isolated, often hard-to-reach communities to carry out much-needed vaccinations and distribute medicines.
John Manabeta, executive director of a female gender advocacy group, marvels at the courage of the health workers to execute their tasks in the face of danger. "They travel to these villages basically on their our own.
They don't go with security or escorts…nothing. They just pray to come back safe," he says.
Vax populi
Venturing into territories where threats lurk at every turn isn't the only worry for health workers.
They also need to contend with an aggressive tribe of anti-vaxxers. In some parts of northern Nigeria, anti-vaxxers put up stiff, and sometimes violent, resistance to health workers trying to vaccinate their children.
Sadiq Musa, who has been working as a mobile health worker for 29 years, knows what it takes to go through the grind.
“I meet them every day, and they accuse me of injecting their children with contraceptive drugs so that they are unable to give birth to many children," he says.
Vaccination officer Dorothy recalls a particularly scary moment when she had to flee a community with her female colleague.
“They suddenly started to speak in a dialect I or my health worker colleague didn’t understand," she narrates.
“They were about eight men, and it seemed like they were slowly trying to surround us. I told my colleague, 'We have to leave this place immediately'."
Dorothy and her colleague turned and walked away as fast as they could, only to find the group of men following them at the same pace.
"My heart was beating so fast. They stopped after a while but kept staring at us as we walked far off and left the community," she says.
Laurete Anaza, who works with an NGO that trains volunteer health workers, told TRT Afrika that such incidents, even though far apart, can be traumatising for the affected health worker.
"Yes, we tell them to run for their lives when it gets dangerous, especially when there is risk of harm to their person or their colleague. We've had cases of health workers assaulted." John Manabeta, another official, corroborates this.
"We tell our health workers to mark the homes where they faced trouble, and sometimes we go back with police officers if they have been extremely violent towards the field workers."
Recurring experiences like these, although unsettling, haven't discouraged Dorothy from continuing with fieldwork.
“I have not been able to go back to that community that was hostile towards me and my colleague. For the others that I have travelled to, I went prepared, wearing running shoes and shorts under my clothes, and remaining alert."
Critical work
According to WHO, immunisation currently prevents about 5 million deaths every year from diseases like diphtheria, tetanus, pertussis, influenza, and measles.
Vaccines also reduce the risks of getting a disease by working with the body’s natural defences to build protection.
Vaccinating children is, therefore, essential despite the risks to safety those involved in the campaign face.
In March last year, the Adamawa state government announced it had achieved 101% coverage in routine immunisation against diseases like polio, besides the rollout of Covid-19 vaccination.
It's a testament to the courage and commitment of those involved in the exercise, something health worker Sadiq attributes to his prayers. "This is what makes me proud of the kind of job that I do," he says.
The work is far from over, though. "There are still communities on the fringes that are yet to be reached. It might not be today or tomorrow, but we will surely take our message of health to them. Someday for sure," says Dorothy.
