When 22-year-old Ifeoma Adindu fell ill in the humid heat of late June, her family never imagined it was anything beyond the familiar symptoms of malaria or typhoid. She was a final-year Biology Education student in the South-East, she had exams looming but was instead battling a fever so high it left her trembling, rashes that burned across her skin and headaches that split her nights into sleepless fragments. “I took antimalarial drugs, I did blood tests, I even received drips,” she recalled, her voice still heavy with the memory. “One result said I had malaria, another claimed I had a blood infection. But nothing worked. I kept getting worse. I thought I was going to die.” Weeks later, wasted and frail, she finally sought help at a specialist clinic in Awka. There, the truth emerged, it was not malaria, not typhoid, but dengue fever, a name unfamiliar to her, and to millions of Nigerians who mistake it for something else until it is nearly too late.
Adindu’s story mirrors a quiet crisis unravelling across Nigeria. Dengue fever, spread by the Aedes mosquito (the same vector that carries yellow fever and Zika), has long been seen as a disease confined to Asia and Latin America.
But climate change, poor sanitation and stagnant waste are giving the mosquitoes fertile breeding grounds in Nigeria’s cities and villages. The World Health Organisation estimates nearly 400 million infections worldwide every year, with Africa’s burden rising fast. But because its symptoms so closely resemble malaria which includes fever, rashes, body pains and nausea, most cases slip through the cracks.
Many families, like Ifeoma’s, spend weeks chasing the wrong treatment until the illness turns severe. The Nigeria Centre for Disease Control now calls dengue a re-emerging threat, warning that ignoring it could prove fatal. Still, while the disease is advancing, solutions are also unfolding across Nigeria and beyond.
The first step is catching it early. For decades, doctors in Nigeria have been trained to see malaria as the default diagnosis for fever. But places like Singapore and Brazil, where dengue is a yearly menace, show what is possible when governments invest in rapid diagnostic tests and strong laboratory networks. In Nigeria, that shift is slowly beginning. The NCDC has added dengue into its disease surveillance framework, while health experts call for rapid diagnostic kits in every primary healthcare centre. Imagine the difference if, at the first sign of fever, patients like Adindu could be tested and diagnosed correctly within hours not after weeks of trial and error. Accurate diagnosis could turn stories of near-death into swift recoveries.
Communities, too, are proving powerful in the fight. In Lagos slums, civil society groups like the Health Awareness Nigeria Initiative have launched clean-up campaigns, teaching families to drain stagnant water, cover storage containers, and clear blocked gutters.
These small acts echo the aggressive measures in Singapore, where households face fines if they allow mosquitoes to breed in their homes. Brazil has gone further, releasing genetically modified mosquitoes to curb populations. Nigeria may not yet be ready for such advanced methods, but scaling up its grassroots campaigns could dramatically shrink mosquito habitats and prevent infections before they start.
But beyond clean-ups and diagnostics, the greatest solution may lie in knowledge itself. When reporters visited markets in Lagos, traders mistook dengue for “a new kind of COVID-19,” fearing another lockdown. Such ignorance is dangerous. Public education through schools, churches, mosques, radio jingles and town hall meetings could transform that fear into awareness, teaching people to spot symptoms and take precautions. Globally, the WHO has set a target which is :cut dengue deaths by 25% and infections by 50% by 2030. Nigeria, by joining international collaborations, investing in awareness campaigns, and funding its healthcare system, can meet that target. For Ifeoma, the journey back to health was slow and painful, but it offered her one clarity that if she had known what dengue was, maybe she wouldn’t have waited so long.
Ifeoma Adindu, a final-year student, suffered a severe illness initially misdiagnosed as malaria or typhoid, revealing the misperception of dengue fever in Nigeria. Her story highlights the growing threat of dengue, a mosquito-borne disease increasingly prevalent due to climate change and poor sanitation. It's often confused with malaria due to similar symptoms like fever and body pain, leading to incorrect treatments. This misdiagnosis is a common issue for many Nigerian families.
With dengue fever emerging as a re-emerging threat, Nigeria's healthcare system is beginning to implement changes, such as integrating dengue into disease surveillance and advocating for rapid diagnostic kits in primary centers. Community-driven clean-up campaigns are reducing mosquito breeding grounds, echoing other countries' success. Global awareness and local education efforts are crucial to understanding and preventing dengue, and Nigeria aims to significantly reduce dengue-related deaths and infections by 2030. Public education and early diagnosis can facilitate swift recoveries, preventing severe cases.
