In many parts of Nigeria, death does not always arrive dramatically. Sometimes, it slips in quietly — through a bite in the night, a delayed ambulance, an empty emergency ward, or a hospital that simply does not have what is needed to save a life.
Snakebites are not new in Nigeria. They occur in farming communities, semi-urban settlements, and even in cities. Yet, each time a fatal case emerges and briefly dominates public conversation, it is treated as an unfortunate accident rather than what it truly represents: a systemic failure.
Nigeria records thousands of snakebite incidents every year, but the conversation around them remains shallow. The focus often stays on the snake — how it entered a home, whether it was poisonous, or if it attacked unprovoked. Rarely do we sustain attention on what happens after the bite, where survival is often determined not by fate, but by access to timely medical care.
For many victims, the real danger begins after the venom enters the body. Antivenom, the single most critical treatment for venomous snakebites, is scarce, expensive, and unevenly distributed across the country. Rural clinics rarely stock it. Urban hospitals often require immediate payment before treatment. In emergencies where minutes matter, these delays become fatal.
What makes snakebite deaths especially troubling is how preventable many of them are. With early intervention and adequate antivenom, survival rates are high. Yet, victims are forced to navigate poor road networks, unresponsive emergency services, and under-equipped hospitals while the venom spreads. Some never make it to a facility capable of helping them. Others arrive only to be told there is nothing available.
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This reality exposes a larger truth about Nigeria’s healthcare system: it is reactive, underfunded, and inaccessible to the majority. Snakebite victims are not dying solely because they were bitten. They are dying because emergency response systems are weak, health facilities are ill-prepared, and lifesaving drugs are treated as luxury items rather than essentials.
The burden also falls disproportionately on the poor. Farmers, artisans, and low-income families are the most affected, yet they are the least equipped to absorb the cost of treatment. When survival depends on who can pay faster, healthcare stops being a right and becomes a gamble.
Addressing this crisis does not require groundbreaking innovation. It requires prioritisation. Stocking antivenom in public hospitals, subsidising emergency treatment, strengthening ambulance services, and training healthcare workers in snakebite management are achievable steps.
