ONE of the few positives about the COVID-19 saga is lots of worst case scenarios haven’t played out.
In mid-April, the UN Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA) projected 300,000 deaths in a best case scenario and three million in the worst case for Africa. But as at yesterday, there were only 859,930 confirmed cases on the continent and deaths stood at 18,177.
These are not small numbers, but they are far removed from the apocalyptic figures predicted just two months ago.
We have seen that continental pattern manifesting in Nigeria. Early in May, Lagos State Commissioner for Health, Prof. Akin Abayomi, projected that Coronavirus cases in the state could reach 120,000 by July or August.
But here we are on the cusp of August and confirmed cases are hovering around 15,000. Given that Lagos accounts for one-third of the recorded infections nationally, the model referred to in the preceding paragraph would suggest that Nigeria should be talking of 360,000 cases at this point. But the current national count is just over 41,000.
Perhaps in the United States we have seen dire expectations become reality. President Donald Trump felt that the worst case scenario would be the death of 100,000 people. He did actually say if they could hold fatalities at that mark his administration would have done “a damn good job.” Well, that target was crossed well over a month ago and 150,000 Americans have now died from the virus.
So what accounts for all the doomsday scenarios not coming to pass? Everyone has a theory. Some, with the benefit of hindsight, now argue that the Covid-inspired restrictions were unnecessary after all because of the numbers we’ve been seeing. That is assuming those numbers are credible given abysmally low testing.
Their position also assumes lockdowns, social distancing, handwashing, wearing of face masks and other measures didn’t have an effect. Just as the world was feeling its way forward in those early months because of limited knowledge, very few can convincingly explain how the virus works. Indeed, if they could, the world would have a vaccine or cure by now.
Oh, apparently a cure does already exist according to a certain Dr. Stella Immanuel, a Houston, United States-based medic. She was captured early this week in a viral video extolling the virtues of hydroxychloroquine as the cure for COVID-19.
The Bali, Cameroon-born Immanuel has a Nigerian connection having studied medicine at the University of Calabar between 1984 and 1990. On her Facebook page, the pediatrician refers to herself as a “physician, author, speaker, entrepreneur, deliverance minister, God’s battle axe and weapon of war.”
But it is her impassioned intervention over the treatment of Coronavirus that has arrested the world. She claims to have personally treated over 350 patients with COVID-19 – including those with underlying conditions like diabetes, high blood pressure and asthma. One of her patients, she claims, was 92 years old and most impressive of all, none of the hundreds she’s managed died from the virus.
“This virus has a cure. It is called hydroxychloroquine, zinc, and Zithromax. I know you people want to talk about a mask. Hello? You don’t need a mask. There is a cure,” she declared.
Her case was quickly undermined by the fact that she was part of a group of conservative and pro-Trump activists who appeared to have been mobilised to counter criticism of the president’s handling of the pandemic. Political stench very quickly overwhelmed any pretence that this was just about medicine and science.
As if to confirm this, Trump rushed to retweet Immanuel’s video as confirmation of his long-held position that hydroxychloroquine was the magic potion to deliver the world from the grip of COVID-19.
Not so fast Mr. President, said Twitter and Facebook who have been battling to scrub the video from his thread – but not after millions of his followers had viewed versions of the clip. The social media sites also penalised the president’s son, Donald Jr, for retweeting Immanuel’s video which they considered misleading.
Many doctors around the world continue to treat COVID-19 patients with hydroxychloroquine and in some cases they get better – causing people to question whether the ailment is any different from malaria. Not too long ago AIT proprietor, Dr. Raymond Dokpesi, was discharged from isolation after a positive diagnosis and went public with his scepticism as to whether he actually had the virus.
The debate about the drug’s efficacy would continue until a definitive solution is found. WHO disputes claims about the efficacy of drugs like hydroxychloroquine, azithromycin and chloroquine as treatment or cure for coronavirus.
The US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) also recently revoked emergency approval that allowed doctors to prescribe hydroxychloroquine to COVID-19 patients.
One major problem with coronavirus is the disruption. If you have malaria, it’s your headache. If a father is infected with the virus he’s likely to take down his family with him. When a governor contracts it, a good chunk of his team would be affected. Ekiti State Governor, Kayode Fayemi’s contracting the virus has snowballed to several cabinet members and close personal aides.
Most times when people speak of worst and best case scenarios, they look only at the number of cases and fatalities – not factoring in the disruptions. Coming into 2020 no one could have predicted the deadly impact of the pandemic on livelihoods.
In June, Vice President Yemi Osinbajo citing recent data by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) projected that 40 million would lose their jobs by the end of this year, due to lockdowns and social distancing measures. With more companies downsizing and critical sectors of the economy struggling to adjust to life in this new era, those estimates could very well turn out to be best case scenarios.
But it wasn’t all gloom and doom. Last week, for the first time in the past few months, President Muhammadu Buhari, ventured outside Aso Villa to attend a regional summit in Mali. In case you missed it, he made the trip with face mask firmly in place! And that’s change for a man who very few have caught wearing one in public.