NIGERIA records about 102,000 new cancer cases yearly and over 72,000 deaths. Four out of five people diagnosed die from it. Another article in 2023 stated Nigeria is one of the countries with the highest cancer mortality rates, with approximately 4 out of 5 cases resulting in death.
Cancer walks are meant to mean something, a solemn show of solidarity, education, and hope. Stories of survival… stories of courage. People walk to raise awareness, to empathize, to say to those battling cancer: “You’re not alone.” It is supposed to be a moment where we walk with those affected, not dance away from the reality of their pain.
But somehow, along the line, we turned it into another social event, a mini concert. Now, instead of tears and purpose, we have DJs, celebrity appearances, and choreographed podium dances. A walk against cancer has quietly mutated into a walk away from it.
The core purpose has been overshadowed. Fun events are good, but they shouldn’t replace serious interventions. The event should serve as a gateway to screening, support groups, and fundraising for treatment. But is the momentum sustained after the walk ends?
We have thousands of new cases each year, tens of thousands of deaths, yet the highlight of our “solidarity” is a podium and playlist, c’mon.
When First Ladies announce their Cancer Awareness Walk, what you should really expect is a mini-concert: loud music, matching t-shirts, celebrity influencers, and plenty of photo ops. Because of course, what’s awareness without an Instagram reel, right?
But why not walk to the hospitals instead? Why not visit the homes of those battling the disease? Hold their hands, listen to their fears, pay for chemotherapy sessions. If entertainment must be involved, let it cheer the patients — not amuse the elite.
I knew someone who needed that kind of support, Amina. A fighter in every sense of the word. She battled cancer for years, mostly alone. She couldn’t afford her hospital bills, and on the rare occasions when kind people donated, she often used the money for food instead of medicine because she and her children had to eat. She fought quietly, painfully, until cancer finally won.
Seeking help from organisations, she waited in line for over two years. I don’t want to believe it’s audio help, because how can someone experiencing excruciating pain be asked to wait until “your turn”? We lost Amina to the cold hands of death. And sadly, there are many Aminas across this country, living that same horror story right now.
So forgive me when I say: rather than walk, pay someone’s hospital bill. Fund a chemotherapy round. Equip a ward. Sponsor screening programmes. Because in Nigeria, cancer feels like a death sentence. It kills faster than HIV, yet we still talk about it in hush tones. Growing up, there was even a myth that saying the word “cancer” could attract it.
Awareness may be high, but less than half of women know the symptoms, and only about 22.9% practice regular self-examination. What I expect after the walk is for every woman, every young girl to know how to examine herself and share that knowledge at home.
Let there be emphasis on paying attention to changes in the body: unusual lumps or thickening in the breast or underarm; changes in size or shape; dimpling, redness or a rash on the skin; nipple discharge or inversion.
Each year, millions are spent on walkathons, t-shirts, and media coverage but how many people get screened? How many lives get saved? Awareness should be linked to action, not awareness linked to after-party.
Meanwhile, the moment a doctor says the word “canc—,” before he even finishes “—er,” the patient is already searching for flights out of the country. Because even we don’t trust our own hospitals. Those who can’t afford medical tourism simply panic, pray, and wait because that becomes their “death sentence.”
So yes, people of affluence, please do better next year. Use your influence, your platforms, and your privileges wisely. Awareness is good, but action saves lives. Equip hospitals, fund screenings, pay for treatment. Walk the talk literally. First Ladies, please do better. You have power, influence, and accessnot just to microphones, but to meaning. Use it.
But of course, this is a cruise country where everyone loves a little fun. We’ll likely do it all again next year. Bigger stage, louder DJ, more artistes, brighter lights. We’ll walk, we’ll pose, we’ll dance and we’ll walk away from the real issue.
Because maybe that’s who we’ve become: a people who would rather celebrate the fight than actually fight it. After all, we love to have fun. We’ll laugh through pain, dance through crisis, and selfie through sickness.
Early detection saves lives, and one of the simplest ways to stay proactive is by doing a self-breast exam during a shower. It takes just a few minutes but could make a huge difference. To know is always better than to guess.
Voice, just cleared its throat!
- Kabara is a writer and public commentator. Her syndicated column, Voice, appears in News Point Nigeria newspaper on Monday. She can be reached at hafceekay01@gmail.com.