Dear Sickle Cell, How Many More Must You Take?

The first time I came face-to-face with sickle cell disease, I did not know its name. I did not understand what was happening or why someone my age could be in so much pain. I only knew that one of my classmates was always absent from school and that whenever she returned, she looked like she had been fighting a battle nobody else could see.Her name was Rabia. We met at the College of Arts, Science and Remedial Studies, Kano, during my IJMB programme. Rabia was a year ahead of us but had to repeat a session, and even then, she joined our class late because, as people would simply say, she was "sick". We became friends, and because she had missed many lessons, I often helped her catch up in physics and chemistry.As our friendship grew, I began to notice a pattern. One day she would complain of severe headaches, another day it would be pain in her legs, and the next it would be her hands. She was constantly taking medications and making hospital visits, yet she remained cheerful and determined to continue her education. It was only later that someone explained to me that Rabia was living with sickle cell disease.That revelation brought back memories of someone I had lost years earlier. His name was Aliyu Muhammad, one of my closest childhood friends. Although he was a class ahead of me in primary school, we spent nearly every day together, walking to school in the morning, returning home together in the afternoon and spending our evenings playing football in the dusty fields of our community.Aliyu's grandparents were among the kindest people I knew. Whenever we passed their house, they welcomed us warmly and often offered us food before we continued our games. Looking back today, those simple moments remain some of my happiest childhood memories, which is why losing Aliyu was one of the first heartbreaks I experienced as a young boy.Shortly after we completed primary school, sickle cell took him away. It took a boy who was full of energy, kindness and promise. It took a friend who should have been alive today, raising a family, pursuing a career and contributing to society. Even now, many years later, I still find myself wondering what kind of man Aliyu would have become had he been given the chance.Years later, while studying at Day Science College, Kano, I encountered the disease again. This time, it was through two remarkable young men, Sani Adam Munkaila and Ishaq Abba. They were among the brightest students in our class, respected by their peers for their intelligence, discipline and determination to succeed despite the challenges they faced.We nicknamed Ishaq "Ishakaba" because his name sounded like the title of a popular Nollywood film. He had a great sense of humour and could light up a room with his presence. Sani was equally admired for his hard work and academic excellence, and both young men carried themselves with a quiet confidence that inspired those around them.They also shared another reality. Both were living with sickle cell disease, a condition they never allowed to define them. Yet despite their courage and resilience, the disease eventually caught up with them and cut short lives that held enormous promise for the future.By the time I arrived at Bayero University Kano, I had already seen too many lives interrupted by sickle cell disease. That was where I met Shemau Adam, a young woman who decided that if she could not completely defeat the disease, she would dedicate her life to helping others fight it. As a student of pure and industrial chemistry, she became one of the most visible advocates for sickle cell awareness in Kano State.Shemau understood that Nigeria carries one of the world's highest burdens of sickle cell disease. Health experts estimate that about 150,000 babies are born with the condition every year in the country, while millions more carry the trait that can be passed to future generations. To many people these are statistics, but to Shemau they were human beings whose lives deserved protection and support.She organised campaigns, educated communities and encouraged families to embrace genotype testing and counselling. She wanted fewer children to be born into preventable suffering, and she wanted those already living with the disease to know they were not alone. Her passion came from personal experience, but her vision extended far beyond herself.Sadly, the disease she spent years fighting eventually claimed her life as well. News of her death was painful not only because of who she was, but because of what she represented. Shemau was proof that people living with sickle cell disease are not defined by their condition; they are leaders, advocates, students, professionals and dreamers whose contributions matter.Today is World Sickle Cell Day, and as I remember Rabia, Aliyu, Sani, Ishaq and Shemau, I am reminded that behind every statistic is a human story. Across Nigeria and Africa, countless families carry similar memories of loved ones taken too soon by a disease that continues to steal childhoods, ambitions and futures. Some mourn sons and daughters, while others mourn friends whose absence still leaves a space that can never truly be filled.To those who have lost someone to sickle cell disease, your grief is shared by millions across the continent. The people we lost may no longer be here, but their memories continue to shape us. They remind us why awareness matters, why screening matters and why action can no longer be delayed.To governments across Africa, the time has come to do more than mark this day with speeches and ceremonies. Expanded genotype testing, public education, genetic counselling, specialised treatment centres and affordable healthcare should not be privileges available only to a few. They are necessities if future generations are to be spared the pain that so many families continue to endure.And to those who are still fighting, people like Rabia and millions of others whose battles often go unseen, do not give up. Every day you wake up and continue despite the pain is a victory. Every examination you write, every job you hold, every dream you pursue and every obstacle you overcome is proof that your story is bigger than your diagnosis.Finally, to sickle cell disease itself. You have taken Aliyu. You have taken Sani. You have taken Ishaq. You have taken Shemau and countless others whose names never made headlines, but whose lives mattered deeply to the people who loved them.We dream of a day when no child will lose a friend to this disease. We dream of a day when no parent will bury a son or daughter because of it. And we dream of a day when World Sickle Cell Day will become not a reminder of loss, but a celebration of a battle humanity finally won.