What Kills
Nigerians
Isn’t Always
the Injury.
It’s the Guesswork.
His name was Chinedu.
Sickle cell warrior. Quiet guy. Always carried himself with dignity.
He collapsed at a wedding in Jos.
They thought it was low sugar.
Someone gave him glucose.
He died on the spot.
They didn’t know he was hypersensitive to glucose-based infusions.
They were trying to save him.
But they killed him.
And they will never admit that part.
And now here’s the hardest truth to swallow:
20,000 Nigerians are reported missing every single year.
But how many of them are actually just buried in silence, in a different city, as “Unknown”?
How many mothers are still praying for kids who will never come home —
Because no one knew who to call?
Let that sink in.