Monday, February 10, 2020
Video - Ighalo shock Manchester United signing excites Nigeria
The biggest football news in Nigeria this past week is the signing of former Super Eagles international striker, Odion Ighalo by Manchester United. It came as a big shock to many in the country especially in Ajegunle, a poor community in Lagos, where Ighalo grew up and started playing football. CGTN's Deji Badmus brings us the story.
Friday, February 7, 2020
Trump is turning Canada into a haven for Nigerians
Nigerians have become central figures in the most heavily reported Canadian migration story in recent years, as the largest cohort streaming through Canada’s most controversial entry-point: the ditch at Roxham Road, in small-town Quebec, that became a magnet for asylum seekers.
More quietly, though, Nigerians are playing a significant role in this country’s overall immigration story: the numbers of people arriving through conventional channels—mainly as skilled workers—have spiked, nearly tripling since 2016. Canada now brings in more permanent residents from the west African country than it does from major traditional sources like Pakistan and the United States; in 2019, the flight of upper-middle class professionals like doctors and tech workers, along with their families, helped put Nigeria behind only India, China and the Philippines and as source countries for Canadian immigration, federal data show.
Now, this trend seems sure to accelerate thanks to that key disrupter of global migration patterns and norms, Donald Trump.
Last week, the Trump administration expanded the U.S. travel ban on predominantly Muslim countries to block or restrict immigration visas from four African states—Nigeria, Eritrea, Tanzania and Sudan—as well as Kyrgyzstan and Myanmar. As usual, the Department of Homeland Security dresses these bans up in bureaucratic language about vetting and national security. But it’s not lost on anybody that, amid his many hostile public rants about foreigners, the president has grumbled to aides that tens of thousands Nigerian visitors would never “go back to their huts” in Africa.
These new restrictions will still allow Nigerians and others to come to United States on tourism or student visas—unlike the full clampdown on people from Iran, Syria and other countries Trump targeted in 2017—but prohibit the foreign nationals from obtaining permanent U.S. status through green cards. It’s most serious ripple effect is occurring in Nigeria, heavily populated yet oil-rich, with a burgeoning professional class. “New U.S. travel ban shuts door on African’s biggest economy,” a New York Times headline notes.
Johnson Babalola, the Nigerian-born managing partner of a Toronto immigration law firm, says he’s received a sharp uptick in inquiries from Nigerians this week. But they’re not all from Africa. A number are coming from Nigerians who live south of the border, including students and even professionals who already have U.S. green cards.
Why are Nigerians who’ve already securely immigrated to the U.S. suddenly wary? Because this new ban shuts the door to family reunification. “If I’m a green card holder and I can’t even bring in my spouse or my children or other relatives, then that’s tough,” says Babalola. “So you ask yourself is there somewhere I can go to that’s more open?
“Canada, quite frankly, is the obvious choice.”
Canada’s Express Entry program for skilled workers, which the Harper government launched in 2015, has a clear and predictable points system that already helped make it easier for well-educated and experienced newcomers to immigrate here. The number of Nigerians who immigrated to Canada rose from about 4,000 in 2014 to 12,000 last year, numbers from Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada show. Meanwhile, the number granted permanent residency in the United States during Trump’s tenure has been declining even before the current ban takes effect, according to data compiled by Robert Falconer, an immigration policy researcher at the University of Calgary School of Public Policy. During the last two years, Canada accepted more Nigerian immigrants than the U.S. did.
Falconer has also tracked newcomers to Canada from countries covered by Trump’s initial travel ban: Iran, Syria, Yemen, Somalia and Libya. In most cases, Canada’s intake of permanent residents from those countries rose, suggesting that this country will again pick up newcomers when its neighbour slams other doors.
Though reports suggest the Nigerian government is striving to maintain good relations with the United States, and to remedy the issues the administration claims are forcing it to put the ban in place, skilled workers may still prefer Canada, Falconer predicts. “If I’m a Nigerian professional considering a move to North America, I’d value certainty in the process over the whims of some mercurial presidency,” he says. Chad, which is Nigeria’s central African neighbour, was on Trump’s initial travel ban but came off a year later. Canada saw a spike in immigration from Chad during the ban and a decline afterwards, Falconer notes (though intake from Chad remained higher than pre-ban levels). The duration of Nigeria’s ban will determine whether Canada gets a smaller or larger bump, he adds.
Professionals from the rest of the developing world may also steer clear of U.S., lest their applications be suddenly ripped up because of a new Trump policy. Just as frustratingly, they could get into the country only to abruptly lose the chance to bring in children and spouses. “Other people from other nations will now be asking themselves: will we be next?” Babalola says.
A rise in conventional immigration, though, will not be the only effect of the new ban. To some, it appears tailor-made to induce Nigerians who land in the U.S. to enter Canada using the Roxham Road method—walking in and seeking asylum. They won’t be able to immigrate to Trump’s country, but they can get tourist visas to fly to New York and head straight to the Quebec-New York border, as thousands of Nigerians already have. The new policy will foreclose their option of seeking asylum in the United States.
But asylum claims by Nigerians dipped last year after efforts by Canadian and American officials to curb the pattern, and many of those who still choose the route are bound for disappointment. Only one-third of Nigerian refugee claims are being accepted by Canadian adjudicators, far lower than the typical success rate for asylum seekers, according to the most recent Immigration and Refugee Board data analysed by York University law professor Sean Rehaag. More than 10,000 more claimants from Nigeria await their hearings in a badly backlogged system.
Qualified professionals would have far more certainty coming in through the Express Entry, Babalola says. They and their relatives outnumber the number of Nigerians trying to move here as refugees. And thanks to the latest bit of migration upheaval the U.S. president has wrought, we can expect more of Africa’s best and brightest to boost the Canadian economy and plug our skills shortages.
By Jason Markusoff
Macleans
More quietly, though, Nigerians are playing a significant role in this country’s overall immigration story: the numbers of people arriving through conventional channels—mainly as skilled workers—have spiked, nearly tripling since 2016. Canada now brings in more permanent residents from the west African country than it does from major traditional sources like Pakistan and the United States; in 2019, the flight of upper-middle class professionals like doctors and tech workers, along with their families, helped put Nigeria behind only India, China and the Philippines and as source countries for Canadian immigration, federal data show.
Now, this trend seems sure to accelerate thanks to that key disrupter of global migration patterns and norms, Donald Trump.
Last week, the Trump administration expanded the U.S. travel ban on predominantly Muslim countries to block or restrict immigration visas from four African states—Nigeria, Eritrea, Tanzania and Sudan—as well as Kyrgyzstan and Myanmar. As usual, the Department of Homeland Security dresses these bans up in bureaucratic language about vetting and national security. But it’s not lost on anybody that, amid his many hostile public rants about foreigners, the president has grumbled to aides that tens of thousands Nigerian visitors would never “go back to their huts” in Africa.
These new restrictions will still allow Nigerians and others to come to United States on tourism or student visas—unlike the full clampdown on people from Iran, Syria and other countries Trump targeted in 2017—but prohibit the foreign nationals from obtaining permanent U.S. status through green cards. It’s most serious ripple effect is occurring in Nigeria, heavily populated yet oil-rich, with a burgeoning professional class. “New U.S. travel ban shuts door on African’s biggest economy,” a New York Times headline notes.
Johnson Babalola, the Nigerian-born managing partner of a Toronto immigration law firm, says he’s received a sharp uptick in inquiries from Nigerians this week. But they’re not all from Africa. A number are coming from Nigerians who live south of the border, including students and even professionals who already have U.S. green cards.
Why are Nigerians who’ve already securely immigrated to the U.S. suddenly wary? Because this new ban shuts the door to family reunification. “If I’m a green card holder and I can’t even bring in my spouse or my children or other relatives, then that’s tough,” says Babalola. “So you ask yourself is there somewhere I can go to that’s more open?
“Canada, quite frankly, is the obvious choice.”
Canada’s Express Entry program for skilled workers, which the Harper government launched in 2015, has a clear and predictable points system that already helped make it easier for well-educated and experienced newcomers to immigrate here. The number of Nigerians who immigrated to Canada rose from about 4,000 in 2014 to 12,000 last year, numbers from Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada show. Meanwhile, the number granted permanent residency in the United States during Trump’s tenure has been declining even before the current ban takes effect, according to data compiled by Robert Falconer, an immigration policy researcher at the University of Calgary School of Public Policy. During the last two years, Canada accepted more Nigerian immigrants than the U.S. did.
Falconer has also tracked newcomers to Canada from countries covered by Trump’s initial travel ban: Iran, Syria, Yemen, Somalia and Libya. In most cases, Canada’s intake of permanent residents from those countries rose, suggesting that this country will again pick up newcomers when its neighbour slams other doors.
Though reports suggest the Nigerian government is striving to maintain good relations with the United States, and to remedy the issues the administration claims are forcing it to put the ban in place, skilled workers may still prefer Canada, Falconer predicts. “If I’m a Nigerian professional considering a move to North America, I’d value certainty in the process over the whims of some mercurial presidency,” he says. Chad, which is Nigeria’s central African neighbour, was on Trump’s initial travel ban but came off a year later. Canada saw a spike in immigration from Chad during the ban and a decline afterwards, Falconer notes (though intake from Chad remained higher than pre-ban levels). The duration of Nigeria’s ban will determine whether Canada gets a smaller or larger bump, he adds.
Professionals from the rest of the developing world may also steer clear of U.S., lest their applications be suddenly ripped up because of a new Trump policy. Just as frustratingly, they could get into the country only to abruptly lose the chance to bring in children and spouses. “Other people from other nations will now be asking themselves: will we be next?” Babalola says.
A rise in conventional immigration, though, will not be the only effect of the new ban. To some, it appears tailor-made to induce Nigerians who land in the U.S. to enter Canada using the Roxham Road method—walking in and seeking asylum. They won’t be able to immigrate to Trump’s country, but they can get tourist visas to fly to New York and head straight to the Quebec-New York border, as thousands of Nigerians already have. The new policy will foreclose their option of seeking asylum in the United States.
But asylum claims by Nigerians dipped last year after efforts by Canadian and American officials to curb the pattern, and many of those who still choose the route are bound for disappointment. Only one-third of Nigerian refugee claims are being accepted by Canadian adjudicators, far lower than the typical success rate for asylum seekers, according to the most recent Immigration and Refugee Board data analysed by York University law professor Sean Rehaag. More than 10,000 more claimants from Nigeria await their hearings in a badly backlogged system.
Qualified professionals would have far more certainty coming in through the Express Entry, Babalola says. They and their relatives outnumber the number of Nigerians trying to move here as refugees. And thanks to the latest bit of migration upheaval the U.S. president has wrought, we can expect more of Africa’s best and brightest to boost the Canadian economy and plug our skills shortages.
By Jason Markusoff
Macleans
Nigerians in limbo after Trump adds Nigeria to US travel ban list
Ikenna is in a bind. On the one hand, the US green card holder has been advised not to travel outside the United States for a year to avoid the risk of failing to meet the eligibility criteria for citizenship. On the other hand, his newly wedded wife in Nigeria cannot visit him. She had applied for a tourist visa days before the US suspended a "drop box" procedure in May 2019 that allowed frequent visitors to reapply without being subjected to the interview process - but her application was denied.
The healthcare professional said his wife was told that since she was married to a permanent resident, he should file an immigrant visa application on her behalf instead. As such, Ikenna quit his job in Nigeria's capital, Abuja, and relocated to the US in late July to begin the process. In the meantime, his spouse applied for a business visa in October to no avail.
And now things have become even more complicated.
Last week, the White House said immigrants from Nigeria and five other countries will no longer be eligible for visas allowing them to live in the US permanently, expanding its controversial travel ban policy. A presidential proclamation on January 31 cited Nigeria's failure to comply with security and information sharing requirements, and its high "terror" risk to the US as reasons for imposing the restriction.
"I filed for her (immigrant visa application) in November and now the ban has been announced," says a frustrated Ikenna. "I've been a beneficiary of the long, tedious, nebulous process to obtain my legal permanent residence, and now I'm experiencing the same process to get the visa for my wife."
He remains unconvinced about the ban, arguing non-immigrant visa applicants were less scrutinised and therefore more of a threat to US security than those applying for immigrant visas.
"The [US government] is not just punishing Nigerians," he said about the travel restrictions, scheduled to come into effect on February 21. "They're punishing American citizens," he added, referring to the thousands of other Nigerians processing immigrant visas for their immediate family members in Nigeria.
That sentiment also rings true for Chienye, a product marketing manager who is currently petitioning for an immigrant visa for his mother in Nigeria. He feels the ban is unfair and infringes on his rights as a US citizen.
"Melania Trump herself used the same immigration method to bring her parents to the United States," he said of the wide of US President Donald Trump. "That's one of the luxuries of being a citizen. You can extend that and bring close family members to come be with you here."
A citizen since 2018, 37-year-old Chienye says he was excited about bringing his mother over as she has never visited in the 15 years he has lived in the US, first in Minnesota and then Washington states. It was something he had hoped to change now that he was financially solvent to pay for her trip.
"My mum is getting old and I want to bring her here to relax and enjoy herself even if it's for a few months."
While non-immigrant visa applicants remain unaffected, Nigerian student Onyinye is worried about the ban's knock-on effect. The mother of two is completing her nursing prerequisites in Maryland.
"I don't want a situation where I have to renew my papers and can't because of the ban," she said, speculating on the possibility the US government might unofficially limit the numbers of student visa issued to Nigerians. "I just don't want to be undocumented here."
In 2018, Nigerians were issued a total of 7,922 immigrant visas, the second highest among African nations. Over half of that number went to immediate relatives of US citizens. Incidentally, following visa fee hikes and suspension of the interview waiver Drop Box application last year, applications for non-immigrant visas dropped by 21 percent.
Approximately 30,000 Nigerians overstayed their non-immigrant visa in 2018, making them the third-largest defaulters behind Venezuelans and Brazilians, according to data from the US Department of Homeland Security. Some insist this may have informed the recent restrictions. Others maintain the ban is a ploy to further curtail the number Nigerians coming to the US.
"I think the Trump administration is trying to limit immigration from black and brown countries," argued Chienye, adding most Nigerians in the US are educated and dismissing the security reasons cited for the move.
"The only reason Trump is banning Nigerians is that he doesn't want black immigrants in the United States, and Nigerians make up a huge portion," he said.
For Onyinye, the right to live and work legally in the US supersedes the possibility of acquiring citizenship in the long run. And though she counts herself fortunate that her husband and children live with her, she wishes she could bring her mother over.
"If that's not possible, I'll have to work more so I can visit Nigeria to see her more often," she said before acknowledging the ban might prevent her from re-entering the US. "Until that's cleared up, I guess no trips for me."
According to immigration lawyer Leila Mansouri, who has handled cases for Iranians and Iranian Americans affected by the 2017 Muslim ban that restricted travellers from Iran and several other Muslim-majority countries, the text of the recent travel ban is not clear on whether Nigerians with non-immigrant visas are barred from applying for permanent residency.
"Based on how the [US government] handled it for Iranians, I think that [Nigerians] already in the US will be able to naturalise or get married and adjust their status," she said, adding that those who leave the US might find it difficult to re-enter.
Last week, the Nigerian government announced it had established a committee to address the updated requirements. On Tuesday, Nigeria's Foreign Affairs Minister Geoffrey Onyeama appeared in a joint news conference in Washington with US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, stating Nigeria had been "blindsided with the announcement of the visa restrictions." He maintained, however, the country was in the process of fulfilling the demands and had already "ticked most of the boxes".
"Essentially, there were security measures that were taken with regards to electronic [and] lost and stolen passports," noted Onyeama, adding Nigeria was working to make data for the aforementioned and information on suspected terrorists available to the US and member countries of Interpol "very soon".
Like many in Nigeria and the US, Onyinye is hopeful both countries will reach a resolution.
"I reckon the ban will only be for a short time," she said.
By Shayera Dark
Al Jazeera
The healthcare professional said his wife was told that since she was married to a permanent resident, he should file an immigrant visa application on her behalf instead. As such, Ikenna quit his job in Nigeria's capital, Abuja, and relocated to the US in late July to begin the process. In the meantime, his spouse applied for a business visa in October to no avail.
And now things have become even more complicated.
Last week, the White House said immigrants from Nigeria and five other countries will no longer be eligible for visas allowing them to live in the US permanently, expanding its controversial travel ban policy. A presidential proclamation on January 31 cited Nigeria's failure to comply with security and information sharing requirements, and its high "terror" risk to the US as reasons for imposing the restriction.
"I filed for her (immigrant visa application) in November and now the ban has been announced," says a frustrated Ikenna. "I've been a beneficiary of the long, tedious, nebulous process to obtain my legal permanent residence, and now I'm experiencing the same process to get the visa for my wife."
He remains unconvinced about the ban, arguing non-immigrant visa applicants were less scrutinised and therefore more of a threat to US security than those applying for immigrant visas.
"The [US government] is not just punishing Nigerians," he said about the travel restrictions, scheduled to come into effect on February 21. "They're punishing American citizens," he added, referring to the thousands of other Nigerians processing immigrant visas for their immediate family members in Nigeria.
That sentiment also rings true for Chienye, a product marketing manager who is currently petitioning for an immigrant visa for his mother in Nigeria. He feels the ban is unfair and infringes on his rights as a US citizen.
"Melania Trump herself used the same immigration method to bring her parents to the United States," he said of the wide of US President Donald Trump. "That's one of the luxuries of being a citizen. You can extend that and bring close family members to come be with you here."
A citizen since 2018, 37-year-old Chienye says he was excited about bringing his mother over as she has never visited in the 15 years he has lived in the US, first in Minnesota and then Washington states. It was something he had hoped to change now that he was financially solvent to pay for her trip.
"My mum is getting old and I want to bring her here to relax and enjoy herself even if it's for a few months."
While non-immigrant visa applicants remain unaffected, Nigerian student Onyinye is worried about the ban's knock-on effect. The mother of two is completing her nursing prerequisites in Maryland.
"I don't want a situation where I have to renew my papers and can't because of the ban," she said, speculating on the possibility the US government might unofficially limit the numbers of student visa issued to Nigerians. "I just don't want to be undocumented here."
In 2018, Nigerians were issued a total of 7,922 immigrant visas, the second highest among African nations. Over half of that number went to immediate relatives of US citizens. Incidentally, following visa fee hikes and suspension of the interview waiver Drop Box application last year, applications for non-immigrant visas dropped by 21 percent.
Approximately 30,000 Nigerians overstayed their non-immigrant visa in 2018, making them the third-largest defaulters behind Venezuelans and Brazilians, according to data from the US Department of Homeland Security. Some insist this may have informed the recent restrictions. Others maintain the ban is a ploy to further curtail the number Nigerians coming to the US.
"I think the Trump administration is trying to limit immigration from black and brown countries," argued Chienye, adding most Nigerians in the US are educated and dismissing the security reasons cited for the move.
"The only reason Trump is banning Nigerians is that he doesn't want black immigrants in the United States, and Nigerians make up a huge portion," he said.
For Onyinye, the right to live and work legally in the US supersedes the possibility of acquiring citizenship in the long run. And though she counts herself fortunate that her husband and children live with her, she wishes she could bring her mother over.
"If that's not possible, I'll have to work more so I can visit Nigeria to see her more often," she said before acknowledging the ban might prevent her from re-entering the US. "Until that's cleared up, I guess no trips for me."
According to immigration lawyer Leila Mansouri, who has handled cases for Iranians and Iranian Americans affected by the 2017 Muslim ban that restricted travellers from Iran and several other Muslim-majority countries, the text of the recent travel ban is not clear on whether Nigerians with non-immigrant visas are barred from applying for permanent residency.
"Based on how the [US government] handled it for Iranians, I think that [Nigerians] already in the US will be able to naturalise or get married and adjust their status," she said, adding that those who leave the US might find it difficult to re-enter.
Last week, the Nigerian government announced it had established a committee to address the updated requirements. On Tuesday, Nigeria's Foreign Affairs Minister Geoffrey Onyeama appeared in a joint news conference in Washington with US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, stating Nigeria had been "blindsided with the announcement of the visa restrictions." He maintained, however, the country was in the process of fulfilling the demands and had already "ticked most of the boxes".
"Essentially, there were security measures that were taken with regards to electronic [and] lost and stolen passports," noted Onyeama, adding Nigeria was working to make data for the aforementioned and information on suspected terrorists available to the US and member countries of Interpol "very soon".
Like many in Nigeria and the US, Onyinye is hopeful both countries will reach a resolution.
"I reckon the ban will only be for a short time," she said.
By Shayera Dark
Al Jazeera
Thursday, February 6, 2020
Video - Some Nigerian businesses affected by coronavirus outbreak
With China being one of Nigeria's biggest trading partners, there are concerns that the Nigerian economy could take a big hit as a result of the Coronavirus outbreak. Some businesses are already being affected, as CGTN's Deji Badmus reports.
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
Living with dementia in Nigeria
Leaning on her four-wheeled walker, she would try to manoeuvre herself around the house as someone, usually her daughter-in-law Victoria, accompanied her, watching, guiding, removing objects from her path.
Three years before she lost her leg, in 2010, Elizabeth fled religious rioting in northwestern Nigeria after receiving threats that her house and grocery store would be burned down. Seeking safety, she moved to Ibadan to live with one of her six sons and his family.
She loved telling her four grandsons stories about life in Ghana, where she was born and lived with her parents until 1969 when Ghana's then-prime minister, Kofi Busia, passed the Aliens Compliance Order, forcing African migrants - many of them Nigerian, like Elizabeth's parents - to leave.
Now 66, Elizabeth still enjoys telling stories about her life back in Ghana. The boys sit around her in their living room in Alarere, Ibadan, listening attentively and chipping in with anecdotes of their own as she remembers the school she attended, the friends she had.
"They [Ghanaians] are nice people. They show love," she says in Ashante Twi, before translating it to English.
A smile spreads across Elizabeth's face as she eases herself onto the brown sofa, holding a small radio to her belly.
"She remembers things from long ago. All others are pockets of memory," Victoria Mustafa explains gently.
'Where am I?'
The Mustafas live on a neat, quiet compound. The white-walled living room is punctuated by cream curtains that drape the windows and the entrance to the passageway leading to the bedrooms.
Victoria says this was where they were sitting a few years ago, shortly after the amputation, when Elizabeth suddenly asked: "Where am I? What am I doing here? What's the name of this town?"
Some mornings, Elizabeth would hold a tube of toothpaste for minutes, staring at it, before finally asking what it was used for. There were times when she could not remember the names of her relatives.
"We were thinking, 'What's this? What's going on?' We didn't understand what was happening," says 42-year-old Victoria, who is wearing a purple shirt - the official colour of the Alzheimer's awareness movement.
Victoria, who is from Kaduna, first met her future mother-in-law in 2004, two years before she married her son and moved to Ibadan.
"She was active and loved to tell stories," she recalls.
The change seemed sudden. Initially, the family assumed she was seeking ways to cope with the loss of her leg. Then they grew irritated with her.
"We thought she was just being difficult," Victoria says.
It was when she started to wake in the middle of the night, struggling to reach her walker, demanding that the door be unlocked so that she could go and open her grocery store, that they realised something was wrong.
'A pathology of the brain'
Victoria and her husband took Elizabeth to the University College Hospital, Ibadan (UCH), where they were referred to a psychiatrist.
The psychiatrist treated her for depression. But, says Victoria, "after a long time, she was still not well".
They took her to the hospital again in 2016 and, three years after she first started showing signs of confusion, Elizabeth was diagnosed with dementia.
"I had never heard of dementia," Victoria says.
Dr Temitope Farombi, a consultant geriatric neurologist at the Chief Tony Anenih Geriatric Centre at UCH, explains that relatives often assume that the early signs of dementia - confusion, irritability, difficulty performing familiar tasks and memory loss - are just normal signs of ageing.
But, Farombi says, "ageing is a physiological process, while dementia is a pathology of the brain. It presents in the form of memory loss and behavioural abnormalities".
The doctor sits at her desk in her office, explaining that issues affecting older people are rarely reported.
"Early diagnosis helps stall other associated risk factors that could accelerate the progression of dementia," Farombi explains, adding that "meditation can help improve cognition".
Farombi started working with dementia patients in 2015. She says she looks for signs, like an inability to remember the name of an object (asking for a thing that is used for eating, for example, but not recalling the word 'spoon'), going to the mall with a shopping list and coming back with nothing, or driving to an event but returning in a taxi.
Other symptoms include difficulty processing instructions, confusion about time or place, being suspicious of people around them, and depression, she explains. People in the later stages of dementia can experience bowel and bladder incontinence and an inability to communicate. "And at the end, you see them bedbound, severely dependent on people," Farombi says.
A healthy lifestyle and diet can help to reduce susceptibility to dementia, the doctor explains, but "no drug can reverse it".
The challenge of geriatric care
Love and support from family and early medical intervention can help improve the living standards of people with dementia, says Olayinka Ajomale, a consultant geriatric social worker and the executive director of the Centre on Ageing, Development and the Rights of Older Persons in Ibadan. But, says Ajomale, geriatric care is at an early stage in Nigeria.
UCH is the only hospital in Nigeria with a full-fledged geriatric care centre.
Every year, experts in different aspects of gerontology are invited to conduct training sessions for doctors from across the country at the UCH's geriatric care centre. "All tertiary institutions should have centres like this, not just units," says Ajomale.
In September last year, the federal government announced a plan to establish six regional geriatric centres in tertiary hospitals.
Globally, the number of people living with dementia is currently estimated at 50 million. The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that by 2050, 80 percent of those aged 60 and over will be residing in low-and-middle-income countries where there is limited access to geriatric care and support such as adequate facilities and trained personnel.
There is a shortage of data on dementia in Nigeria but the data that exists suggests the number of cases has grown dramatically.
"It's [dementia] increasing but there is no increasing expertise," Farombi reflects.
The caregivers
It is not just those suffering from dementia who carry the burden of the disease. The stress it puts on caregivers is also a concern.
"It can be frustrating, repeating the same thing over and over again and the person does not remember," says Victoria. "It takes a toll."
As Elizabeth's primary caregiver, Victoria is responsible for her welfare, including checking her blood sugar at least twice a week, ensuring that the doors in the house are open for ease of movement and that there are no objects around with which she could harm herself.
Every morning, after the family say their prayers in the living room, Elizabeth goes to the bathroom. There is a slab on which she sits and then gently manoeuvres into the bath. Victoria tells Elizabeth to raise her arms and wash them, and she does. She tells her to wash her legs, and she does. She helps pour water over her body. Sometimes they sing, sometimes they laugh about an old memory. When she is finished, Elizabeth is helped out of the bathtub, her walker is passed to her and she slowly makes her way into the bedroom to get dressed.
"It limits the kind of work I can do," Victoria says. "I can't leave her on her own. I have to be back home to ensure she takes lunch."
For flexibility, Victoria works selling bedsheets from her car boot, often delivering them to her customers in their homes or offices.
She is also a member of the Dementia Caregivers Association in Ibadan. There are about 30 members, although only 15 usually attend their monthly meetings. The vast majority are women. The group share their challenges and offer advice on how to best care for their loved ones.
Sometimes, Victoria says, a new person comes and talks about how they started praying and fasting when their relative started to show signs of dementia, believing that there was a spiritual cause for the change. When they discover that there are others going through the same thing, they shed tears of relief, Victoria explains. "There is a sense of belonging," she adds, solemnly.
"We just don't treat the patients, we also treat the caregivers," explains Farombi, who usually attends the gatherings. "The meetings make their burden lighter. It also gives them a sense of responsibility. They go out and talk to people about dementia."
'Until the battery runs out'
Before the dementia, Elizabeth enjoyed attending social events, spending time with her sons in different parts of the country and playing a leading role in her church. But the disease has changed all that.
The radio has now become one of her regular companions and her window into the world. "Sometimes she listens until the battery runs out," Victoria explains.
Elizabeth picks up the radio that has been sitting in her lap. "Why is it not on?" she asks, fumbling with the buttons.
"It's dead, Mama," answers Victoria. "There's no light to charge it now."
The youngest of Elizabeth's grandsons - a four-year-old with a near-permanent smile - goes to his grandmother's side and begins to tickle her.
Then he begins singing the times table, and she joins in. When the boy's knowledge has been exhausted, Elizabeth continues.
"That's what they do," Victoria laughs. "The children talk to her, play with her."
The oldest, who is 12, admits that it can be frustrating when Grandma wakes up in the middle of the night and starts banging on her bed frame.
At this admission, they all break out in laughter, including Elizabeth.
Elder abuse
Caring for elders involves more than healthcare, and elder abuse is a very real spectre that hangs over patients and those who care for them.
Ajomale speaks passionately about the issue, which is "not just beating, but pushing, shoving, pulling them forcefully," he says, his eyes widening as he recalls cases he has encountered over 20 years of social work.
"Some caregivers, children, and grandchildren do this … there's usually an element of trust between the abuser and the older person."
The abuse can be verbal, psychological, physical and sexual, he explains, although he says the most common form is physical.
"Most of them (elders with dementia) do repeat stories and people tend to shut them up. That's emotional abuse," he says.
There have even been instances of people with HIV raping elderly women, believing that this would cleanse their blood, he says.
Taking elderly individuals away from an environment they are used to and where they have friends, in order to live with relatives elsewhere, can also be harmful. Often, they will be left alone for long stretches of time, with only the television for company, he says. "That is psychological abuse. How do you want them to cope? At the end of the day, they fall into depression."
Ajomale is also concerned about abuse in hospitals and says that some health practitioners believe it is a waste to spend their limited resources on caring for those who will soon die anyway.
Nigeria has no functional national policy governing age discrimination or elderly welfare. A policy was proposed in March 2003, but it has remained in draft form ever since.
"What made it fail is that it placed too much emphasis on health," Ajomale explains. "Meanwhile there are other challenges faced by older persons. A policy should be encompassing."
There was another effort in 2007 that also failed. Ajomale was one of those who drafted the bill.
"But there's another one in the pipeline," he says, adding that several ministeries were involved in drafting it. "It has passed the second reading. We have been told to fine-tune it so it's implementable in all regions of the country."
Shame, love and medication
A culture of shame remains around dementia in Nigeria. One of the many misconceptions is that people living with dementia are witches.
"We have seen cases where old women were openly beaten or stoned," says Farombi, "they are pressured to say they are witches."
Deeply concerned by this, she started the Dementia not Witchcraft Campaign, a series of lectures targeted at different groups in Ibadan.
For a year after Elizabeth's diagnosis, she visited the hospital every two weeks for monitoring. There has been an improvement since she was first diagnosed and now she is only required to go every few months.
She can remember what toothpaste is used for now and no longer wakes up in the night to go to the grocery store she used to run decades ago. She can also communicate her feelings.
"If she's hungry, she will say it," says Victoria, adding: "The drugs have really helped."
Elizabeth's favourite food is amala. "Amala and fish," adds one of the boys. "Amala pokipoki," Elizabeth says, and everyone laughs.
"[Our] communication changed, the aggression was removed, we showed her more love," says Victoria. "It's still tasking, but the emotional pressure is no longer the way it used to be."
Elizabeth looks at the radio on her lap for a moment. She then takes it to her ear. "Why is it not working?"
"Because it's dead," Victoria reminds her. "No light to charge it now."
"I'm hungry," Elizabeth announces. Within minutes, Victoria places a plate of amala and ewedu before her. "The most important things," Victoria concludes "are medication and love."
By Kemi Falodun
Al Jazeera
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