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One striking element of the spread of the coronavirus around the world has been the relatively slow rise in the number of confirmed cases in Africa. Nigeria, the continent’s most populous

nation had, by Sunday, registered 40 positive cases and one death, in a nation of over 200 million people. And now it is bracing for the exponential rises that have been seen elsewhere. The

first was an Italian national who flew into Lagos, the overcrowded home to at least 20 million people. The second case had been in contact with the first. Both have since recovered and are

free of the virus. The third case had returned after a brief trip to the UK. The low numbers have baffled experts. But Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, Director-General of the World Health

Organization (WHO) has warned that Africa must “wake up” to the coronavirus threat and prepare for the worst. The Nigerian authorities are trying to reassure people. Nollywood film stars are

fronting infomercials. Celebrities turned up to a glitzy awards ceremony in jewelled face masks. Billboards advise people to wash their hands and on what to do when they sneeze or cough. 

But it hasn’t stopped fear spreading in a country that’s all too used to dealing with deadly diseases, such as Ebola or Lassa fever. There are now over 1,000 cases of Covid-19 across Africa,

but a community spread appears to be starting. Nigeria has now closed its airports to international flights for one month, but local flights continue. It’s a move that locks down the

country, but some fear it came too late. Entry has been restricted for people from countries including the UK, US and China, whose state-run engineering firms are heavily involved in

building Nigerian infrastructure. Nigeria’s former Vice President Atiku Abubakar on Sunday confirmed that his son was being treated in hospital in Abuja after testing positive for Covid-19.

“Stay safe, coronavirus is real,” he said on social media. But one former government official warned of a false sense of hope among Nigerians that the help that came during Ebola would come

again. She warned that, as so many countries battle the disease, help is unlikely to come this time. “OYO,” she wrote. On your own. As European countries speed up the production of

ventilators for intensive care units, Nigeria lacks regular electrical power to keep what few ventilators they have breathing oxygen into patients’ lungs. “Ebola and Lassa fever have

prepared people well,” said Sandra Ezekwesili, a Lagos radio talk-show host.  Nevertheless, she fears people continue not to take Covid-19 seriously. “Myths like ‘black people don’t get it’

and ‘it doesn’t survive in the tropics’ are making the rounds,” she says. Some of her callers support preachers who declare believers in God won’t get infected. Others have said they believe

the government is lying. Nigeria thrives off communication, especially through platforms like WhatsApp. Currently, there’s a barrage of misinformation landing in peoples inboxes and on

their smart phones, spreading rumours of supposed cures and unscientific advice about the new deadly pandemic. Some messages talk about planes and helicopters set to take off and use aerial

spraying to kill the virus. Others claim to be selling a cure for Covid-19 using the anti-malaria drug chloroquine phosphate. The authorities have been forced to issue a warning about

self-prescribing drugs for Covid-19 treatment, after a reported surge in Nigerians buying chloroquine. There have been cases of overdosing following claims from President Trump that the drug

had been approved in the United States to treat the virus. But it hasn’t. In Nigeria, people are gripped by fear of the virus spreading in such a vast population, most of whom live in

overcrowded, unsanitary conditions. The idea of individual self-isolation, quarantine or “social distanceing” is a difficult task in places like teeming Lagos. For years, Bola has had the

same morning routine. She usually leaves home at about 4am to travel to work as an office cleaner. She climbs aboard a tightly packed “danfo” — the battered yellow minibuses that transport

millions of Lagosians to and from home — squeezing in alongside dozens of others for a sweaty, uncomfortable ride. All she can do is wash her hands when she finally gets to work several

hours later — and that’s if running water is available. Often it is not. For Bola and millions of daily wage earners like her, there are no alternatives. Staying off work means no money. No

money means no food to feed her family or cash to pay the rent. With malaria endemic — and its symptoms similar to Covid-19 — some have suggested that cases could be going undetected. It’s

common to hear people saying they have “a touch of malaria”, or even typhoid. There have also been suggestions that the low volume of international arrivals in the country, compared with

Europe, has helped keep the number of detected cases low. Dr Ngozi Onyia, who runs a private health clinic in Lagos, is not optimistic that the current situation will prevail. “We may just

be much further down the line,” she said. She thinks that Nigeria’s relative youth could be an advantage, as elsewhere in the world, the elderly have been worst hit by the outbreak.

Nigeria’s median age is 17.9. Poverty could be the biggest factor in the spread of the disease, she fears, as most Nigerians live on less than $2 a day, even as the country made billions

from oil production over the last five decades. A lack of clean water is a huge problem in promoting public hygiene. And while facemasks are starting to appear on the streets, hand sanitiser

is in short supply. But even if it were available, it is beyond the budget of most Nigerians. Lessons learned from the Ebola outbreak have seen the reintroduction of temperature checks at

airports and other points of entry. By the end of February, the NCDC activated its level three emergency response — its highest level. The WHO noted that within 48 hours of Nigeria’s first

case, a 100-bed isolation unit had been set up at a former psychiatric unit in Lagos. Nigeria won praise from the WHO for its response to Ebola, which killed more than 11,000 in West Africa,

mostly in Sierra Leone, Guinea and Liberia. Nigeria’s health authorities tweaked an existing emergency plan for a widespread polio outbreak, which was centred on stringent contact tracing,

and drafted in US experts. It also relied on the skill and courage of doctors such as Dr Stella Ameyo Adadevoh, who recognised the Ebola symptoms in a Liberian diplomat and physically

stopped him from leaving the hospital in Nigeria where he was being treated. She paid for her courage with her life. Had she not done so, the patient would have stepped out into the bustling

market outside her hospital, and the virus could have been spread rapidly via the interstate bus station on its doorstep. Swift action — and a dose of luck — then kept Nigeria’s Ebola

deaths in single figures. “May God save us. Quickly,” said one Lagos Doctor, Hugo Naijaman, who attended an online mass, via a social media feed this week after the authorities banned

religious gatherings of more than 50 worshippers. “God is in control!” said one friend as she hunted fruitlessly for hand sanitiser from one Lagos pharmacy to the next. The heel, knee and

elbow bump are back as familiar greetings of Nigerians instead of long, lingering handshakes and bearhugs. With food shops emptying quickly and prices for infrared thermometers trebling,

there is an uncertainty ahead, as well as fear that, should cases spiral, law and order could break down.