Nigeria snakebite crisis: Why singer Nwangene's death is a wake-up call

A young singer who attained celebrity status after appearing on The Voice Nigeria in 2021 was asleep in her Abuja apartment last weekend when the unthinkable happened. A cobra somehow slithered into her home and bit her.

Ifunanya Nwangene, just 26, was dead within hours. Not just from the cobra venom coursing through her bloodstream, but also a health system that failed to respond to the emergency. The first hospital she rushed to allegedly had no antivenom.

Videos circulating on social media afterwards showed a snake handler removing the reptile from her apartment as terrified residents screamed "It's a cobra!" in the background.

Ifunanya had won admirers with her vocal range across jazz, opera, classical music, and soul. The singer, an architect by training, had been preparing for her first solo concert later this year.

Her death has forced Nigerians to confront an uncomfortable truth: snakebite remains a neglected public health emergency, and treatment gaps continue to cost lives even in the national capital.

Overlooked crisis

Nigeria records roughly 20,000 snakebite cases each year, according to health ministry estimates from 2021. Around 2,000 of this result in fatalities, while more than 1,700 survivors suffer amputations or permanent disabilities.

Experts say the crisis has been quietly worsening, receiving little sustained policy attention until high-profile tragedies briefly bring it into focus.

Nigerian herpetologist Dr Abubakar Balla believes that systemic weaknesses in treatment access have been building for years.

"Snakebite is a medical emergency, yet treatment gaps keep widening," Balla tells TRT Afrika. "One major issue is the quality and suitability of antivenom available in Nigeria. The country has been flooded with antivenom imported from India, but antivenom works best when it is designed for snake species found in the local region."

Using antivenom developed from non-indigenous species weakens treatment outcomes, he explains.

"We do not have Indian snake species here. So, when antivenom is not matched to local venom types, its effectiveness can be reduced against severe envenoming."

The government hospital where Ifunanya died has contested allegations about antivenom being unavailable as "unfounded".

Continental problem

Snakebite remains a serious but under-reported health threat across Sub-Saharan Africa. Estimates suggest up to one million people are bitten each year in the region, with between 7,000 and 20,000 deaths recorded annually. Figures are difficult to collate with some degree of accuracy due to weak reporting systems and cases that never reach hospitals.

In West Africa alone, snakebite deaths are estimated between 3,500 and 5,400 annually. At one Nigerian hospital, 6,687 snakebites were treated in just three years. In Burkina Faso, 114,126 snakebites were reported nationally over five years (2010–2014), according to the World Health Organisation (WHO).

In Nigeria, the carpet viper accounts for nearly 90% of snakebites and around 60% of fatalities, the Nigerian ministry of health reported in 2021.

Surprisingly, hospitals in high-risk areas often struggle to maintain antivenom stock.

"Antivenom is expensive and has a limited shelf life," Balla tells TRT Afrika. "Hospitals sometimes hesitate to stock large quantities because doses may expire unused. Many victims in rural communities first seek traditional treatment, believing it to be cheaper or more accessible. So, hospitals end up discarding expired stock and not restocking."

But even this does not explain facilities that simply have no antivenom at all. Friends of Ifunanya told local media that the first private hospital she visited advised her to seek treatment elsewhere, citing unavailability of antivenom.

Deadly delays

For Balla, urgent reforms must begin with medical training and preparedness.

"Doctors, regardless of specialty, especially in areas where snakebites are common, must be retrained and made ready to stabilise snakebite patients immediately," he says. "Modern snakebite treatment should be integrated into medical school training, and continuous professional training is necessary to build expertise."

Balla also argues that Nigeria must revive investment in local antivenom research and production to ensure snakebite treatments specific to local species.

"Primary health centres in areas where snakes are present – even if cases are few – should be required to stock antivenom and have trained personnel to administer it," he says. "This should be backed by law so that treatment is available when emergencies happen."

WHO found out that limited access to safe and effective antivenom treatment across many regions, particularly Sub-Saharan Africa, drives many victims towards traditional medicine.

Poor infrastructure, poverty, cultural practices and weak emergency systems all contribute to delays in reaching proper care. Many victims first consult traditional healers before going to hospital while others cannot access transport quickly enough. Some die before ever reaching the nearest medical facility.

Balla warns that the widespread belief that snakebites only occur in rural areas can be dangerously misleading.

"As we saw in the tragic case of Ifunanya, snakes can enter homes even in cities," he says. "Many urban centres today were once forest or bushland. As habitats are destroyed or altered, snakes are displaced and increasingly come into contact with humans. Flower gardens and the high rodent population in many cities attract snakes."

WHO has repeatedly warned that snakebite envenoming should no longer be treated as a neglected health problem.

For many Nigerians, Ifunanya's death has shattered the assumption that snakebites are distant rural dangers and exposed a lethal gap in emergency preparedness.