When news broke that fast-rising singer Ifunanya had died after a snake bite, the story spread quickly—and painfully—across social media. Many described it as heartbreaking. Others called it mysterious. Some even framed it as spiritual.
But for Dr. Chinonso Egemba, widely known as Aproko Doctor, the tragedy was neither mysterious nor spiritual. It was familiar. And it was preventable.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the story about the lady who was bitten by a snake and later died,” he wrote. “It is heartbreaking. But what if the snake was not what killed her?”
Snakes bite people every day—in cities and villages, across Africa, Asia, Australia, and beyond. In most cases, victims survive. Death after a snake bite, especially after seeking help from two hospitals, should not be normal in 2026.
Yet, Ifunanya died.
According to Aproko Doctor, the problem was not the absence of medicine in the world. Nigeria has a locally produced snake antivenom, Egitap, developed specifically for Nigerian snake species. The problem was that it was not available in the hospitals she visited.
“That is what systemic neglect looks like,” he said.
In Nigeria, politicians proudly commission flyovers and gleaming buildings, while ambulances are scarce and primary healthcare centres—the first and most critical point of care—are ignored. Ultra-modern hospitals are celebrated, but the basic facilities that save lives in emergencies are left underfunded, understaffed, and unequipped.
“In a country where snakes live,” Aproko Doctor stressed, “every basic hospital should have antivenom, oxygen, and trained hands.”
Instead, families are told, plainly and helplessly: “We do not have antivenom.”
As grief poured in for the young singer, another narrative also emerged—claims that her death was caused by a “spiritual snake.” To Aproko Doctor, this response is not just wrong; it is dangerous.
“That is why people keep dying quietly,” he warned. “That is why bright futures are cut short.”
When society explains systemic failure with superstition, accountability disappears. When hospitals are not questioned, nothing changes. And when nothing changes, the next victim is already waiting.
Ifunanya’s death has now become more than a personal tragedy. It is a mirror held up to Nigeria’s healthcare system—revealing gaps that cost lives, not in theory, but in reality.
“It was not the snake,” Aproko Doctor concluded.
“It was the system.”
And until that system is fixed, the silence after such deaths will remain as deadly as the venom itself.
