The War Against Counterfeit Medicine: My Story

Prologue

xxix PROLOGUE MYLIFE WAS PREPAREDAND PRESERVED FOR THIS JOB Asa child,I never thought ofstudyingpharmacy.Inthe early1970sinNigeria,medicine andlaw were popular career choices for young people aspiring to enter a university for higher education. It was the vogue for students with excellent WestAfrican School Certificate (WASC) results in the sciences to study medicine.As a science major, my first choice was medicine, and that was what my family desired for me. I performed very well in theWASC examination and passed with a Grade One distinction. However, there was a problem as far as I was concerned, the curriculum for medicine had very little mathematics and chemistry, which were my favourite subjects. I had briefly considered studying mathematics as single honours but soon discarded the idea. Nevertheless, I still yearned for a course that would give me the opportunity to continue with mathematics and chemistry. This was how I chose pharmacy, a course that prepared me for the journey that led me to the position of the Director General of Nigeria’s NationalAgency for Food and DrugAdministration and Control (NAFDAC). The law that set up NAFDAC states that the Director General “…shall be a person with good knowledge of pharmacy, food and drugs”. At the end of my first year in the University of Nigeria Nsukka (UNN), I was at the top of my class and won the Kingsway Prize for the best first year student. Once more, I was pressured to change over to medicine. Grudgingly, I agreed and approached Prof. James Ezeilo, the then Vice-Chancellor of the UNN, who gave me a note to the Dean of the College of Medicine, Prof. Udekwu. On reading the note, Prof. Udekwu exclaimed: “In the whole medical school, there is onlyonefirstyearresultthatisasgoodasyoursbutunfortunately,admissionsfortransfershave closed.” However, with my outstanding performance and the weight of Prof. Ezeilo’s note, he resolved to give me a chance. “Come on Friday,” he said. “Let’s see what can be done.” I never went back to see him, and I had no good reason for not doing so. Life in the Village I was born on July 14, 1954 in Makurdi, a city in the northern part of Nigeria, to Chief Paul Young Edemobi and Mrs Grace Udemehie Edemobi both deceased. My father was a very successful businessman, contractor and an influential politician. He built most of the government facilities in Makurdi in the 1950s and 1960s. He was also the conservancy contractor for the whole province. My father was so wealthy that in the early 1960s he used to charter an aircraft to travel from Kano to Makurdi. He was a philanthropist and sponsored academic education or vocationaltrainingformostofhiskin. Life in Makurdi was beautiful.We lived in the upper-middle-class area of the city.As a little girl, I was always at the top of my class. Due to my performance in school, my father exempted me fromallhouseholdchores,insistingthatIshouldnotbedistractedfrommystudies.Hispopular saying was: “Dora’s brain will earn her cooks and stewards.” This favouritism did not go down well with my mother and my siblings. They became very uncomfortable, fearing that I would end up being a spoilt child. Consequently, they “conspired” and convinced my father to send me to Isuofia, a village in the south-eastern part of Nigeria, to live with my maternal grandmother, Mrs Mgbeke Lucy Okoli, and my uncle, Mr Romanus Okoli, a renowned village teacher. My father, believingthatteacherswerethebestattrainingchildren,succumbedtotheconspiracy.InDecember 1963, when I was a little over nine, I was whisked off to the village to start a new life. It was a culture shock to me. GrowingupinIsuofiawasverydifficultforme.Thevillagewasdevoidofallbasicsocialamenities like potable water, electricity and toilet facilities. Children in the cities were better off because they had access to basic modern facilities. Those born and brought up in the village did not know any better and so did not feel the loss. It was, however, hard for a child like me who started life inthecity,incomparativeluxury,toadjust.IusedtocryeverydayuntilIgotusedtovillagelife. xxx xxxi I attended primary 4 to 6 in the village.Atypical day started at dawn, when I had to trek for miles to fetch water from the stream, navigating through winding, narrow, slippery and risky paths, ravaged by gully erosion.At this time of the day, the path was pitch dark, with occasional streaks of moonlight for illumination. On some occasions, I would come back from the streamfrustrated and in tears, without water, having stumbled along the rough terrain and broken my...