Ebola is not just a health emergency. It’s a test of public trust, and Nigerians have questions

Experts say Ebola isn’t just a health emergency; it’s a test of public trust. And I want you to hear that sentence in the voice of every Nigerian parent who ever said, “We’ll see how you behave when I’m not looking.” Because that’s exactly what this is. A test. And we are the class that has been failing government-issued tests since 1999.

Here’s the problem. When the authorities say, “There’s no confirmed case in Nigeria, please stay calm,” half the country hears, “Do not panic,” while the other half hears, “Panic quietly.” Nobody has told us the difference. We’ve been reassured before, and “we have it under control” is the phrase that arrived just before the light went out, the fuel got scarce, and the exchange rate decided to try gymnastics.

Meanwhile, the real health authority in this country is not a ministry. It’s the WhatsApp group. Last week, a very confident forward told me that the cure for Ebola is hot water, salt, bitter leaf and “faith.” The sender had no medical training, no source, and eleven blue ticks. It ended with “Please share to save lives,” which is the clearest sign that it will cost somebody’s life.

And here’s what makes trust so important. In an outbreak, the person who tells you where to go, what to avoid, and when to seek help must be believed. If people don’t trust the nurse, they stay at home. If they don’t trust the hospital, they pray at home. If they don’t trust the official statement, they follow the forwarded message. Trust isn’t a decoration. It’s the first piece of equipment.

So the government has a simple job: don’t just tell us to calm down, show us. Show us that the screening works. Show us the labs are stocked. Show us the health workers are paid and protected, because the person who protects you from the outbreak is the same person who hasn’t seen a salary in three months. A system cannot ask for trust while keeping the receipts hidden.

And citizens, let’s hold up our end too. Don’t forward unverified messages. Wash your hands properly, with soap, not with sarcasm. Report symptoms to the proper authorities, and avoid contact with the bodily fluids of anyone who looks unwell. Let’s save the jokes for the group chat, and the facts for the family.

Because here’s the funny thing about trust: it’s the one resource we can’t import, borrow, or print. It’s earned slowly, spent quickly, and refilled only when somebody finally does what they said they would.

So, dear government, we’re not asking for miracles. We’re asking for honesty, working equipment, and a statement that survives until Friday.

That would be a very good start.