Omolara Akanni: Nigeria Must Elevate Cancer Care to National Health Priority

Following the rising rates of cancer-related deaths in Nigeria and growing concerns over inadequate awareness and early detection, Omolara Akanni, a data analyst with years of experience working across fintech and operations, has called for stronger national attention to cancer prevention and management. A Chemical Engineering graduate of the University of Lagos who conducted a Cancer Data Analysis in Nigeria from 2009 to 2016, Akanni spoke exclusively with Sunday Okobi on the causes and preventive measures against the spread of cancer and the urgent need for sustained awareness campaigns. Currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Data Analytics and Visualisation at Morgan State University, United States, her work focuses on translating complex datasets into practical insights that influence policy, business decisions, and public understanding 

From your data collection and analysis on cervical and prostate cancer in some states in Nigeria, what do you see or perceive as the causes of the disease?

My research focused on cancer cases reported across selected Nigerian states between 2009 and 2016. To be transparent, I approached this as a data analyst, not a medical practitioner. So, while the data clearly show where the burden is heaviest, the causes I will speak to are drawn from the medical research that informed my project. For cervical cancer, the leading cause is a persistent infection with the human papillomavirus, commonly known as HPV. Other contributing factors include early sexual activity, multiple sexual partners, smoking, and a weakened immune system. What stood out for me in the data is that Nigerian women between the ages of 45 and 60 were the most affected, which points to years of an undetected condition that a simple Pap smear could have caught much earlier. Prostate cancer, on the other hand, is closely tied to age, family history, and lifestyle factors such as obesity, a diet heavy in red and processed meats, and a sedentary routine. Men of African descent are also statistically more likely to develop it, and the data reflected this clearly: prostate cancer was the most diagnosed cancer in Nigerian men in my dataset, with the highest concentration between ages 65 and 75. Beyond the biological causes, I believe two cultural realities quietly fuel both diseases in Nigeria. The first is silence: women are rarely encouraged to talk openly about reproductive health, and men avoid prostate checks because of discomfort or pride. The second is access: vaccination, screening, and routine check-ups are still not part of everyday healthcare for most Nigerians. Cancer thrives in that silence and in that gap.

What is your suggestion on how the government, via the Ministry of Health and other public health agencies, can help curb the deadly disease?

The Ministry of Health and other public health agencies can move the needle significantly by treating cancer as a national priority rather than a niche health concern. The most practical place to start is prevention, and that means making it free and accessible. The HPV vaccine alone can prevent the vast majority of cervical cancers when administered to girls between the ages of 9 and 14. From the Instagram awareness survey I ran during this project, 53 percent of the women who responded had not received either the HPV or the cervical cancer vaccine. That is a wide gap, and it is one we can close. Free vaccination drives in schools and primary healthcare centres, alongside subsidised Pap smears for women and PSA tests for men over 50, would change the picture in a few years. The second priority is awareness, and the key is meeting people where they are. Information has to travel in local languages, on radio, on television, on social media, in markets, and in religious centres, not only in English-language journals or hospital posters. The government should also invest in updating the national cancer registry, because the dataset I worked with was from 2009 to 2016, and that was the most recent comprehensive public record I could find. We cannot fight what we are not measuring. Subsidising treatment, equipping more cancer centres across the six geopolitical zones, and training more oncologists would also mean that a diagnosis no longer automatically translates into financial ruin or hopelessness for the average Nigerian family.

As an expert in this field, how will your survey or research help fight the prevalence of the disease in these states, and what is your overall piece of advice to victims of cancer?

What I hope my work contributes is a clear, honest picture of where we stand and a way to make the numbers personal. Charts and dashboards have a quiet power: when a woman sees that breast cancer most commonly affects ages 35 to 45, she might do a self-examination this week. When a man sees that prostate cancer dominates after 65, he might raise the conversation with his father or uncle. My Tableau visualisation and the Instagram survey that accompanied it were never meant to replace clinical research. They were meant to be a doorway, the kind that gets people curious enough to ask the next question, book the screening, take the vaccine, or share what they learned with someone they love. If even a fraction of the people in these states act on it, the prevalence numbers in the next registry will look very different.

To anyone currently fighting cancer, or walking that journey with a loved one, please hold onto this truth: a diagnosis is not the end of your story. From my research, breast cancer detected early has an 86 percent five-year survival rate. Prostate cancer detected early sits at 99 percent. Even cervical cancer is at 60 percent. These are not just statistics; they are reasons to keep showing up for treatment, to ask hard questions of your doctors, and to lean on your community. Cancer is heavy enough on its own, so please do not carry the silence around it as well. Talk to your family, find a support group, and care for both your body and your mind. And for everyone reading who has not yet been diagnosed, the most powerful thing you can do this year is book a check-up. Early detection remains, by far, the strongest weapon we have.

What drew you to this project in the first place? Why cancer?

The honest answer is that a single headline triggered it. I was reading the newspapers and saw that Nigeria records over 120,000 new cancer cases every year, and the figure stayed with me. I kept asking myself how many of those people knew the warning signs in time, how many had access to a screening, and how many were quietly losing their lives because no one had ever told them cancer could be survived. That question refused to leave me, so I decided to build something that could put the numbers in front of people in a way they could actually feel. I am a data analyst by training, so visualisation is the language I speak best. I figured that if I could turn the official records into a clear, interactive dashboard, alongside a simple awareness survey on Instagram, even one extra person might book a check-up, take the vaccine, or share what they learned with someone they love. That was the only goal of the project. Anything beyond that is a bonus.

How did you introduce the project to your Instagram community in May 2024, and what did your Instagram awareness survey reveal that worried you most?

A few results from the survey stopped me in my tracks. Fifty-three percent of the women who responded had received neither the HPV vaccine nor the cervical cancer vaccine, which means more than half were unprotected against a largely preventable disease. Thirty-two percent could not remember the last time they did a breast self-examination, and another 6 percent had not done one since the previous year. On the men’s side, 40 percent of respondents had not received the Hepatitis B vaccine, which is one of the key risk factors for liver cancer, and a small percentage did not even know what the vaccine was. Forty-four percent of all respondents also said they do not exercise regularly. And remember, these were the women who chose to respond. People who follow health and data content on Instagram are already more curious about their wellbeing than the average woman on the street. If the gap looks this wide for them, I am almost afraid to think about what the picture looks like for the millions of Nigerian women who never come across content like mine. The survey results referenced are: Breast self-examination: 32 percent could not remember. Hepatitis B vaccine: 40 percent had not received it, and exercise frequency: 44 percent do not exercise regularly.

What surprised you most in the data, and were there any limitations?

The biggest surprise was how badly we are tracking ourselves. The most recent comprehensive public dataset I could find ran from 2009 to 2016, and even that one covered only a selection of states. There is nearly a decade of cancer data in Nigeria that is either not collected, not digitised, or not made publicly available. As a data analyst, that was painful because the country is essentially making decisions without an up-to-date map of the problem.

On the findings themselves, what stood out was how cleanly the gender split came through. Breast and cervical cancers dominated among women, while prostate and liver cancers dominated among men, with very little overlap. The age windows were also tighter than I expected, which is actually a hopeful finding, because it means awareness campaigns can be targeted with real precision rather than spread thin. The main limitations of my work are that the dataset is older than I would like and that several states had insufficient data and had to be excluded for consistency. A national, current registry would change everything.

For the everyday Nigerian who cannot afford expensive screening, what is a practical first step?

The good news is that the most powerful early-detection tools cost almost nothing. A monthly breast self-examination, which any woman can learn from a five-minute video online, has helped countless women catch lumps early. Knowing your family history is another free tool-if cancer runs in your family, your doctor needs to hear that the very first time you walk in, because it changes the screening schedule that gets recommended. For men, simply mentioning prostate concerns at any clinic visit, even one for an unrelated complaint, costs nothing but can save a life.

Beyond that, lifestyle is the largest free intervention available to us. Reducing processed meats, smoking, and alcohol, staying active, and prioritising sleep all, lower cancer risk across the board. Vaccinations are also increasingly available at primary healthcare centres at subsidised rates, and many state-level campaigns offer them at no cost during awareness months. I always encourage people to take advantage of those windows when they come. The real first step is to stop assuming that cancer is a problem for other people, in other families, in other states. It is not!

Lastly, in what way or manner can Nigerian families start having these difficult conversations about cancer?

The easiest way in is to lead with curiosity, not fear. Instead of opening with a warning to a parent or sibling, share something you learned: an article, a chart, a story, or a survey result. People listen better when they feel informed rather than scolded. Once the door is open, gentle questions tend to follow naturally. Has anyone in our family had cancer? When last did you go for a general check-up? Have you heard about the HPV vaccine for the girls in the house?

Cancer carries a lot of cultural weight in Nigeria, and the silence around it often comes from love, not from carelessness. People stay quiet because they are afraid of jinxing things or of worrying the people they care for. But that silence is exactly what makes late diagnoses so common. We need to keep saying, kindly and patiently, that talking about cancer does not invite it. Awareness invites survival!