Patterns of Past, Present, Promise: After the Rain
When I was four years old, I lost my father to malaria. Since then, I’ve lost my baby niece, I almost lost my mother, and I came close to death myself. All because of malaria.
I grew up in a rural community, where my childhood was spent outdoors, playing in gardens that changed with the seasons. For months, we longed for rain to bring life to the arid landscape. But when it came, it brought more than relief – it brought fear. Malaria always followed. As the savannah bloomed with sunflowers, so did the sickness.
We couldn’t afford hospital bills, so we turned to local street remedies and cheap medications that were often fake – and sometimes toxic. Artemisia tea, an herbal brew made from wormwood leaves, was my father’s remedy of choice when the fevers came. And they came often, sweeping through our home… stealing energy, stealing joy – and eventually, lives.
As a child, I thought malaria was inevitable. That this was just the way things were. But later, I learned the truth. Malaria is preventable and treatable – but without access to health care, it’s deadly.
My father didn’t have to die. My niece didn’t have to die. My mother didn’t have to come so close to death. My community didn’t have to suffer, season after season.
What killed them wasn’t just a disease. It was poverty. It was the lack of access to reliable and trustworthy information, preventive tools and treatment. That truth broke my heart – and lit a fire in me.
Today, I’m studying to become a doctor. I’ve also launched a community organization to raise awareness about proper prevention and treatment, and to help provide access to care. My goal is to bring real change to communities like mine – and to help stop the suffering I know too well.
My story is woven into the pattern you see on my dashiki. Raindrops, sunflowers, and ripples of life and loss. This is the fabric of my life – and the changing seasons that shaped my pain into purpose.
Thanks to the Global Fund partnership, millions now sleep safely under mosquito nets – including me and my family. This is just one of many interventions helping to keep people safe from malaria.
But a child still dies from malaria nearly every minute. Ending this disease would save the lives of millions of children and pregnant women – and help entire communities and countries thrive.
This is our fight. For every life lost, and every life we can still save. For families. For fairness. For a future where no one dies from a mosquito bite.
We cannot stop now. Together, we must stop at nothing to finish this fight.
With thanks Abraham Babajide Cole for honoring Nuradeen’s story in this pattern.