I have always been an optimist. Yet optimism is difficult when I consider the spread of COVID-19 on the continent of my birth. Africa will undoubtedly be hit harder than anywhere else on Earth, with long-lasting impacts that will be nothing short of catastrophic. At this point, only a few African countries do not have cases.  Deaths are being reported and the likely trajectory is chilling.

COVID-19 is already hitting hard economically. Trade, Africa’s lifeline, has contracted sharply, with oil exporters facing losses of up to US$100 billion in 2020 alone (Economic Commission for Africa - ECA).  Projected earnings from foreign direct investment have been revised downwards, with contractions forecast at 15 percent globally (United Nations Conference on Trade and Development - UNCTAD).  Africa’s GDP will shrink from 3.2 percent to about 2 percent (ECA). Fears are mounting of a new debt crisis, as the continent desperately seeks resources to address the crisis. Remittances from the African diaspora will plummet, as the pandemic forces more developed economies to a halt.

Such dire macro projections pale, however, compared with the human suffering now unfolding in households and among individuals across Africa. Women have been hit hardest as institutional childcare options disappear, schools are shuttered, borders closed, and the livelihoods of small business owners and informal traders hang in the balance. Places of worship have closed, raising anxiety and psychosocial discomfort. Africa is fast catching up with the global pace of lockdown, without the infrastructure and resources to provide even a minimal buffer.

COVID-19 in Africa worries me deeply for two over-arching reasons. First, its trigger point, the health sector, is extraordinarily weak. Second, the multidimensional transmission channels of this pandemic will, without drastic measures, reverse decades of development gains, perpetuating extreme poverty and causing untold misery.