Dealing with the adverse effects of an anti-asthmatic medication was something 28-year-old Rose Daniel, a marketer, never wanted to face again.
Her life was less productive since she experienced uncontrollable tremors every time she took the medications, which gave her chills down her spine.
However, relief arrived eight years ago when her physician recommended the zero-side-effect Seretide Diskus inhaler as an asthma preventer.
However, following the exit of GSK last year, and the scarcity of the inhalers, the anxiety of a return to the daily tremors grabbed Daniel’s thoughts.
The native of Cross River, determined to spare no cost, contacted renowned pharmacies around the nation and ultimately purchased three packets to last her several months, until normalcy would return and the prescriptions would become available.
Daniel informed news reporters that after the inhalers were made available, she made sure to get them from a licensed pharmacy that she knew provided authentic and authorized medication.
However, she one day noticed a colleague using a Seretide inhaler pack while she was at work and questioned why the pack didn’t look like hers. She glanced through the pack for a moment before the reality struck her.
“It had no NAFDAC (National Agency for Food and Drug Administration and Control) Registration Number!” she said.
Thank goodness, Daniel expressed, she had made sure to only get her inhalers and other medications from reputable pharmacies.
PUNCH Healthwise conducted an investigation into pharmacies and the medicine market in Church Street, Idumota, Lagos State, after receiving information from an asthmatic patient that counterfeit and unregistered inhalers, known as Seretide inhalers, had proliferated the market.
Entering into Church Street, the popular hub for wholesale and retail medicines, the tearing sounds of semitransparent adhesive tape (cellotapes) filled the atmosphere.
Carrying multiple cartons of purchased medications and medical supplies on their backs, human load carriers delivered the goods to their designated purchasers.
Following a thorough examination of the subtleties of the market, a correspondent asked at a few stores where Seretide Diskus might be purchased. And so the recommendations started.
With great enthusiasm, a tall, dark-complexioned middle-aged man greeted another man and declared, “We’ve been in this market since the 1980s,” in Yoruba.
Later on, this man would serve as a guide, showing the reporter where to get the inhaler from the prescription supply stores.
“If I take you to the place where the other woman described, the price there is expensive, I’ll take you to this shop,” the guide responded.
Regretfully, the shopkeeper failed to offer this particular goods, which resulted in more recommendations. Finally, a young man named Nosa who was dressed in traditional clothing was suggested.
Then, the correspondent sent him a photo of an unlicensed Seretide inhaler, with English and Urdu—a language primarily spoken in Pakistan and India—written on the pack.
Nosa gave us the go-ahead after looking at the photo and sent us to his “second shop.”
This correspondent would eventually find that Nosa is a retailer and wholesaler of prescription drugs.
This correspondent was wondering whether he was the primary distributor of Seretide Diskus, as his name seemed to be resonating like a hymn on the lips of other dealers.
“I am not the only one, I sell prescription medicines,” Nosa opined, as he led the correspondent through the noisy market to another shop.
When we arrived, he asked Lucky, his “brother,” if the inhaler was still accessible, and Lucky said that it was.
This correspondent was given the option to wait for the salesman who was tasked with “bringing” the inhaler from an unknown location by taking a seat on the bench beside the shop’s little door.
The unregistered medications definitely weren’t supposed to be on the shelf. The only requirement for bringing out the inhalers was a particular request from a buyer who was prepared to pay.
Following a half hour of waiting and multiple requests for patience, the Seretide Diskus was finally delivered, carefully packaged in a medium-sized black nylon bag.
This correspondent found that the drug’s name was written in Urdu instead of English when they opened the bag to make sure “what I ordered was what I got.”
Throwing further questions at Lucky, he responded, “Every batch comes with a new package but it is from the same producer as the one you showed me. This batch came in English. The one in Urdu was produced last year.”
Nevertheless, upon closer inspection, the envelope revealed that it was imported by Modern Pharma Trading Company and produced by “Glaxo Wellcome Production, France and the Batch Releasing Site: Glaxo Wellcome United Kingdom Limited, Brentford, Middlesex, UK.”
The concern was raised by the conspicuous lack of the National Agency for Food and Drug Administration and Control Registration Number, even though the manufacture and expiry dates were January 2024 and January 2026, respectively.
