By Abubakar Muhammad Adamu
In Wuro Modibbo community, Yola South, a mat is spread on the ground. A lantern flickers in the corner. Fatuma Ahmadu lies in labor, her breath heavy. She has given birth to eight children; only five survived. On this night, there is no money for transport, no water in the house, and her husband is away.
Her neighbor, Adda Abu, arrives quickly with a small bag. She pours water into a basin, puts on sterile gloves, and kneels beside Fatuma. With calm hands, she guides the delivery. Hours later, the cries of a baby cut through the night.
“I had no support,” Fatuma recalls, her voice steady. “Then Adda Abu came. She brought water, spread the mat, and helped me deliver it safely.”
It isn’t the first time. Years ago, when Fatuma bled heavily after a birth, it was Adda Abu who stayed with her through the night cleaning, boiling water, making tea, returning the next morning to cut the baby’s cord. That child is now in primary school, dreaming of becoming a teacher.
Across Yola South LGA, in Gongoshi Dou Nyolel village, an aged Mother, Mama Gila still answers midnight knocks. Mothers like Tina and Esther say they cannot imagine childbirth without her.
“She held me by the shoulder, told me to sit, boiled water, added sugar, and gave it to me,” Tina explains. “Not long after, I delivered.”
Esther nods beside her: “She is always by my side.”
Some Traditional Birth Attendants, like Hajara Tijjani in Wuro Dole community Yola south LGA, began with no training. “It started at home, during emergencies,” she signs. “If the situation is risky, I insist on going to the hospital. But if training comes, I want to attend.”
That training came in 2014. The Center for Women and Adolescent Empowerment, supported by Global Rights Initiative, gathered thirty TBAs from fourteen communities. They learned safe practices, referrals, and antenatal care. For Adda Abu, the change was life-saving.
“One day, I delivered with just a nylon bag on my hand,” she remembers. “No gloves. But after training, everything changed. I know the danger signs now. I use sterile gloves.”
The results ripple across communities. Program officer of the Center, Mubarak Abdulrahman Abubakar lists them with pride: more hospital births, better antenatal visits, higher immunization rates, fewer deaths.
Health workers confirm the shift. At Shagari Clinic, nurse Hussaina Habu says: “The TBAs here support us. When there’s an emergency, they send the women to us immediately.” In Jabbi Lamba Clinic, manager Elisha Habila notes: “Over 200 births monthly now. We even give wrappers to mothers who deliver here. It works.”
Community leaders echo the progress. Village Head of Bole,Yola South LGA, Abdulmumuni Abubakar, recalls: “Before, women suffered. After training, complications dropped from about 80% to 30%. With their kits, TBAs really picked up the work.”
Government policy is also shifting. The Adamawa State Primary Health Care Development Agency is repositioning TBAs as Mama2Mama and CHIPS agents. “They don’t conduct deliveries anymore,” says Deputy Director of Community Health Services, Ahmed Yero. “They track pregnancies, promote hospital delivery, and link women to transport in emergencies.”
Yero explains that this transition is deliberate. “We are currently discouraging home births. Deliveries now happen in facilities with skilled birth attendants, nurses and midwives,” he says.
The state is building strong community structures to drive the change. In every ward, 45 Mama2Mama women are assigned catchment areas to identify and follow pregnant women from conception to postnatal care.
CHIPS agents, meanwhile, create demand for services, treat minor illnesses, and refer complicated cases. the result: more antenatal visits, earlier detection of complications, and fewer deaths.
Yero notes that Adamawa ranks 4th nationwide among the 172 most affected LGAs. But with targeted interventions, maternal mortality is dropping.
To reach hard-to-reach communities, the state introduced the Maternal and Child Emergency Transport System (MANSET), a partnership with the National Union of Road Transport Workers (NURTW). “Even in remote areas, Mama2Mama agents ensure no woman is left behind,” Yero says. Recently, 339 community nurses and midwives were deployed, with another 2,260 Junior Community Health Extension Workers set to be recruited under the SARAH Project.
For Rashida Muhammad, a Mama2Mama agent, the difference is striking. “Before, women waited seven months before going to hospital. Many died. Now, they go as soon as they know they are pregnant.”
The numbers confirm the transition: from 235 maternal deaths in 2019,175 in 2021, 132 in 2022, 116 in 2023 to 113 in 2024. Still, funding gaps, culture, and distance remain barriers.
Progress feels personal. Fatumo smiles as she remembers Adda Abu’s calm presence. “She is clean, careful, and skilled. She saved me many times.”
The story of maternal health in Adamawa is not finished. But from mats on the floor to gloves in delivery kits, from neighbors stepping in at night to government agents tracking pregnancies, the shift is real: more mothers and babies are surviving.
This story was made possible by Nigeria Health Watch with support from the Solutions Journalism Network, a nonprofit organization dedicated to rigorous and compelling reporting about responses to social problems, http://solutionsjournalism.org.”