Comparing drug recalls to car recalls is not just intellectually lazy; it is morally bankrupt. It is a desperate sleight of hand by pharmaceutical suppliers who do business with government, clutching at straws to evade accountability for a crisis that has left hospitals without medicine and the lives of emaSwati at risk.
These companies are not suppliers acting in good faith. They are suppliers who knowingly procure drugs that are expired, close to expiry, or fail to meet basic laboratory approval standards, then push them into the public health system in pursuit of profit. Some of the medication supplied reportedly carries less than 50 percent laboratory approval, far below the 90 percent threshold required for safe administration. In some instances, drugs still under trial were allegedly sold to government and administered to poor emaSwati as if they were guinea pigs.
This is not an oversight. It is a business model.
The arrogance on display is alarming. Instead of taking responsibility, the suppliers have embarked on an aggressive campaign to discredit the Funduzi Forensic Services report presented to Parliament. Having failed to win the argument on facts, they have now roped in sections of the Fourth Estate, the very watchdog meant to hold power to account. What we are witnessing is not journalism; it is reputation laundering.
Hospitals have no medication. Deliveries are late. Expired drugs are supplied to hospitals. Central Medical Stores employees have been accused of tampering with expiry dates. The allegation is chilling: that suppliers deliberately procure medication a couple of months from its expiry date because it is cheaper, knowing full well that by the time it reaches Eswatini it will be expired, and relying on compromised insiders within the medical stores to alter the dates. If these allegations are true, then this is not just corruption to maximise margins; it is a syndicate operating with intent to loot government coffers while killing emaSwati.
Against this backdrop, a comparison with car recalls is an insult to public intelligence. When cars are recalled, it is usually the manufacturer who issues the recall, often over faulty airbags, fog lights, or other minor defects. Even drug recalls in other SADC countries cited in the Times of Eswatini SUNDAY article refer to recalls initiated by manufacturers over branding or minor technical issues. Even then, those recalls were initiated by manufacturers. Here in Eswatini, the drugs being described as “recalled” are, in fact, rejected because of inferior quality, a crucial distinction the article conveniently failed to state.
Here, we are dealing with suppliers who knowingly push substandard products into the health system because profit margins matter more than human life. To suggest that because drug recalls are “common” this situation should not alarm the public is grotesque. Are emaSwati not supposed to panic when fed expired drugs or medication with 48 percent approval? Are we meant to shrug and accept this as normal?
By the time a drug is recalled, how many people would have already consumed it? What are the implications for their health? These are questions the apologists never ask, perhaps because the answers are inconvenient to their masters. And what happens to government money spent procuring this medication? Is it recalled too, or does it quietly transform into top-of-the-range Lexus SUVs?
Instead of unleashing a legion of journalists to defend an indefensible practice, these suppliers should focus on their core business. If they cannot supply quality medication on time, they should leave the space. They have already made enough money. The irony is that they are using that same money to fight government, intimidate critics, and pollute public discourse.
This behaviour is heartless. It belongs before the courts, not on newspaper pages dressed up as normal business risk. Those defending it in exchange for small favours will go down with it. History books have no blank pages. In the digital age, everything is recorded. Children and grandchildren will read about the judicial officers who shielded this syndicate, the scribes turned into propaganda officers for these cartels, and the procurement officials who bent over backwards to facilitate looting with immunity.
Gatekeeping emaSwati from quality medication in public hospitals is not a policy failure; it is an act of collective harm. Call it what it is.
In this bleak landscape, Funduzi Forensic Services director Zakhele Dlamini stands out. He has chosen truth over comfort, accountability over convenience. Despite being bashed daily by a media echo chamber aligned to vested interests, he has not backed down. Cabinet ministers privately urge him to keep going, even as they lack the courage to stand with him publicly, some mindful of who sponsored their 2023 election campaigns. With 2028 approaching, they are reluctant to bite the hand that got them to Lobamba Ranches, as they may need the implicated suppliers to fund their campaigns again, so they are playing it safe.
History will remember that too. It will also remember Dlamini, the young man from Mankayane who risked his life to expose what is happening in public health procurement. Long after the propaganda fades, the record will remain. And it will not be kind to those who chose profit over people.
This article is an opinion piece. The views and opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position or views of Independent News.
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