As the novel coronavirus sweeps across the globe, it raises fundamental questions about spatial justice in Africa’s rapidly transforming cities. With the majority of Africa’s urban populations living in crowded settlements susceptible to mass infection, adhering to World Health Organization (WHO) social distancing guidelines is next to impossible. Where is the water for handwashing? The space for separating the infected? Or the wages that will pay for food, if it is even available? (See here, here and here). For the millions of Africans living under such conditions, WHO’s advice is a cruel joke: a reminder of the urban poor’s position at the fringes of citizenship. Accompanied by lock-downs and curfews, the urban poor who rely on daily earnings to put food on the table and must decide between viral exposure or starving. As an Abuja food seller pointed out: “… we will die of hunger faster than being killed by the virus.” There is a risk some governments may not care; or worse, that COVID-19 provides cover to further entrench socio-economic and spatial marginalization.

We already know part of the story. Around the world, the economically and politically marginalized are affected disproportionately by COVID-19. While we don’t yet know how the pandemic will unfold across Africa, there are few reasons to expect the poor will fare any better. What may differ are the long-term consequences. Indeed, even well-meaning interventions to slow the spread—hand washing, distancing and restricted mobility—may well erode what resilience the urban poor have built. They may save lives, but these measures will undermine already precarious livelihoods. Where the UK or US governments may dole out trillions in aid, African governments have no such resources. Given existing levels of limited political accountability and heightening autocracy, they also have few incentives to do so.