The Trump administration's partial back-pedalling this week from an aid freeze order that had threatened critical medical aid to poor countries might be the reason for relief in many African capitals. But it should not be a reason for complacency.
Much as the respite is a welcome development for the millions of people who depend on US medical supplies for daily doses of treatment for chronic conditions, it should be more cause for introspection than relief.
In sub-Saharan Africa, the bulk of HIV care and prevention activities have until now, been funded by the US through the President's Emergency Plan for Aids Relief (Pepfar).
A sudden halt to the programme threatened to create chaos, with grave implications for the global fight against the Aids pandemic. Patients falling off treatment would become reservoirs for drug-resistant strains of the virus, potentially reversing the gains achieved over the decades.
That should be enough reason for any objective observer to tread with care around any action intended to alter the status quo. But that does not take away beneficiary states' responsibility for the well-being of their citizens.
The problem with Trump's orders is not that they go against the principle of compassion for the less fortunate but rather their abrupt and fatally disruptive nature.
In the broader scheme of things, every nation should seek self-sufficiency in the provision of key public goods, either at affordable cost or at no direct charge to the user.
Unpopular and annoying as they might be, President Trump's aggressive moves raise the question of African governance and a sense of prioritisation.
Long after successfully lobbying for affordable medicines for ailments such as HIV/Aids, many recipient countries had settled into a comfort zone, where healthcare for their populations is still seen as a development partner's priority, rather than their own.
Looking at the structure of African budget allocations, a disturbing pattern emerges. The social sector tends to play worse than second fiddle in the merit order.
On the other hand, mostly opaque defence and security spending, coupled with the bulging costs of public administration – and politics -- tend to take priority.
Almost invariably social sector spending is, by and large, perceived as a cost rather than an investment for a healthy and productive population.
In a rational environment, one would hope that the shock caused by the threat of aid stoppage should be enough to force a rethink. An analysis of the annual disbursements by the US to Africa's health sector shows that with belt-tightening and efficiency measures, many beneficiary states should be able to cover the gap created by the withdrawal of US aid.
The 10 biggest African recipients of HIV assistance from the US in 2023 collectively received $1.758 billion. Among these are South Africa, which received $250 million, Mozambique, $239 million, and Nigeria $220 million.
In East Africa Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania were the big recipients each collecting $194 million, $187 million, and $166 million respectively. It is big money, but hardly impossible to marshal with a little discipline.
So, why do African governments spend a lot on defence and security? It is because they realise it is too important to leave to the whims of foreign funders. If they don't take steps to accord the same level of priority to social spending, they might soon be left with no people to defend.