A Young Nurse Encounters Nigeria

Sunday, January 4th, was an unusually demanding day for me. I had an event in Ughelli, Delta State, and had to drive from Onitsha to the city. From there, I proceeded to another event in Mgbidi, Imo State, and thereafter traveled from Owerri to Lagos.

On the Air Peace flight, I sat in 5A, beside me in 5B was a young woman of about 24 years, Chidera Ugwokeba, whose parents are from the South East, but who was born and raised in the USA. She had just graduated from nursing school and was visiting Nigeria with her parents for the first time. She had exchanged her seat with her sibling to enable her talk to me having been told who I am.

During the flight, she began to share her sadness and confusion about Nigeria. Her first question was simple but piercing: Why do basic things not work in Nigeria? She then recounted a painful experience. Her sister, also visiting Nigeria for the first time, had a domestic accident and was rushed to what they were told was the best government-owned hospital in the area.

On arrival, even though her sister’s hand was bleeding, the hospital staff insisted that payment must be made before any treatment could begin. Shocked, they asked the hospital attendant whether he truly did not see the urgency of the situation. In response, they were shown other patients with even worse conditions who were also being left unattended because they had not paid.

They eventually paid, and it was time for the blood test. Traumatised, they realised the hospital had only one blood-testing machine for all patients, and it was not being sterilised between uses. When she raised concerns that the equipment had not been properly sterilised, they were bluntly told to stop asking questions if they wanted her sister to be treated. Despite their payment, they had to buy all the items needed for her treatment.

She found it hard to believe because, according to her training and every hospital she had visited, treatment comes first - payment comes later. She told me they had considered organizing a GoFundMe to support healthcare back home, but relatives warned them that any money raised would likely be embezzled.

Then she said something that struck me deeply: “I now understand what happened to Boxer Joshua. This is why there was no ambulance to rush him to a nearby hospital.” She wondered aloud whether it was simply because the country is poor. Yet she added that she would willingly offer her skills and service for free and help raise money to make things better.

Listening to the lament of a young, patriotic Nigerian who is prepared to offer free service and raise money to help her country and its citizens, I painfully replied by encouraging her not to lose hope. The country is not poor, but it is poorly governed. Nigeria can afford basic necessities, especially critical and necessary ones, but they are often not considered priorities due to incompetent leadership.

A standard ambulance costs about ₦150 million ($100,000). Nigeria spent ₦39 billion refurbishing the National Conference Centre in Abuja and ₦21 billion rebuilding the Vice President’s residence. Those two projects alone- ₦60 billion -could have provided about 400 brand-new ambulances, roughly 11 per state, including the FCT. Had 11 functional ambulances existed in Ogun State, one might have been available for Joshua.

Building a primary healthcare centre in a community costs about ₦75 million. Yet we spent about ₦300 billion ($200 million) on an additional presidential jet - money that could have built over 4,000 primary healthcare centres, about 110 per state. The only visible value the jet adds is the ability of the President to occasionally disappear without the public knowing where he is, as is the case now.

What Nigeria needs now is unity across ethnic, religious, and political lines to demand leadership that has competence, capacity, compassion, and commitment to accountably and transparently manage the resources of the country.

A new Nigeria is POssible.

- PO