Healthcare in the Premier University: Where do we go from here?
By Osuolale Oluwatomilayo
In the beginning was the world, and the world was Nigeria, and the world was wrong. In the book of unholy shenanigans, a tyrant was named. A tyrant originally called Niger Area, but with her charms, she became Nigeria.
Our motherland is a beautiful landscape of potholes and broken roads, and though bothered by the holes, we have refused to fill them up. Rants have become music, and music has blended into noise. Our echoes have bounced back at us from the halls in Aso Villa. Adekunle Gold predicted this, saying, Ariwo ko ni music (Music is not noice).
Oluwaseunfunmi Recluse once said,
“I've pledged to Nigeria my country,
To be faithful, loyal and honest,
But my country ain’t a beautiful host;
It’s a desert that makes me grunt.”
My country isn’t a beautiful host, and my state isn’t either.
In a country where the majority complains but remains ignored, surely a university within its horizon will face the same tragedy. Different sectors within this school have their unique faults. First are the repeated expectations of the student leaders, but more important is the state of student welfare in this school. During the regime of Aweda Bolaji, Elemide Daniel, his House Secretary, promised to improve accessibility to health facilities within the school, meaning improved access to the best health facility. Those who have spent more than a session at the University of Ibadan know the thought of visiting the clinic is a nightmare. This nightmare, however, does not compare to actually visiting there. It’s not only the poor state of facilities; it is the atmosphere, the low chance of being answered before passing away from the pain, and finally, the luck you might have to actually meet more than a doctor on duty.
In a conversation with Rebecca, a resident of Queen Elizabeth II Hall, she said, “I visited Jaja because I’ve been having this pain in my lower abdomen that has refused to go away, and upon reaching there the first time, I waited for three hours but did not get attended to. The only thing I did was to check my blood pressure. In fact, the same thing happened the second time. I just gave up on trying, and I’ve been coping with the pain, at least until I have time to go to a hospital off campus.”
When do we actually understand the concept of emergency? UItes have spoken and addressed the insufferable situation of our health facility, an obvious flaw in the name of this city called the first and best. The only response we’ve received is a letter highlighting the importance of prioritising your health. Is this really the life we have chosen? A life in which you only get lucky enough to be attended to when close to the edge of the white light beyond.
Yet, that is only a fungus that has navigated its way from the capital into our homes. The availability of medical personnel is a major problem that escapes the four corners of the university. It is a known fact in the country. In fact, we are merely lucky victims of circumstances. Sometimes people say to go to UCH if you want to thank God for the gift of life, and that might not be entirely wrong.
It is the system. The system that has been so unfaithful and wicked. The system affecting those it should benefit. Each year we hope more candidates choose at least a medical course, and in fact, the University of Ibadan has made it a goal to accept as many as possible, and still, the problem remains. With the increasing number of medical personnel the country produces yearly, the rapid decline in employment rates, and the number of “japa” cases, we have been left in a daze of certain jeopardy and malignance in our already flawed health system. They say, Take JAMB” and “Pick medicine”, yet, when one student scores 267, he is written out, by the mass, of the race of medicine and surgery. Only 300+ deserve to set IV lines.
We still have this health crisis that places us on the same plane as underdeveloped countries instead of developing, and if far-fetched, maybe developed. Those who are versed in the events occurring at the college hospital know we have a health crisis. For those who do not, listen.
A student who wished to remain anonymous shared her story with the press. “Early this semester, I noticed I've been having issues with properly hearing people. To be honest, I think I have always had it, but it has gotten worse. I went to Jaja to complain, and I was referred to college for proper treatment and tests. The first time, the issue was, ‘The doctors are occupied, go and get an appointment date, then come back.’ The second time it was ‘The doctor will see you soon,’ and ‘soon’ rolled into hours before I was eventually called in. Patients stood in great numbers waiting to be called in, and you think I have hope? Eventually, I got to see the doctor, and I have been at every appointment over the past two months with no apparent improvement or an actual way forward. It is almost like I am doing it for vibes.”
So, this is an unpopular opinion: what goes on in the university is mirrored in the college hospital. Well, they are lucky enough to have more than one doctor attending to thousands of patients, except on days when the consultants refuse to work due to the debt our government has refused to balance. In Esther’s words, “If in a country where hospitals’ electricity bills are not paid, so much so that it affects us for over 100 days, do you really think the doctors ensuring our safety, who operate in the dark, would be paid?”
If you really try to distinguish the federal from the capital, you will see clearly that they are inseparable. Like a morsel of fufu to egusi, they go well together, complementing each other in the same way. You cannot mention Jaja without mentioning UCH. The formidable twins, both victims of the same circumstances. Both walking hand in hand with the nation’s decline.
As a regular Uite will say, “I don’t recommend Jaja for anyone,” who would recommend those excruciatingly long hours that eventually yield no fruit? The wait, agonising pain, frustration, and the silent prayer that you get called next.
Maybe if the health sector of the entire nation is restructured, the effect will extend to our walls. Maybe if we produce more doctors, we might enjoy sanity. Maybe if the newly elected House Secretary takes the complaints of his constituents into account, we might not have to revisit the pages of his tenure after it ends.
Eventually, maybe Nigeria might pledge to you. If not, in the end, there will be our world, our world will be dog, and the dog will be catastrophic.What
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