By Prince Charles Dickson

In February 2026, Ogonna Egwu took her gravely ill mother to the Accident and Emergency Ward of the University of Nigeria Teaching Hospital, Ituku-Ozalla. Doctors reportedly asked her to buy a waterbed the hospital could not provide.

Unable to leave her mother alone for the 25-kilometre trip into Enugu, she gave money to a staff member. The bed arrived the next day. Her mother died a day later.

Then came a final indignity: the bed was allegedly withheld as “hospital policy” and sold to another patient. Egwu later recovered only part of her money.

The Guardian’s account reads like fiction, but it is the kind of reality that has become dangerously ordinary.

This is not merely a story about a missing waterbed. It is an X-ray of a country where a patient’s relative becomes procurement officer, porter, blood scout and pharmacist; while grief waits at the cashier’s desk. When a hospital does not get wetin patient need, the family becomes an emergency ministry. The scandal is larger than one hospital and wider than one region.

A tertiary hospital should crown a functioning referral chain: the place for cancer therapy, neurosurgery, complex obstetrics, intensive care, specialist training and research. In Nigeria, that pyramid stands on its head. A 2026 country profile reports that 60 to 90 per cent of patients bypass primary care for secondary or tertiary facilities.

If the foundation bends, the penthouse does not fit stand straight.

From Enugu to Ibadan and Kano, the map changes, but the pathology remains: specialists spend precious hours managing illnesses that should have been prevented, detected or treated earlier.

In the South-East, The Guardian describes primary health centres below standard, general hospitals without basic diagnostics and tertiary facilities overwhelmed by the resulting traffic. Across facilities in Enugu, Nnewi, Owerri, Abakaliki and Umuahia, patients report buying medicines outside, conducting tests privately, waiting for theatre space and supplying water at the bedside. Federal Medical Centre Umuahia reportedly faced power-related costs approaching ₦70 million monthly.

Big gate no be big medicine.

Hospital infrastructure is not concrete alone. It has reliable electricity, clean water, oxygen, blood, laboratories, ambulances, functional equipment, secure information systems and human dignity.

There have been genuine improvements. UNTH has gained major solar-power capacity and a modern linear accelerator, while other facilities have received new buildings and equipment. But one functioning cancer machine serving a heavily populated region is both progress and a warning.

Machine wey no work na monument with plug.

Procurement must include maintenance, consumables, spare parts, trained operators and public reporting of equipment uptime. Commissioning photographs do not treat patients.

Travel west and the illusion of advantage appears. The South-West has major medical schools, more specialists and a dense private healthcare market. Yet University College Hospital, Ibadan, once a symbol of Nigerian medical excellence—suffered a grid disconnection in October 2024 and more than 100 days of blackout. Its power distress remained a public issue in 2026.

In an intensive care unit, electricity is not an overhead, it is medicine. Across Lagos, excellent private care may exist kilometres from overcrowded public wards, but proximity is not accessible.

Hospitals fit dey for your street; if the bill passes your pocket, e far like another country.

The generator has become an unofficial consultant, but diesel cannot be a national health policy.

The North carries the same disease with additional complications: vast distances, thinly distributed specialists, poverty, insecurity and disrupted transportation. A 2026 analysis of national survey data found inadequate antenatal-care use highest in the North-West at 35.5 per cent, followed by the North-East at 31.6 per cent and North-Central at 27.3 per cent, compared with about 10 per cent in the South-East and South-West.

By the time many patients reach Kano, Zaria, Maiduguri or Jos, a manageable condition has become an emergency. Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital has also experienced costly electricity disruptions.

Referral letter without ambulance, safe road and money na invitation wey person no fit attend.

New northern investments—including a 50-bed mental-health and drug-rehabilitation centre at the University of Maiduguri Teaching Hospital—deserve recognition. Yet an excellent tertiary island cannot compensate for a weak mainland of primary and secondary care. A woman with obstructed labour gains nothing from a sophisticated theatre she cannot reach. A trauma patient cannot use a CT scanner after losing the golden hour on a broken road.

All three regions meet at the Nigerian pocket. Out-of-pocket payments accounted for about 71 per cent of health expenditure in 2023, while roughly 91 per cent of Nigerians were uninsured in 2024. Here, sickness first attacks the body, then attacks the family economy. People buy medicines, tests, blood, gloves and consumables; they borrow, sell assets, postpone care or simply go home.

This is not a consumer choice. It is coercion by illness.

Sickness no dey ask tribe, but treatment dey recognise postcode and pocket.

Buildings do not diagnose, operate or comfort. Nigeria had about 38 doctors for every 100,000 people in 2023, with distribution skewed towards cities. Brain drain is not simply a morality tale about unpatriotic professionals; it is a verdict on the system. Health workers leave because remuneration, safety, equipment, career progression and working conditions fail them.

You no fit ask healer to stay where workplace dey wound am.

Those who remain become exhausted, patients wait longer, and young professionals learn to improvise around institutional failure. The cost is not only poorer treatment. Medical education, research and Nigeria’s capacity to confront future epidemics are also weakened.

Funding is not merely what appears in an appropriation law; it is release, execution and accountability. In February 2026, the health minister told lawmakers that only ₦36 million of the ministry’s ₦218 billion 2025 capital appropriation had been released.

Budget wey government no release na promise written with invisible ink.

The division of responsibility, federal tertiary care, state secondary care and local primary care—too often becomes an escape route for blame. But sickness does not carry a government organogram. The patient does not care which tier failed to provide oxygen.

Government reports that nearly 3,000 primary health centres have been revitalised under the IMPACT programme and that emergency obstetric sites and tertiary projects are coming online. That is welcome. The true test, however, is not how many buildings were inaugurated, but how many open every day, have skilled personnel, medicines, water and electricity, and can make a safe referral.

No be signboard dey save life; na di service behind am.

Nigeria needs a referral compact across all three levels of government. Primary centres must deliver prevention, maternal care, essential medicines and early diagnosis. General hospitals need blood banks, oxygen, imaging and round-the-clock emergency surgery. Tertiary hospitals must recover their specialist, teaching and research mandate.

Power and water should be treated as clinical infrastructure, protected through dedicated tariffs and redundant grid, solar, battery and generator systems. Equipment purchases must carry lifecycle budgets and biomedical-engineering support. Health workers need timely salaries, safe workplaces and incentives for underserved areas. The NHIA and state insurance schemes must protect vulnerable families, while public dashboards disclose budgets, releases, waiting times, equipment uptime and avoidable deaths.

Citizens are not the cause of this collapse, but they are not powerless. Communities can use ward health committees, enrol in available insurance, donate blood and demand evidence instead of applauding buildings. Professional bodies must defend workers and patients. Civil society and the media must follow public money beyond allocation to actual results. Leaders should be judged by what happens in a hospital ward at 2 a.m., not by ribbon-cutting at noon.

Return to Ogonna Egwu’s waterbed. Her mother did not need another policy launch. She needed a chain of care that worked—before the emergency, inside the hospital and after the prescription.

Country wey hospital dey wait for patient family to supply the hospital, na the country?

Nigeria must decide whether its tertiary hospitals will remain monuments to ambition or become instruments of survival. A nation cannot rise higher than the care it gives to the person who cannot pay, travel abroad or call anybody.

By Raphael Atuu

As the 2027 general elections draw closer, the political atmosphere in Nigeria is gradually heating up, with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, former Vice President Alhaji Atiku Abubakar, and former Anambra State Governor Peter Obi emerging as the major figures shaping the race for the presidency with new strategies.

While President Tinubu is seeking a second term in office, Atiku and Obi are hoping to finally occupy the nation’s highest political seat after previous attempts.

The trio are already adjusting their strategies, building alliances, and strengthening their political structures as they prepare for what promises to be one of the most competitive elections in Nigeria’s democratic history.

President Tinubu, who came into office in 2023, is expected to campaign based on his administration’s reforms and long-term economic plans.

His supporters argue that his policies, including efforts to attract investment, improve infrastructure, and restructure the economy, will eventually deliver positive results.

However, critics believe that the removal of fuel subsidy, rising inflation, and the increasing cost of living have created serious hardship for many Nigerians.

Despite these challenges, Tinubu has continued to defend his administration, insisting that his reforms are necessary to build a stronger economy and that Nigerians will benefit from the sacrifices being made today.

His early move to unveil his campaign team suggests that the ruling party may already be preparing ahead of the opposition.

For Alhaji Atiku Abubakar, the 2027 election represents another opportunity to achieve a long-time ambition of leading Nigeria.

The former vice president has promised policies aimed at reviving businesses, improving economic opportunities, and reviewing some government decisions that have affected Nigerians.

 His position on fuel subsidy and opening up more opportunities for private sector participation has attracted attention among some voters and business communities.

However, Atiku’s major challenge remains convincing Nigerians that he represents a fresh alternative after several previous presidential contests.

He will also need to unite his political supporters and build a stronger national coalition to compete effectively.

Peter Obi, who gained massive support during the 2023 election, remains a major force in the political landscape.

His supporters, popularly known as the “Obidient movement,” believe his message of good governance, accountability, and economic transformation can bring a new direction for the country.

Although Obi has not introduced a completely new political strategy ahead of 2027, he appears focused on consolidating the support and goodwill he gained from the last election.

His challenge will be expanding his support base beyond his existing followers and proving that his movement can translate into a nationwide electoral victory.

Beyond the personalities involved, the 2027 election is expected to be decided by key issues affecting ordinary Nigerians, including the economy, security, unemployment, education, healthcare, and the cost of living.

Many voters are likely to judge the candidates based on their ability to provide practical solutions rather than political promises.

Another major factor will be the strength of political alliances. Nigeria’s electoral history shows that no candidate can win the presidency without strong structures across the country.

The ability of Tinubu, Atiku, and Obi to build broad coalitions, attract influential political figures, and connect with young voters will play a significant role in determining the outcome.

For now, President Tinubu appears to have an early advantage in terms of incumbency and political machinery, while Atiku and Obi are working to create a strong challenge. But with many months before Nigerians return to the polls, the political landscape could still change.

In the end, only one candidate will emerge as Nigeria’s president after the 2027 election.

The battle ahead will not only be about personalities but also about who can convince Nigerians that they have the right solutions for the country’s future.

As Nigeria gradually enters the political season ahead of the 2027 general elections, there is a growing temptation among politicians to return to the familiar playbook: aggressive campaigns, endless promises, political propaganda, ethnic calculations, religious sentiments and the mobilisation of money and machinery.

But if the political class is paying attention, the recent Osun election should offer a sobering lesson.

Elections are no longer simply contests between political parties or exercises in political arithmetic. They are increasingly becoming referendums on performance, credibility, organisation and the relationship between politicians and the people.

The Osun experience should therefore be more than another election victory or defeat to be celebrated by one camp and rationalised by another. It should be a warning to every politician preparing for 2027.

The first lesson is that the people are watching.

For too long, Nigerian politicians have behaved as though voters can be permanently manipulated with slogans, inducements and election-day theatrics. But voters are becoming more discerning. They may still respond to material incentives, but they also remember who governed well, who failed, who showed up and who disappeared after collecting their votes.

The second lesson is that political structures cannot replace public trust.

A party may possess powerful godfathers, influential leaders, vast resources and impressive campaign machinery, but these cannot indefinitely compensate for a credibility deficit. Political structures are important, but they work best when they are reinforced by genuine voter confidence.

The third lesson is that incumbency is not an automatic guarantee of victory.

Those who occupy political offices must understand that public office comes with a political bill that eventually falls due. Roads, schools, healthcare, jobs, security, salaries, infrastructure and the general welfare of citizens are not merely governance issues; they increasingly shape electoral decisions.

The politician who assumes that occupying government gives him an irreversible advantage may discover, rather painfully, that voters have the final word.

There is also a lesson for opposition parties. Winning elections requires more than criticising the government. Nigerians are increasingly interested in alternatives. Opposition parties must articulate credible programmes, build strong grassroots structures and demonstrate that they have the competence and discipline required to govern.

Perhaps the most important lesson is that 2027 cannot be approached as politics as usual.

Nigeria is facing an electorate that is younger, more digitally connected and increasingly vocal. Social media has changed political communication. Citizens can challenge official narratives in real time. Political mistakes can become national conversations within minutes. Candidates can no longer depend entirely on traditional campaign rallies and carefully managed media appearances.

The political class must also recognise that Nigerians are tired of being treated as statistics during elections and forgotten citizens afterwards.

The road to 2027 will undoubtedly produce the usual alliances, defections, endorsements and political realignments. There will be new coalitions and old rivalries. There will be attempts to weaponise identity, manipulate emotions and redefine political narratives.

But the real question is whether politicians will learn from Osun.

Will they understand that voters deserve respect? Will they realise that performance matters? Will political parties begin to prioritise competence over loyalty? Will candidates campaign on ideas rather than insults? Will politicians understand that democracy is not simply about winning elections but earning the legitimacy to govern?

These are the questions the Osun election should force the political class to confront.

The 2027 election is approaching. The campaign season may only be beginning, but the lessons have already arrived.

The politicians who choose to ignore them may do so at their own peril.

Nigeria’s voters are watching. And this time, they may be keeping a much longer memory.

Kokome, a communications strategist and public affairs analyst, writes from Lagos via kokomejohn@yahoo.com