Photo: The Punch
My friend Dr. Kemi called me last week from Toronto. "Bro, I miss home, but I can't come back," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "Here, I have constant electricity in my hospital, functioning equipment, and I can actually save lives without fighting the system every day."
Dr. Kemi's story isn't unique. It's the story of thousands of Nigerian doctors who have packed their bags and left for greener pastures abroad - a phenomenon we've come to know as "Japa."
Let me paint you a picture that will shock you. Nigeria, with over 220 million people, has only about 40,000 doctors. Meanwhile, we actually need around 300,000 doctors to provide adequate healthcare for our population. That's like having one doctor for every 5,500 Nigerians!
To put this in perspective, the World Health Organization recommends one doctor for every 600 people. We're not even close, and the gap keeps widening as more doctors leave every year.
Dr. Bolu graduated from the University of Ibadan in 2019, full of dreams to serve his country. Today, he works in a hospital in Manchester, UK.
"The final straw for me was when a pregnant woman died in my hands because there was no oxygen in the hospital for three days," he told me during our phone conversation. "I had the skills to save her, but the system failed us both. That night, I applied for my UK medical licensing exam."
Stories like Dr. Bolu's are heartbreakingly common. Young doctors spend six years studying medicine, only to find themselves working in hospitals without basic amenities like steady power supply, functional equipment, or adequate security.
This doctor shortage isn't just statistics on paper - it's affecting real Nigerian families every day. Have you tried booking an appointment with a specialist recently? You might wait three to six months. Emergency rooms are overcrowded, with doctors working 36-hour shifts because there simply aren't enough hands.
Mrs. Adunni from Ibadan shared her experience: "When my husband had a heart attack, we drove to three hospitals before finding one with a cardiologist on duty. By the time we got proper care, precious hours had been lost."
In rural areas, the situation is even more dire. Some local government areas have just one or two doctors serving hundreds of thousands of people.
The reasons are as complex as they are frustrating:
When Dr. Ahmed left his position at a teaching hospital in Kano, the pediatric ward had to reduce its capacity by 30%. Children's lives are literally hanging in the balance because of this brain drain.
The irony is bitter: Nigeria spends millions training these doctors through subsidized university education, only to watch them use those skills to build other countries' healthcare systems.
But it's not all doom and gloom. Some Nigerian doctors are choosing to stay and fight for change from within.
Dr. Funmi Adeyemi runs a private clinic in Lagos and also volunteers at government hospitals. "Yes, it's challenging," she admits, "but every life I save here matters. I've seen what happens when communities have no access to healthcare, and I refuse to abandon my people."
She's part of a growing movement of doctors who are finding creative solutions - setting up telemedicine platforms to reach rural areas, advocating for policy changes, and mentoring young medical students.
The government needs to wake up and smell the coffee, but we can't wait for them. Here's what's already working in some places:
Fixing Nigeria's healthcare crisis requires all hands on deck. The government must prioritize healthcare funding, improve hospital infrastructure, and create attractive retention packages for medical professionals.
But we also have a role to play as citizens. We need to support local healthcare initiatives, advocate for better policies, and respect our healthcare workers.
Dr. Kemi might be saving lives in Toronto today, but her heart still beats for Nigeria. "If things improve," she says, "many of us will come back home. We didn't leave because we don't love Nigeria - we left because we want to practice medicine with dignity."
The question is: Will we create an environment worth coming back to? Our lives - literally - depend on it.
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