Health

By Anas Abbas

The ongoing rainy season has brought relief from the heat but also a dangerous surge in mosquito breeding across many communities.

Open, clogged gutters and stagnant pools of water have become breeding hotspots for Anopheles mosquitoes, the primary carriers of malaria, prompting urgent calls for action from health experts, residents, and government officials.

The Daily Reality has reported that numerous neighborhoods in Kano City, including Dan Rimi, Yan Mata, and Kurna Asabe, are facing serious challenges related to unclean open gutters and stagnant sewage channels.

These unsightly conditions not only compromise the aesthetic appeal of these areas but also pose serious health risks to the residents.

Community outcry

Across several neighborhoods in the city, residents have expressed frustration over the poor state of local drainage systems. Many lament that the rainy season has worsened the situation, with gutters overflowing and stagnant water lingering for days.

“Our gutters are blocked with plastic waste, sand, and all kinds of debris,” said Aisha Ismail, a resident of Kurna Asabe.

Another resident of Yan mata, Isah Mustafa, added “Mosquitoes are everywhere now. We are willing to clean up, but the drains are deep and heavily silted. We need government equipment and manpower to make a real impact.”

Although some communities like Gayawa, Rimin Zakara Rijiyar Lemo (A) have already embarked on volunteer clean-up exercises, local leaders admit that without adequate tools, trucks, and protective gear, their efforts remain limited.

The village head of Rimin Zakara, Kabiru Abba, explained that during the rainy season, community members gather to emphasize the importance of maintaining clean water channels.

“This includes placing slabs over street gutters and clearing unwanted grass to reduce the risk of mosquito breeding.” However, “households with flowers are also advised to trim their plants and grasses, as doing so helps minimize the presence of insects and mosquitoes”.

He said the Ward Head of Tudun Bojuwa, Zaharaddin Muhammad, also urged communities to take advantage of the sanitation day to clean up their sewage systems, gutters, and drainages in order to protect themselves from mosquito infestations.

He added that “sanitation should not only be about preventing mosquitoes, but also about promoting personal comfort and well-being”.

Medical expert’s insight

Dr. Usman Sani, a seasoned medical doctor explained to Daily Reality that the outbreak of malaria is closely linked to how we manage sewage and refuse disposal in our environment.

“Malaria lays its eggs in dirty water, which leads to an increase in disease transmission in affected areas. It is crucial that we effectively manage our water systems,” he stated.

He emphasized the importance of implementing a closed system for water and waste disposal, rather than allowing them to be exposed openly. “Cleaning sewage channels and gutters will significantly reduce the chances of malaria in our communities. However, it is essential that these channels are enclosed rather than left open. In our case, our gutters are predominantly open and often stagnant, leading to clogged water systems filled with debris,” Usman said.

Government response

The Kano State Ministry of Environment and Climate Change has emphasized that both government and communities, alongside relevant stakeholders, must actively engage in drainage and sewage clean-up exercises.

Speaking in an interview with Arise TV, the Commissioner for Environment explained that rampant refuse dumping and blocked drainages often serve as breeding grounds for mosquitoes.

He stressed that consistent clean-up activities could effectively address this challenge.

According to him, the ministry has provided equipment to communities to enable their participation in the exercise.

He further noted that while negligence and ignorance sometimes contribute to the problem, ongoing sensitization and inclusive efforts will encourage residents of Kano to embrace the initiative.

ThisDay newspaper reported that the Kano State Government has flagged-off the 2025 Seasonal Malaria Chemoprevention (SMC) Campaign and Insecticide-Treated Net (ITN) Distribution, with the official launch held at Burji Primary Health Centre in Madobi Local Government Area.

Aminu Abdulssalam, the deputy governor said the state has initiated the launching of the Seasonal Malaria Chemoprevention campaign and distribution of insecticide-treated nets to prevent malaria, a disease that disproportionately affects children and pregnant women across Kano state.

Despite the general distribution of 7.7 million insecticide-treated nets (ITNs) across Kano State, particularly targeting mothers and children, some residents in parts of Ungogo Local Government Area have expressed concerns about not receiving the nets.

“We have seen people in areas like Fagge and Dala Local Government Areas collecting ITNs, but it is yet to reach us,” lamented Jamila Sulaiman, a resident of Ungogo.

A source confirmed that the Ungogo Local Government distributed insecticide-treated nets (ITNs) to residents across the area. Health officials emphasize that mosquito control is not a one-time effort but requires consistent community engagement. Regular cleaning of gutters, covering of water storage containers, and timely waste disposal are being highlighted as essential steps.

“If we act together now, we can greatly reduce mosquito breeding and protect our communities. Every blocked gutter we clear today is one less breeding site tomorrow. The rainy season is here we must treat this as a health emergency.” Dr. Juniadu sani concluded

By Tahir Mahmood Saleh

In Barden Barade, a remote village tucked within Sokoto State’s dry plains, something extraordinary happened a fewweeks ago — light returned. But not just light from a bulb. This was light that brought hope, dignity, and the promise of life.

For the past five years, the village’s only primary healthcare centre stood in silence — its doors locked, its wards dark, its beds removed. At night, when labour pains started, expectant mothers were rushed out of the village in desperation, sometimes travelling over 20 kilometres in search of care. Others gave birth on the floor of the abandoned hospital, aided only by midwives holding phone torches between their teeth.

“Many of us feared we wouldn’t survive childbirth,” said Maryam Abubakar, a mother of four. “My last child was born on a mat, with only the light of a small phone. The nurse kept shifting the torch with her mouth. I cried not from pain, but fear.” That fear is no more.

CREACC-NG, a Nigerian non-profit organisation championing community resilience and climate justice, launched the HealthVoltaic Initiative in Barden Barade. The initiative brings solar-powered energy systems to rural health centres cut off from the national grid.

With support from community stakeholders and generous partners, the team installed: A HealthVoltaic solar generator, Roof-mounted solar panels, medical equipment, including Doppler fetal monitors and digital thermometers, Rechargeable lights and fans, Beds and basic emergency supplies

For the first time in years, delivery rooms once sealed and abandoned were reopened. Midwives walked proudly into wards now lit by solar energy. Mothers now lie on beds, not mats. The hospital, which never operated at night, now runs 24/7.

“No woman will give birth in the dark again,” declared Umma Muhammad, the hospital’s Officer in Charge. “No more using torchlight with our mouths. No more mothers losing their lives because of light. This is a new beginning.” At the unveiling ceremony, Alhaji Mamman, the traditional leader of Barden Barade, stood with tears in his eyes.

“For years, we begged for help. We watched our women suffer. Today, we have light — not just in bulbs, but in our hearts,” he said as he formally launched the HealthVoltaic system. “This is one of the greatest things to happen to our community.”

The community turned out in large numbers. Women ululated. Children danced around the solar panels. The Ward Development Committee (WDC) members, who serve as custodians of the hospital’s welfare, pledged to supervise and protect the solar generator and ensure the project is sustained.

“We’ve waited so long. Now it’s here, we won’t let it fail,” said Malam Nura, a member of the WDC. “This energy system is for our mothers, our babies, and our future.” The transformation at Barden Barade is only the beginning.

CREACC-NG hopes to expand the HealthVoltaic Initiative to hundreds of off-grid rural health facilities across Nigeria. In a country where one woman dies every 13 minutes during childbirth, and where over 55% of primary healthcare centres have no electricity, the need is both urgent and immense.

“This is not just about power,” said CREACC-NG’s Project Lead. “It’s about restoring dignity to rural healthcare. It’s about saying no woman should die giving life — simply because there’s no light.” The HealthVoltaic Initiative aligns with Sustainable Development Goals 3 (Health) and 7 (Clean Energy) and presents a practical, low-cost, high-impact solution that is community-owned, climate-smart, and scalable.

But to take this movement beyond Barden Barade, funding is needed. Grants, private sector partnerships, and donor support can help replicate this success in other underserved communities — places where light is still a luxury, and delivery rooms are still covered in shadow.

Barden Barade was once a forgotten village, its hospital a symbol of abandonment. Today, it’s a beacon of what’s possible when communities believe, when organisations act, and when the world chooses to care. As the sun set on the day of the launch, the lights inside the hospital remained on — glowing quietly, confidently, like a promise kept. And in that light, babies cried, midwives smiled, and hope was reborn.

By Uzair Adam

The Kano State Government has launched Nigeria’s first Triple Elimination Programme aimed at preventing the transmission of HIV, Hepatitis B, and Syphilis from mothers to their babies.

The Commissioner for Health, Dr. Abubakar Labaran Yusuf, disclosed this on Monday during a press briefing in Kano to commemorate the 2025 World Hepatitis Day with the theme “Hepatitis: Let’s Break it Down.”

Dr. Yusuf said the state government has released N95 million for the procurement of test kits and Tenofovir Disoproxil Fumarate (TDF) for pregnant women who test positive for Hepatitis B.

He added that another N135 million is awaiting approval for the purchase of additional materials to support the prevention of mother-to-child transmission (MTCT).

“This makes Kano the first state to commence and own the process of Triple Elimination of HIV, Hepatitis, and Syphilis for pregnant women,” he said.

He explained that the pilot programme, titled “HepFree Mothers, Healthy Babies” (HepFree Uwadajariri), was launched in February 2025 to eliminate mother-to-child transmission of Hepatitis B through early screening and treatment.

The effort is aligned with the global Triple Elimination goal targeting HIV, Hepatitis, and Syphilis among pregnant women attending antenatal care.

According to Dr. Yusuf, preliminary data shows that Kano State reflects the national trend, with an estimated burden of over 1.2 million people living with Hepatitis B and a prevalence rate of over 6% based on retrospective and current facility data.

He stressed that the infection, though preventable and treatable, often goes undetected, leading to avoidable deaths from liver complications.

The pilot programme is currently implemented in six major facilities: Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital, Murtala Mohammed Specialist Hospital, Muhammad Wase Teaching Hospital, General Hospital Gaya, General Hospital Bichi, and General Hospital Wudil.

In these hospitals, all eligible pregnant women are screened for Hepatitis B free of charge. Those who test positive are placed on TDF treatment starting from 32 weeks of pregnancy until delivery.

Additionally, immunization officers are posted in labour wards to administer the first dose of the Hepatitis B vaccine to newborns at birth, also free of charge.

Dr. Yusuf said this effort is part of the state’s strategy to prevent mother-to-child transmission, which accounts for about 70 to 80 percent of all Hepatitis B infections.

He also noted that blood transfusion services across both public and private health facilities in Kano are aligned with screening protocols to ensure safety.

The commissioner reaffirmed Kano State’s commitment to advance the HepFree Mothers, Healthy Babies initiative, integrate hepatitis services into existing maternal and child health platforms, strengthen commodity and data systems, and advocate for increased domestic funding to sustain the gains made.

He called on development partners, the private sector, and the media to support the programme through advocacy, funding, and public sensitisation.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

The death of Nigeria’s former President Muhammadu Buhari in a London hospital has once again spotlighted the country’s long-standing crisis in healthcare delivery, especially among its elite. 

Buhari, 82, died on Saturday, July 13, after a prolonged illness reportedly linked to leukaemia. Despite leading Africa’s most populous nation and the continent’s largest economy, he died not on Nigerian soil, but under foreign care.

His passing mirrors a now-familiar pattern among Nigeria’s political class: fleeing abroad for treatment, even for routine ailments, only to eventually die in foreign hospitals. Buhari, who frequently sought medical attention in the United Kingdom during his presidency, had once campaigned on the promise of reducing medical tourism. Instead, he became one of its most prominent symbols.

Public reaction has been swift and critical. Muhammad Shakir Balogun, a resident advisor with the Nigeria Field Epidemiology and Laboratory Training Program (NFELTP), condemned the trend in a widely shared Facebook post. Drawing comparisons with African icons like Nelson Mandela and Jerry Rawlings—both of whom received treatment and died in their home countries—Balogun wrote:

“They were not flown to London, Paris, or Amsterdam. They were attended to in their own countries by their own doctors… What of Nigeria, the giant of Africa? Even those who campaigned on the moral pedestal of not going abroad for treatment turned out to be the worst offenders ever.”

He called on current President Bola Tinubu to “break the despicable and shameless tradition” by ensuring at least one world-class hospital exists within Nigeria—“even if it’s a military hospital.”

Yet, President Tinubu himself has also faced criticism for continuing the same tradition. Since assuming office in May 2023, he has reportedly travelled to Paris multiple times for medical checkups, reinforcing the perception that Nigerian leaders lack confidence in the very healthcare system they oversee.

Critics argue that the reliance on foreign healthcare is not just a failure of policy but a profound betrayal of public trust. Nigeria’s public hospitals suffer from underfunding, dilapidated infrastructure, and a mass exodus of medical professionals, many of whom now work in the very countries to which Nigerian leaders turn in times of illness.

With Buhari’s burial scheduled for today in his hometown of Daura, Katsina State, attention is turning not just to the legacy of his leadership, but to the urgent need for healthcare reform at home, so that future presidents may live, heal, and if necessary, die on Nigerian soil.

By Sabiu Usman

On a Thursday evening, I began to experience symptoms of a fever. I took paracetamol, which temporarily reduced the temperature, but the fever returned more aggressively by nightfall. I spent the entire night shivering and praying for dawn, hoping to visit a nearby pharmacy for further treatment.

By morning, I was too weak to leave the house alone. I contacted a neighbour who often assisted people with basic medications. He came over with some drugs, inserted a cannula into my hand, and administered an injection. After some time, I felt slightly better, just enough to perform my early morning obligatory prayers.

After prayers, I visited my parents for the usual morning greetings. They noticed the cannula in my hand and expressed concern. I explained that I had been battling a fever all night. They offered prayers for my quick recovery and good health.

I returned to my room to rest, but a few hours later, the fever returned. I decided to visit a hospital for a proper diagnosis and treatment. I informed my mother and father, who responded with prayer and support.

Just as I stepped out, NEPA restored electricity, so I went back inside briefly to plug in my phones. Then I picked up my HMO & ATM card, some cash, and headed out. I stopped an Okada taxi motorcycle and climbed. However, midway through the trip, I suddenly felt dizzy and weak. I asked the Okada man to stop so I would not fall off. He parked and waited with me for about 10 minutes. When the dizziness did not subside, he advised me to stop another Okada when I felt better, and he left.

As I sat by the roadside with my head lowered, trying to recover, I heard someone call my name: “Sabiu, what are you doing here?” I looked up and saw a man who seemed to recognise me. I told him I was heading to Doma Hospital, and he offered to give me a ride. Without much thought, I entered his tinted glass car, given my background working in places like banks, I often encountered many people, so I did not find it unusual that he knew me, even though I could not recognise him.

I did not realise the danger until the doors shut behind me. The two men in the back seat immediately pulled me to the centre and forced a long beanie over my head, covering my face. We drove for about 25 minutes. When the cap was finally removed, I found myself in an unfamiliar room with three men surrounding me.

One of them, wearing a face mask and medical gloves, opened a kit, pulled out a syringe, and took my blood. He also forced me to give a saliva sample by pressing my jaw and collected it in a small container. Then he asked for a urine sample. I told him I did not feel the urge, but he insisted. One of the men, a tall, heavy-set individual, struck me twice in the back. The pain and fear triggered an immediate urge, and I had no choice but to comply. I gave the sample.

They offered me food, which I refused. I was scared and confused, still burning with fever. I noticed a wall clock, and it was 11:20 am. They left me locked in the room around noon and did not return with food and water until late that night, around 10:00 pm. Again, I refused to eat.

Later, one of the men sitting beside me was scrolling through what appeared to be my Facebook profile on his phone. I realised he had likely performed a reverse image search using the photo he had taken of me earlier. As he continued scrolling, a call came in from a contact saved as “Dr. Gombe.” He answered briefly, and shortly afterwards, they opened the door to let the doctor in. He appeared again wearing a face mask, this time also with a pair of glasses.

He reviewed some papers and likely test results and told the others that my vitals were fine and the only issue was my fever. He handed me medication I recognised and trusted, so I took it. It relieved the fever, but I remained cautious and continued to reject all food and drinks they offered.

That night, I could not sleep. I was terrified, and I knew something terrible was about to happen.

On Saturday morning, I refused to eat the breakfast they brought. They eventually left, leaving me alone inside the room. Around 9:00 pm, they returned. I overheard a tense conversation between the men and the doctor from behind the door. The doctor confirmed that everything had been arranged for a journey to Kaduna, where a surgery was scheduled for Monday. The driver, whom I had become familiar with by voice, asked about payment and the buyer of the kidney. Suddenly, one of them realised the door had not been entirely shut and might have allowed me to overhear their plans. He quickly pulled it closed and locked it properly.

When I realised they were planning to transport me to Kaduna, surgically remove my kidney, and sell it, a wave of fear surged through me. My heart began to race uncontrollably. I knew, without a doubt, that I had to find a way to escape or I might not live to tell the story.

That night, after they all left with the doctor, I gathered what little strength I had left and began inspecting the room. The doors were solid, and the windows were tightly secured with reinforced burglar-proof bars. Then, as I looked upward, I noticed the ceiling was made of a thin, rubber-like material, not as strong as the rest of the room. I dragged a chair to the centre, climbed onto the headrest, and carefully broke through two ceiling panels. With trembling hands, I pulled myself up into the roof cavity.

Carefully crawling along the ceiling joists, I broke through another panel leading into a different bedroom. I did not stop. I kept crawling, searching for a way out, until I spotted a weak point near the edge of the roof. With all the strength I could muster, I pushed through it, and to my relief, it opened to the outside.

I jumped down and instantly heard approaching footsteps. My heart pounded as I dove into a nearby flower bed, pressing my body flat against the ground. A man walked by, sweeping the area with a flashlight. I held my breath, praying he would not see me. Fortunately, he moved on to another part of the compound. When his back was turned, I leapt up, climbed onto a drum near the wall, and scaled it, disappearing into the night as fast as my legs could carry me.

I ran blindly, barefoot, and disoriented. Eventually, I found a road. I tried flagging down cars, but most sped past. Finally, an elderly man stopped. He asked where I was going. I said Nasarawo. He said he was not going that far but would drop me at Jekadafari Roundabout.

He noticed I was barefoot and looked me over suspiciously, probably questioning my mental state, but he said nothing. When we reached Jekadafari, I got down and began walking toward Central Primary School, exhausted and disoriented. Along the way, someone who looked familiar stopped me. Though I could not remember his name, we recognised each other. 

“Sabiu, what happened to you?” he asked, shocked. I did not have the strength to explain. I simply begged, “Please just take me home.” Without hesitation, he helped me onto his motorcycle and rode straight to our house in Nasarawo.

My mother was the only one at home; all of them were out searching for me. I knocked on her door and weakly said, “It’s me.” She opened it, and I collapsed in her arms, crying. She offered me water, which I drank desperately. After two sachets, I passed out from exhaustion and trauma.

My elder brother and his wife, both medical practitioners, had returned by then. They immediately began treating me. I was given injections and placed on intravenous fluids. Their swift care helped stabilise me.

I didn’t wake up until midnight the next day, Sunday. I had slept for more than 24 hours straight. My body had completely shut down from the fever, stress, and trauma.

When I finally regained enough strength to speak, I sat with my mother and narrated everything, from the moment I fell ill to my escape from the traffickers. As I said, her eyes filled with tears. She listened in horror, then pulled me close and wept.

Through her sobs, she kept repeating, “Alhamdulillah. Your prayers and ours worked. Allah protected you.” Today, I am recovering, still feeling aches and pains, but alive. I thank God for giving me the courage and the opportunity to escape.

I share my story to warn the public: organ trafficking is real. These people are organised and patient, and may even know your name or background. They work like professionals, from collecting samples to contacting buyers.

Please be cautious when interacting with strangers, even those who seem familiar. If you ever feel dizzy, disoriented, or experience sudden symptoms after a simple injection, seek professional medical help immediately.

Above all, always let your loved ones know where you are going and don’t move around alone, especially when you are unwell.

May Allah continue to protect us all, ameen.

Sabiu Usman can be reached via sabiuusman12@gmail.com.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

A UK court has sentenced Nigerian health worker Adewale Kudabo to six months in prison for kissing a vulnerable patient in his care, in what the judge described as a “serious abuse of trust.”

Kudabo, who was employed at a care facility in England, was found guilty of engaging in inappropriate and non-consensual physical contact with a patient. The court heard that the victim was emotionally and mentally vulnerable, and unable to provide informed consent.

Presiding Judge Alex Menary said Kudabo’s actions represented “a gross violation of professional boundaries,” and stressed the duty of care owed by healthcare workers to those they serve.

Henry Fernnandez, the prosecutor, said Kudabo was allocated to bathe the patient who was in a lot of pain.

When finished bathing the patient, Kudabo reportedly kissed her on the lips

“The patient was dependent on your care and protection,” Judge Menary said during sentencing. “Instead, you exploited that vulnerability.”

In addition to the prison sentence, Kudabo has been removed from the health care register and is barred from working in the care sector in the future.

By Oladoja M.O

How Nigeria’s Traditional Medicine Policy Falters in the Face of a Healthcare Crisis

Traditional medicine remains a lifeline in the heart of Nigeria’s vibrant communities. For millions, the village herbalist is not just a healer but the only accessible one. Yet, despite its ubiquity and potential, traditional medicine in Nigeria remains largely relegated to the fringes of the healthcare system.

Why? Because the one policy that could breathe life into it, the “Traditional Medicine Policy” of 2007, is quite frankly a policy without a pulse.

It exists on paper, yes. But in practice, it drifts in the ether of neglect, underfunding, and governmental lip service. The intent was noble: to recognise, integrate, and regulate traditional and complementary medicine (T&CM) harmoniously with Nigeria’s conventional medical framework. But over 15 years later, the landscape remains fragmented institutions, unrecognised practitioners, and a glaring vacuum of legislation that could bind it all into something functional.

The 2007 policy envisioned institutionalising traditional medicine education, promoting evidence-based practices, and protecting indigenous knowledge. It proposed the development of curricula, collaborations between practitioners and scientists, and most importantly, the integration of traditional health workers into mainstream healthcare delivery.

But here’s the reality in 2025:

Despite repeated attempts to pass the Council for Traditional, Alternative, and Complementary Medicine Practice Bill, there is no functional regulatory council for traditional medicine practitioners.

No constitutionally defined or legally licensed role for herbalists or traditional health workers within Nigeria’s medical profession.

Institutions like NICONMTECH, Ibadan College of Natural Medicine, and African College of Traditional Medicine train thousands annually, but no professional pathway exists to license or employ them formally.

Only National Diplomas or certificates exist; there’s no accredited B.Sc. program, no postgraduate clinical practice recognition, and no universal standard for certification.

The result? A generation of “trained” traditional medicine practitioners with no seat at the healthcare table.

Counting some blessings, Nigeria’s Ministry of Health did establish the Department of Traditional, Complementary & Alternative Medicine in 2018, but its impact has been symbolic at best. NAFDAC mandated herbal product registration and labelling, which doesn’t translate into practitioner recognition or integration. The Natural Medicine Development Agency (NNMDA) was signed into law in 2019 to spearhead research and development, but there is no central governing council, which means that coordination remains chaotic. State governments have made some strides, e.g., Governor Soludo’s Anambra State Herbal Practice Law, but it is an isolated effort with no national backing. Ultimately, it’s like having a beautifully designed ship without a captain or compass.

One might ask, why does this matter more than ever now?

It is no longer breaking news that Nigeria is bleeding professionals. The “Japa” wave has not spared doctors, nurses, or dentists. With over 65% of qualified health workers seeking opportunities abroad, Nigeria’s healthcare system is being hollowed out from within.

To compound this, the country now faces blocked financing from global donors like the U.S., partly due to concerns over poor transparency, suboptimal health data management, and systemic inefficiencies. With this dwindling foreign aid and a crumbling workforce, we should explore every viable alternative, and traditional medicine stands at the crossroads.

But rather than mobilise this ready workforce, we shackle them with policy paralysis, leaving our vast herbal and traditional knowledge base languishing in semi-formal practice, unprotected, unregulated, and unsupported.

Time after time, the National Association of Nigerian Traditional Medicine Practitioners (NANTMP) has repeatedly called on the National Assembly to pass the Traditional, Complementary and Alternative Council of Nigeria (TCACN) Bill. Their plea is simple: recognise, regulate, and give us a voice in the national health discourse. They are not asking for a free ride, but for the years of training at herbal schools, skills acquisition centres, and research institutes across Nigeria to be met with a legitimate path to service.

After all, how do you tell a Nigerian College of Natural Medicine Technology graduate that their diploma is valid, but they are legally invisible? How do you justify decades of policy silence when the country desperately needs all hands on deck?

A living policy evolves with need, responds to gaps, and energises sectors. The 2007 policy is comatose, hanging on by technical documents and departmental charades. What it needs now is:

An active national council to regulate, license, and accredit T&CM practitioners.

Curriculum reform and NUC-approved B.Sc. degrees to professionalise training.

Legal recognition of traditional practitioners under Nigeria’s health law.

Clear collaborative frameworks between conventional health professionals.

Nigeria cannot afford to sideline its heritage medicine when its hospitals are overcrowded, its workforce is thinning, and its people are desperate for healing, wherever it may come from.

We do not need another policy document. What we need is a pulse.

Oladoja M.O writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com

By Muhammad Abubakar

The academic community is mourning the passing of Professor Abubakar Roko, a respected lecturer in the Department of Computer Science, Faculty of Physical and Computing. He died after a period of illness, despite efforts made to secure advanced medical treatment abroad.

Professor Roko had been battling a critical health condition that required specialist care, prompting a crowdfunding campaign to support his medical trip to Cairo, Egypt. The campaign received overwhelming support from colleagues, students, friends, and well-wishers.

Notably, the Governor of Kano State, Engineer Abba Kabir Yusuf, contributed ₦5,000,000 to the cause, a gesture that was widely appreciated by the family and academic community.

In a message announcing his passing, the department expressed deep sorrow and extended heartfelt thanks to everyone who supported him during his time of need. “We are saddened to announce the demise of Professor Abubakar Roko… May Allah SWT reward you abundantly,” the statement read.

Prayers are being offered across the campus and beyond for the repose of his soul. “May Allah bestow His grace on him,” the department added.

Professor Roko is remembered not only for his academic excellence but also for his humility and dedication to the advancement of computer science education in Nigeria.

By The Daily Reality

In what can only be described as a disturbing reflection of neglect, The Daily Reality has uncovered the deplorable state of facilities at the Tashan Babiye Primary Health Care Centre’s Accident and Emergency Unit in Bauchi metropolis.

A visit by our reporter revealed a distressing scene: a tattered, unsanitary sickbed where patients are expected to receive emergency medical care.

The bed, visibly torn and heavily stained, sits in a room with equally grimy walls—conditions that pose serious health risks to the very people the facility is meant to treat.

Despite repeated efforts by our correspondent to speak with the hospital’s management for a comment on the deteriorating condition, no official response was received as of the time of filing this report.

What makes this situation even more shocking is the location of the hospital—situated just a few kilometres from the Bauchi State Government House.

The proximity of such a facility to the seat of power raises urgent questions about the government’s commitment to basic health care delivery in the state.

Tashan Babiye PHC, which has been in operation since 1978, is supposed to offer round-the-clock services, including emergency care.

Yet, the condition of its facilities tells a troubling story of neglect and abandonment.

The image attached to this report, captured by our reporter, shows the exact state of the bed currently in use at the emergency unit.

It is a stark symbol of the decay within a health system that countless Bauchi residents depend on.

Public health experts warn that such conditions not only endanger patients but also demoralize medical staff who work under impossible circumstances.

A patient The Daily Reality spoke with calls on the Bauchi State Ministry of Health and the relevant authorities to immediately address the rot at the Tashan Babiye Primary Health Care Centre—starting with the very bed meant to save lives.

By Oladoja M.O

In a country where bold promises often fade into political noise, something refreshingly different is happening. A movement that started quietly, with little fanfare, is now humming with purpose, momentum, and an energy that cannot be ignored. The 774 National Health Fellows programme (NHF) initiative, launched a few months ago by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, is not just another government announcement lost in the pages of bureaucracy but a living force, a symbol of action, and a spark rapidly becoming a flame.

At its core, the programme is a strategic investment in youth leadership for health, designed to place one young, vibrant fellow in every local government area across the federation. But what sounded like a brilliant idea on paper has quickly become bigger, bolder, and beautifully human. Under the coordination of the Sector-Wide Approach Secretariat, the NHF initiative is reshaping what grassroots health intervention looks like. 

The young professionals are not just observing the system but are being immersed in it and studying the core concepts of public health, data analytics, and leadership. As of April 30th, it was made public that they had already completed over 73 per cent of their assigned learning modules. That is such a fantastic feat, Signalling that these young Nigerians are hungry to learn, ready to lead, and prepared to deliver.

Beyond the e-learning, every fellow has been paired with an experienced health sector mentor, creating powerful bridges between knowledge and action. Available information showed that over 2,100 structured mentorship engagements have taken place, alongside more than 6,000 follow-up calls to troubleshoot, guide, and refine their experience in real time. This showcases what mentorship with muscle and real grooming looks like.

Moving forward, another exciting phase is here. The Capstone projects. Showing that these fellows are not just learning and listening. They are launching. They are mapping the real health challenges in their communities and crafting innovative, locally tailored solutions. This is outlined as far from the usual cut-and-paste interventions. Indeed, these are not just symbolic gestures. Rather, seeds of lasting change. A blueprint for the kind of youth engagement that works, and not just a flash in the pan.

Much credit must go to the Honourable Minister of Health, Professor Muhammad Ali Pate, who has done more than supervise. He has inspired. With every update, he speaks with authority and visible passion for the possibilities this programme unlocks. His hands-on leadership reminds us that good governance is not about policies alone, but people. Not about titles, but tangible results. The collaboration with local government leaders, traditional rulers, and State Commissioners for Health has ensured the programme’s success. Together, they have ensured that the fellows are not strangers in their host communities. They have been welcomed, embraced, and empowered to act. Their presence has been described as transformative, and rightly so.

As we hail progress so far, a big focus on sustainability must be the centre of thought. The NHF programme must not end as a one-time experiment. It must become institutionalised. The structure is already in place. The model is working. The results are rolling in. The political and budgetary will to scale this from pilot to permanent remains. The impact of new cohorts of fellows being trained yearly would be tremendous. The ripple effect of turning these 774 fellows into thousands over the next decade will be epic. Nigeria would not just be training health professionals. It would generate problem solvers, data warriors, and service-driven leaders. 

More importantly, the data collected by these fellows across LGAs must be treated as a goldmine. All the information must be analysed, shared, and applied to shape more innovative and targeted policies, responsive budgeting, and real-time decision-making. As time goes on and more capstone projects unfold, we will witness a subtle but decisive shift in our health governance story. 

When young people are not just beneficiaries of change, but creators of it, the shift cannot be undervalued. When they are not just consulted, but trusted. When they are not just inspired, but given the steering wheel.

Even though Nigeria’s health system still has other challenges, even though the journey is long, this initiative is proof that with the right strategy and the right people, progress will not just be a possibility in the abstract. It will become a happening event—something visible, something contagious.

Renewed Hope in Motion is not just a slogan but a movement. A youth-led revolution quietly takes shape in every LGA, one fellow at a time. It is the sound of a country remembering how to believe again. 

And best of all, it is only just getting started.

Oladoja M.O writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com