Health

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

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

In a touching act of compassion, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf of Kano State has adopted Hauwa Yusuf (popularly known as Ummi), a 31-year-old woman battling a rare and debilitating illness known as muscular dystrophy.

Ummi, a law graduate of Bayero University Kano (BUK), has been living with the incurable condition for 18 years. Despite her severe physical limitations and financial hardship, she defied the odds to complete her university education. Today, she can barely walk without support.

Social media personality and academic, Dr. Muhsin Ibrahim, who has followed Ummi’s story for two years, revealed that she had previously received some assistance from Air Peace CEO, Allen Onyema, who sponsored a short medical trip to India. However, her condition remained unmanaged until a turning point came on the night of May 18, 2025.

In a desperate bid for help, Ummi reached out to Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf via text message. The Governor responded promptly and compassionately. According to Dr. Ibrahim, Governor Abba promised to take full responsibility for her well-being, saying he would do “everything a father would do for a daughter.”

In a symbolic gesture of solidarity, the Governor connected Ummi with his own daughter, also a law student, fostering a personal friendship to provide emotional support. Additionally, he directed that Ummi’s family be provided with adequate food supplies and pledged to make her upcoming Sallah celebration “memorable.”

In a further show of generosity, the Governor ordered that Amina, a lady who has spent years caring for Ummi, be placed on the Government House’s casual staff payroll with immediate effect.

The Governor’s actions have drawn widespread praise, with many Nigerians taking to social media to commend his empathy and swift intervention.

“May Allah make it easy for Ummi and reward Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf handsomely,” Dr. Ibrahim concluded in his heartfelt tribute.

By Oladoja M.O

Adeoye Hussain Chukwuebuka came in glowing, the kind of glow that only pure purpose can give. Fresh from the furnace of medical college, his results bore the scent of brilliance, his stride the rhythm of someone born to heal. His white coat shimmered in the sterile hallway lights, worn not just as a uniform, but as a covenant. His stethoscope draped around his neck like the bronze serpent lifted in the wilderness, signalling a promise of life to those on the brink of death.

He truly came in, not seeking escape or greener pastures. He came with a fire. A fire to serve, to make an impact, to stay.

But then… housemanship happened.

In just two weeks to the new life, Chukwuebuka’s glow began to dim. Not metaphorically, but literally. His cheeks, once full, shrank. His eyes, once bright, dulled. He was fatter before — not just in body, but in dreams. He came with life. The system began to drain it, slowly, ruthlessly.

At first, sleep became a luxury, unaffordable anymore. Then his sanity. Later, his joy.

Adeoye found himself in a loop of exhaustion so grave it warped reality. He would resume by 8 a.m., and wouldn’t see sleep again for 48 hours — not once, not twice, but repeatedly. As soon as he thought he could breathe, just for a minute, a call would come in — “Come to the ward”, “There’s an emergency”, “You’re needed in theatre.” Again. And again… and again.

His personal life? Hussain could see it walk off him without his approval. Even his relationship that survived the inferno of medical school was broken off simply because there was nothing left of him to give. Not even text messages. Not even voice notes. Nothing. Just like that, a life he already had in play, joyful about, phased off.

Oh! Could he even shake off one of the haunting experiences he forever wished he could have helped with? Adeoye had already been on duty for over 24 hours when an emergency struck. A baby. Not breathing. Even at his lowest point, he could not stand not doing anything to save the situation. His body moved on instinct… he rushed, assessed, and started resuscitation. But five minutes in, the rush wore off. His hands gave up. He couldn’t even lift his arms. His fingers couldn’t form pressure. His own pulse felt faint. And the baby…. The baby slipped away. Left. Not just into death, but into the cracks of a broken system.

And on the report, he had to write the truth — “Could not complete resuscitation due to extreme personal exhaustion.”

That sentence continues to haunt him.

It wasn’t just a failure of strength. It was a failure of structure. And his friends across other hospitals? They were fainting. Collapsing mid-shift. Crying in toilet stalls. Living like machines with rusting gears.

And you would think, with this superhuman sacrifice, the reward would be more than a room could contain.

But no.

The pay was barely enough to survive. But Adeoye said, and meant it — he would take less if it meant he could have a piece of his soul back. If he could breathe. If he could be human. This isn’t about money alone, but about dignity. About survival. About choosing between saving lives and watching his own slip away.

And even if he summons all the strength left in his marrow, there’s still this: no equipment. Oxygen runs out. Monitors don’t beep. Gloves tear. Syringes are blunt. Catheters are scarce. The barest minimum? A luxury. And in that darkness, they still whisper: “Do your best.”

What best? With what tools? With what strength?

Even those who still carry passion like a torch are now shivering in the cold winds of burnout. The system is crushing the very shoulders it leans on.

Why?

The answer is bitter: a workforce too thin to carry a country.

How many doctors are produced yearly? Nowhere near enough. And even among those, only a fraction secure placement for housemanship. Why? Because merit is suffocated by political interference. Only about 20% of placements are based on merit. The rest are claimed by sons of power, daughters of connections, and family friends of politicians. Many brilliant minds, like Adeoye once was, remain stranded, waiting, and wasting.

And yet, those lucky enough to be placed are punished for it. Overworked. Underequipped. Undervalued.

And Adeoye? He really didn’t want to leave. He honestly was determined to stay. He actually wanted to believe. But now? He would give anything to go.

Not for luxury.
Not for pride.
Just to survive.

This is the irony: Nigeria’s housemanship year, which is supposed to be a bridge from classroom to clinic, has become a crucible. Rather than refine, it breaks. Becomes a trapdoor instead of a launchpad. 

And this is not just about Adeoye Hussain Chukwuebuka.
It’s about hundreds. Thousands.
Many of whom came in glowing. Now walking corpses — souls intact, bodies crumbling.

They didn’t want to leave. They really didn’t.
Until housemanship happened.

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

By Uzair Adam

The Federal Government has kicked off a major healthcare initiative in Kano State, offering free emergency medical services to indigent patients—beginning with the accreditation of Dala Orthopaedic Hospital under the National Emergency Medical Service and Ambulance System (NEMSAS).

At the official unveiling on Friday, the hospital’s Chief Medical Director, Dr. Nurudeen Isa, described the move as a significant milestone in the administration’s health agenda.

He noted that the facility would now offer 48 hours of free emergency care to underprivileged patients brought in from any part of the state.

“Today marks a new chapter in emergency healthcare delivery—one where the poor no longer have to suffer or die in silence due to lack of funds,” Dr. Isa said.

Funded through the Federation Account, NEMSAS was established to ensure that Nigerians, particularly the most vulnerable, receive timely and life-saving emergency treatment.

The program targets cases such as road traffic accidents, obstetric complications, snake bites, gunshot wounds, and other urgent conditions.

Dr. Isa revealed that Dala Orthopaedic is the first accredited facility in Kano under this scheme, with more public and private hospitals expected to follow soon.

Representing the Federal Ministry of Health at the event, Dr. Emuren Doubra, Head of Operations at NEMSAS, said the initiative is sustained through a statutory allocation—5% of the Basic Health Care Provision Fund—as mandated by the National Health Act.

“Our goal is to eliminate financial barriers during emergencies. We’re partnering with both private and public hospitals to ensure that poor Nigerians aren’t left stranded when minutes matter most,” he said.

The program is part of the Renewed Hope Agenda for Health and falls under the broader National Health Sector Renewal and Investment Initiative, led by Coordinating Minister of Health and Social Welfare, Professor Muhammad Ali Pate.

To facilitate prompt response, the initiative includes a fleet of ambulances equipped with medical gear and staffed by professionals, working in collaboration with the Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC) to transport emergency patients from any location in the state.

“These ambulances are mobile emergency units. They begin treatment at the scene and alert hospitals in advance so preparations can start immediately,” said Dr. Doubra.

One of the program’s early beneficiaries, Aliyu Andul, shared his story. After a severe accident, he was advised in hospitals across Enugu and Lagos to undergo leg amputation. But receiving care at Dala Hospital changed everything.

“I was told my leg should be amputated. But when I came here, I got better treatment. I am now recovering—you can see I am standing,” he said, expressing gratitude for the free treatment.

The initiative is expected to scale up across Kano State, setting a new standard for emergency healthcare delivery in Nigeria.

By Oladoja M.O

In recent years, the word “Japa” has become an emblem of escape, a chant of hope, and sadly, a whistle of despair. Particularly in Nigeria’s healthcare sector, the mass exodus of young, vibrant medical professionals has left our system gasping for air. What we face is not just a brain drain—it’s a heart drain. And in the middle of this haemorrhage lies a controversial bill, once proposed by Honourable Ganiyu Abiodun Johnson, now buried under the backlash of public outrage.

But was the bill completely out of line, or was it simply unfinished thinking?

It is no longer news that Nigeria’s doctor-to-patient ratio falls miserably short of the World Health Organisation’s recommendation. Yet what may not be so widely understood is that the stressful, overburdening conditions often cited as a reason to “Japa” are partly the consequences of those who have already left. One person’s departure makes another’s stay unbearable. The domino effect deepens.

While the most effective and lasting solutions lie in long-term efforts—revamping the economy, tackling insecurity, and fixing systemic rot—we must also admit that time is of the essence. The house is on fire, and we need water now, even if the fire truck is on its way.

There’s this question of “can patriotism be stirred in a broken system?”

Critics often point to a profound lack of patriotism among the youth, and it’s not unfounded. But when young Nigerians have watched corruption erode public trust, when they are owed salaries, and when survival is a struggle, can we honestly ask for blind loyalty? Still, the bitter truth remains: if patriotism isn’t growing naturally in this climate, maybe it needs to be carefully engineered, not through coercion, but through incentivised responsibility. 

The original bill proposed tying Nigerian-trained doctors and dentists to a mandatory five-year practice before granting full licensure. It sparked nationwide uproar, accused of being coercive, discriminatory, and even unconstitutional. The medical council body argued that such a condition could only apply to those whose education was publicly funded. And frankly, they had a point.

However, what if the bill didn’t force, but inspired commitment instead? Clearly, the strategy to curb this heartbreaking issue lies between the government and the various governing councils of these professions. After an extensive and wide brainstorming, it is my opinion that the following recommendations should be weighed and given consideration;

Let the Medical and Dental Council adopt a digital licensing model that is highly secure and tamper-proof, implement a differential licensing fee, where those practising within Nigeria pay subsidised rates (e.g., ₦50,000).

In contrast, those seeking international practice pay a premium (e.g., ₦250,000). Substantial penalties for forgeries should be introduced, ranging from travel bans to long-term suspension from practice. Also, full international licensing should probably be accessible only after 5 – 8 years of verified practice in Nigeria, but with allowances for truly and genuinely exceptional circumstances.

Each Local Government Area (LGA) can be mandated to sponsor at least two candidates annually for critical medical professions, especially medicine and nursing. This would ensure that the selection is need-based and done after national admission lists are released to prevent misuse by those already financially capable. Aside from other ongoing state or philanthropic sponsorships, this alone could inject an extra 1,500–2,000 health professionals yearly into the system.

Beyond the Medical Residency Training Fund (MRTF), the government can introduce provisions for payment of residency program fees, subsidies for first and second fellowship exams, partner with international and local equipment companies to provide cutting-edge residency exposure, and full sponsorship for mandatory travel during training with conditions of local practice attached. More importantly, it should be to the core interest of the government to streamline the bureaucracy around MRTF disbursements to reduce frustration and improve compliance.

For these health professionals committed to staying, the government can introduce affordable credit schemes for cars and home ownership. This strategy speaks not just of comfort but dignity and hope, ensuring these professionals see a future here. A doctor with a home loan and a dependable car is more likely to stay and build a life.

Relatively, in a bid to arrest some unnecessary uproar from various other professions, the government can broaden the application of similar strategies to other key professions facing mass emigration, like pharmacy, engineering, and IT. Let emphasis be on this is a quick-response initiative and not a substitute for long-term development, and also communicate clearly that staying doesn’t mean stagnation but service with reward.

No one can deny that Nigeria’s system is in a broken state, and no young professionals should be intentionally shackled to that broken system. It is also true that patriotism cannot be forced, but it can be nurtured. These professionals can, however, be valued, supported, and invited into a new contract of service, not as slaves to a nation, but as partners in rebuilding her.

Therefore, before we completely dismiss the Hon. Ganiyu Johnson Bill as modern slavery, perhaps we should ask: did it simply lack the right lens? With the right blend of compassion, policy, and investment, could it become a promise and not a prison?

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

By Saifullahi Attahir

Although not an expert in global health, the future for Nigeria’s healthcare intervention looks bleak.

Over the decades, we have become overly dependent on foreign aid in managing HIV/AIDS, Tuberculosis, Malaria, Maternal mortality, and malnutrition. Looking at it critically, it seems only a few medical conditions are not supported by foreign aid. 

Of course, it’s true that these medications would cost a huge chunk of our budget if left to be funded domestically.

As someone who works and mingles in the lower ranks, I have witnessed many sorrowful occurrences;Nigerians and even healthcare professionals do not contribute to improving the situation every day. 

The gross mismanagement, working solely for the sake of remuneration, and how locals can manipulate thingsto ensure that funding for the Polio and measles vaccine campaign keeps coming is abominable. 

Local community health workers eagerly take what little support is available for the poor victims. I have witnessed dozens of people only interested in switching to public health positions to work with NGOs (Non-Governmental Organisations). Everyone rushes toward the available funding for nurses, doctors, anatomists,  scientists, etc.. 

This is apart from an article I read in 2016 by the legendary Sonala Olumhense about the 2010 report by the Global Fund about crude mismanagement of the fund by several Nigerian agencies regarding the money allocated to fight HIV/AIDS, TB, and Malaria.

Ideally, foreign funding should not be eternal; the country must find a way to sustain the programs.

 Public health is well-versed in public-private partnerships (PPPS) and the design of each primary healthcare program so that locals can sustain it. Since day one, this has raised the issue of affordability, which the US should have taught Nigerians how to develop drugs locally at a cheaper rate, so as not to depend on their markets and pharmaceutical companies.

President Trump has already come, and we should expect and prepare for more shocks rather than continual crying out. This should serve as a wake-up call for our policymakers and the President to find a way out.

It’s unlikely the USAID funding would be reversed. We should have prepared for the rainy days ahead.

Saifullahi Attahir, a 400l Medical student of  Federal University Dutse, wrote via saifullahiattahir93@gmail.com.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

A grieving husband has alleged gross negligence and unprofessional conduct at Jummai Babangida Aliyu Maternal and Neonatal Hospital, Minna, following the death of his wife, Ramatu, after a surgical procedure on April 24, 2025.

UB Shehu, who shared a detailed account of the events leading up to his wife’s death, claimed that his wife was the last of nine patients to undergo surgery that day. During the procedure, an unstable power supply reportedly forced staff to switch from the main source to a smaller backup generator, which Shehu emphasized was not a diesel-powered unit but a basic household generator.

According to Shehu, Ramatu showed signs of critical distress immediately after surgery. While other patients were reportedly stable, his wife began bleeding excessively due to a drainage bag not being properly attached — a task he claimed the attending nurse was unqualified to perform.

“She told me she didn’t know how to plug the bag,” Shehu stated, expressing frustration that a doctor did not attend to the situation until five hours later. Even then, she only gave brief instructions without examining the patient.

Shehu described a harrowing night in which his wife’s condition worsened, alleging that she was repeatedly denied water and food and that his pleas for medical assistance were ignored or delayed. As her condition deteriorated, he said senior nurses refused to help, citing departmental responsibilities.

By 7:04 a.m., his wife began gasping for air. Despite his cries for help, Shehu said the ward lacked oxygen, prompting a rushed transfer to the ICU, where attempts to administer oxygen reportedly failed due to ill-fitting equipment. Ramatu was pronounced dead at 7:24 a.m.

The hospital has yet to respond to the allegations. The account has sparked conversations online about healthcare standards and the need for reform in patient care practices across public hospitals in Nigeria.

By Uzair Adam 

The Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Nyesom Wike, has ordered a full crackdown on unregistered hospitals and quack medical personnel operating within the territory.

The minister’s media aide, Lere Olayinka, disclosed this in a statement on Saturday, following the death of a pregnant woman at a private facility in Durumi, Abuja, after undergoing a caesarean section.

According to the statement, Wike warned that anyone found operating an illegal health facility or working in an unregistered hospital would be arrested and prosecuted.

He described the incident as regrettable, especially given that vulnerable groups, including pregnant women, are eligible for free registration under the Federal Capital Territory Health Insurance Scheme (FHIS). 

He noted that despite this opportunity, many pregnant women were still patronising unlicensed and unsafe facilities.

“In the FCT, vulnerable persons, including pregnant women, enjoy free enrollment into the FHIS, granting them free access to services covered under the basic minimum health package through primary healthcare centres,” he said.

Olayinka added that, in support of the federal government’s ‘Renewed Hope Agenda’ and the FCT Administration’s zero tolerance for maternal mortality, several hospitals—including Gwarinpa, Nyanya, Abaji, and Kuje General Hospitals—have been designated as comprehensive emergency obstetric and neonatal care centres, offering free cesarean sections.

He urged pregnant women to utilise these government services instead of risking their lives by seeking care from quacks and unregistered facilities.

The statement also recalled that on Friday, 35-year-old Chekwube Chinagorom was brought dead to the Asokoro District Hospital after a caesarean section at the unregistered facility in Durumi. 

Although the baby survived and was referred for further care at the Asokoro hospital, the incident raised alarm over the activities of illegal operators.

The Private Health Establishments Registration and Monitoring Committee (PHERMC) investigated and confirmed that the hospital was unregistered. 

Only one staff member, Mr. Simon Godiya, a junior community health extension worker, was found on duty during an inspection.

Godiya informed officials that Murtala Jumma performed the surgery alongside another unidentified person. Efforts to reach Jumma have so far been unsuccessful.

The PHERMC team, accompanied by police officers from the Durumi Divisional Headquarters, subsequently handed over the case to the police for further investigation.

By Oladoja M.O

Across all health-related policies, discussions, and publications, maternal and child care undoubtedly ranks among the top three priorities of our national healthcare system. Without mincing words, it constitutes a core aspect of public health that rightly deserves every ounce of attention it receives. One might ask, why is this so? 

A report by the World Health Organisation (WHO) underscores the alarming statistics, revealing that, in 2020, a maternity-related death occurred nearly every two minutes. This equates to approximately 800 daily maternal deaths from preventable causes across various regions of the world. 

Similarly, UNICEF, in one of its latest reports, noted that while Nigeria constitutes only 2.4% of the world’s population, it accounts for a staggering 10% of global maternal deaths. Recent figures indicate a maternal mortality rate of 576 per 100,000 live births, ranking as the fourth highest globally. Furthermore, an estimated 262,000 neonatal deaths occur annually at birth, the second-highest national total in the world.

Beyond these mortality figures, numerous other health complications afflict this demographic, often with far-reaching, detrimental consequences. Some of these complications include hypertension, gestational diabetes, infections, preeclampsia, preterm labour, depression and anxiety, pregnancy loss or miscarriage, and stillbirth. These conditions may jeopardise the health of the mother, fetus, or both, and can be life-threatening if not properly managed. With such distressing statistics, it is impossible not to prioritise this critical issue.

Recognising the gravity of the situation, the government has implemented several initiatives to address maternal and child health concerns. Notable programs include the Midwife Service Scheme, which aimed to enhance the healthcare workforce by deploying midwives to provide maternal health services in rural areas, and the Saving One Million Lives Program for Results, a performance-based funding initiative aimed at improving maternal and child health outcomes at the state level.

Additionally, the Maternal Mortality Reduction Innovation Initiative (MAMII) prioritises life-saving interventions for women and newborns, strengthening healthcare services in the 172 most affected local government areas through supply- and demand-side strategies.

However, despite these concerted efforts and the significant attention accorded to maternal and child healthcare, a critical yet insidious aspect of this discourse remains grossly overlooked—oral health. Among the myriad etiological factors contributing to maternal and child health complications, the intersection of oral health and overall maternal well-being is frequently ignored. 

A 2024 study highlighted that a mother’s oral health status, knowledge, literacy, attitudes, behaviours, and socioeconomic status are pivotal determinants of childhood caries. Another recent study underscored the detrimental impact of poor oral health during pregnancy, linking it to adverse outcomes such as preterm birth, low birth weight, preeclampsia, gingival ulcerations, pregnancy granulomas, gingivitis, and pregnancy tumours (epulis gravidarum). 

According to a CDC physician, improving pregnant women’s oral health is one of the most effective strategies for preventing early childhood caries. She further emphasised that oral health is an essential component of prenatal care, as poor maternal oral health can significantly compromise both maternal and neonatal health, setting the foundation for lifelong health challenges. Additionally, periodontitis has been strongly associated with adverse pregnancy outcomes, including preterm birth and low birth weight.

Given these profound implications, one would expect a holistic approach to maternal healthcare—one that integrates oral health awareness and services into prenatal care. Unfortunately, this is far from reality. A 2024 scoping review revealed that dental service utilisation among pregnant women in Nigeria is alarmingly low, with visits largely driven by curative rather than preventive needs.

Despite the serious risks associated with poor oral health during pregnancy, oral health education remains conspicuously absent from antenatal awareness curricula, and primary healthcare centres lack dedicated oral health officers.

Thus, this serves as a call for urgent action and heightened awareness. The advocacy for integrating oral health education into antenatal classes must persist, as maternal knowledge of oral healthcare is often inadequate. 

Pregnancy is a critical period that necessitates heightened attention to oral health, and dental clinic visits should be regarded as an indispensable component of prenatal care. Most importantly, the government must prioritise the strategic deployment of public oral health officers to ensure that this vulnerable demographic’s unique oral healthcare needs are adequately addressed.

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