CHIMAMANDA’S TRAGEDY: HEALTH IN NIGERIA AND SORROWS IN A SYSTEM THAT HAS LOST ITS SOUL

 CHIMAMANDA’S TRAGEDY: HEALTH IN NIGERIA AND SORROWS IN A SYSTEM THAT HAS LOST ITS SOUL

 

by

 

Dr. Uzodinma Adirieje

Global Health and Development Projects Consultant | Conferences Organiser | Trainer| Facilitator |

 Researcher | M&E Expert | Civil Society Leader | Policy Advocate

📞 🟢 +234 803 472 5905 | ✉️ afrepton@gmail.com| 🌐 https://www.afrihealthcsos.org

 

 

The anguished cry credited to celebrated writer Chimamanda - “My son would be alive today if not for an incident at Euracare Hospital on January 6th” is not just the lament of a bereaved mother. It is an indictment of a health system that has become dangerously casual with human life. The painful narrative of little Nkanu’s final hours, as shared by his father Ugo Egbujo, exposes with frightening clarity the everyday realities of medical negligence, weak regulation, and institutional failure that plague Nigeria’s health care services.

 

Nkanu was not brought to the hospital in a hopeless condition. He had an infection, was stable, and was being prepared for a medically supervised evacuation to Johns Hopkins Hospital in the United States the following day. A world-class team was waiting to receive him. All that was required in Lagos were routine but critical preparatory procedures: a lumbar puncture, an MRI, and the insertion of a central line. These are not extraordinary interventions. They are standard procedures in any hospital that claims tertiary or specialist status.

 

Yet, in the space of a few hours at a supposedly high-end facility, a child who was alive and fighting was gone.

 

The account is chilling. Nkanu was sedated with propofol, a powerful anesthetic drug that requires strict dosing, continuous monitoring, and immediate readiness to intervene if complications occur. According to the narrative, he was overdosed, became unresponsive, and was not properly monitored. The anesthesiologist reportedly carried him on his shoulder instead of ensuring he was safely connected to monitoring and oxygen. He was later found to have seizures, suffered cardiac arrest, was ventilated, and ultimately died. Even more horrifying are claims that this same anesthesiologist had previously overdosed children and yet was still allowed to practice, instead of facing the law.

 

If these facts are confirmed, what happened was not an accident. It was a systemic failure, organised murder and, arguably, criminal negligence.

 

At Afrihealth Optonet Association (AHOA), we have long argued that Nigeria’s health crisis is not only about funding, infrastructure, or brain drain. It is also about governance, accountability, and a generalized culture of impunity that allows unsafe practices to thrive. The tragedy of Nkanu exposes all three.

 

Nigeria has some of the best-trained doctors and nurses in the world. They work in the NHS in the UK, in hospitals across the United States, Canada, and the Gulf. Yet within Nigeria, too many facilities operate without rigorous clinical governance, without enforceable protocols, without accountability, and without fear of consequences when things go wrong. In such an environment, a negligent practitioner can continue to harm patients, and hospitals can quietly close ranks instead of confronting malpractice.

 

The role of regulation is critical here. Bodies such as the Medical and Dental Council of Nigeria (MDCN), the Nursing and Midwifery Council, and hospital accreditation agencies exist to protect patients. But in practice, they are often slow, under-resourced, or compromised by political, financial, business, and professional pressures. Complaints drag on for years. Families are worn down by legal costs, intimidation, and bureaucracy. Meanwhile, the same doctors continue to practice, and the same unsafe systems remain in place.

 

What makes this case particularly painful is that it occurred in a private, supposedly premium hospital. Many Nigerians believe that if they can just afford private care, they will be safe. Nkanu’s story shatters that illusion. When regulation is weak, even expensive hospitals can become dangerous. Quality is not guaranteed by price; it is guaranteed by standards, compliance, monitoring, and accountability.

 

There is also the human dimension that statistics cannot capture. Chimamanda’s words speak of a grief that will never fully heal. “It is like living your worst nightmare. I will never survive the loss of my child.” This is the true cost of health system failure: not just lost lives, but shattered families, lifelong trauma, and a deepening distrust of institutions that are meant to protect us.

 

Nigeria loses tens of thousands of lives every year to preventable causes - maternal deaths, newborn complications, untreated infections, and medical errors. Each of these deaths has a name, a story, and a family left behind. Yet most pass quietly, without headlines or outrage. It often takes the voice of a prominent figure to force the nation to pay attention. That, too, is part of the injustice.

 

NEXT URGENT CRITICAL ACTIONS

 

Nigeria’s Honourable Minister for Health is expected to ensure a transparent, independent, and thorough investigation into Nkanu’s death. Not an internal hospital panel, but a process that involves professional regulators, legal authorities, and patient safety experts. If negligence is proven, there must be real consequences, including loss of license and criminal prosecution where appropriate.

 

Nigeria needs a stronger culture of clinical governance. Every hospital must have clear protocols for sedation, anesthesia, monitoring, and emergency response, and these must be audited regularly. Continuous professional development should not be a formality but a requirement tied to patient safety outcomes. Patients and their families must have accessible channels for redress. Medical malpractice should not be a taboo subject. Whistle blowers within hospitals should be protected, not punished. We must recognise that health care is not a luxury. It is a right. Whether a child is born into a famous family or an anonymous one, their life is equally precious. The system must reflect that truth.

 

Nkanu’s life was cut short in circumstances that should never have happened in any society. If we allow this tragedy to fade without reform, accountability, reward, or punishment, we become complicit in the next one. This sorrow of Chimamanda and her family must become a turning point for Nigeria’s health system, towards competence, compassion, and accountability. Yes, we can!

 

 

Dr. Uzodinma Adirieje is a Nigerian development expert, consultant, health economist, evaluator, climate activist, SDG Champion, and civil society leader renowned for his writings and knowledge-management leadership. As CEO of Afrihealth Optonet Association (AHOA), President of SOCSEEN, and Chairperson of Global Civil Society Consortium on Climate Change, he has built systems that generate, organise, and translate evidence into policy and practice. He is highly skilled in research synthesis, policy analysis, monitoring, evaluation, and results-based reporting. Dr. Adirieje has authored and edited numerous policy briefs, technical papers, advocacy tools, and training manuals used by governments, donors, businesses, and civil society. He contributed to Nigeria’s National M&E Policy and SDG frameworks, helping institutionalise data-driven decision-making, effective development communication, and mentoring emerging policy and research writers with strong ethical and analytical grounding.