Lagos has initiated a probe, but you can bet the answer they will return would be some tame proclamations on what hospitals should do during emergencies. They are unlikely to indict their own failure to organise society to manage emergencies.
ABIMBOLA ADELAKUN FROM PUNCH
The Lagos State Government has initiated a probe into the tragic maternal death of Mrs Kemi Folajimi, the pregnant woman who supposedly died because a private healthcare facility denied her crucial emergency care when her husband could not deposit N500,000 for her treatment. We have been Nigerians for long enough to know how the probe will go: embarrassed government officials will make the right noises, but very little structural change will be achieved by the end of the day. Mrs Folajimi did not die because of money; she died because Lagos is a disorganised city with a lack of infrastructure for emergency services.
Many commenters, including some respected television anchors, think the issue was solely about money. They unrealistically drew up how much money a man should have saved before having children. In a state where 93 per cent of workers reportedly earn less than N200,000, they think a man should have N500,000 tucked aside before he can be a father. Let me break this to you: in a chaotic society where facilities for primary healthcare and emergency services are absent, anyone can die like a dog even while their pockets bulge with money. People have so quickly forgotten that just weeks ago, a tech entrepreneur, Adetunji Opayele, also died in Lagos following a road accident where the bystanders were the ones transporting him from one hospital to the other in a public vehicle.
What killed Mrs Folajimi is a systemic issue that would not have been resolved by individual responsibility. Read the husband’s interview, and you will understand that the poverty that killed her was that of policy—a direct consequence of what is called “multi-dimensional” poverty. For their community to rely on midwives, it must mean that grassroots healthcare facilities are lacking. Now, before some clown pops out to remind us that even Western societies still use the services of midwives, please know they are not only highly regulated but also get to summon prompt emergency services when things go wrong. In Mrs Folajimi’s case, there was no such provision. From the private hospital in Lakowe that reportedly rejected her to the public hospital in Epe, where they referred her, was a journey of 40 minutes. That was a lot of time for a woman who needed emergency care.
According to Mr Folajimi, when they encountered a traffic jam on the way, he had to appeal to the traffic officers to negotiate a path for their vehicle, given the woman’s dire situation. Look at how much crucial time was lost doing all that! Money or no money, anyone could have died under such circumstances. In an organised society, she would have been transferred to another hospital in a siren-blowing ambulance while being attended to by medical professionals. Yet, Nigeria is a place where the only people who get to use sirens to shove us off the road are narcissistic public officials who serve no useful purpose to society. The major reason Oyinbo invented those devices has long been subverted by these highly placed miscreants running empty errands.
Yes, Lagos has initiated a probe, but you can bet the answer they will return would be some tame proclamations on what hospitals should do during emergencies. They are unlikely to indict their own failure to organise society to manage emergencies.
Beyond the shortcomings of Lagos on this matter is also the reality of multidimensional poverty. Over the weekend, President Bola Tinubu’s Special Adviser on Economic Affairs, Tope Fasua, got on television to downplay the reality of its impact. He said something to the effect that we (our society, I presume) do not know the meaning of the term, and it is one big jargon to bedazzle us and sensationalise poverty. He said, “They think multi-dimensional poverty is worse than food poverty. What multi-dimensional means is that maybe the school your children attend is too far from you or the hospital, and they categorise you as multi-dimensional.” But what exactly was his point? Is that multi-dimensional poverty’s denial of ready access to life-enhancing facilities any more or less desirable than food poverty? Either way, the point made no sense. Mrs Folajimi’s case is an illustrative instance of the distance (literal and otherwise) between death and life, and she is by no means unique. Life in Nigeria gets abridged daily due to multidimensional poverty.