What is life worth in Nigeria?, by Eric Omazu

The shooting and subsequent death of Angela Igwetu, the corps member felled by a police officer on the eve of her passing out brought to the public consciousness the worthlessness of life in our country.
Miss Igwetu’s death in which two most prominent institutions in the service of our lives were implicated is a sad testimony on the true worth of human life in Nigeria.
Both the Police and the hospitals receive their relevance, whether in Nigeria or elsewhere, from the fact that they protect and save lives; thus when armed robbers, kidnappers, or even terrorists strike, the natural instinct in us propels us to call the police for protection.
And when successfully rescued by the police, we move to the hospital to ensure that the encounter with the people of the underworld has not in any negative way affected our lives.
When the police and the hospitals are directly responsible for the death of citizens, it alerts them that their protectors have turned to wolves.
In the case of Miss Igwetu, it was reported that the police team that shot her also took her to hospital for treatment.
According to the family, the hospital insisted that a police report must be brought before they could attend to the victim of police gunshot.
What other police report did they need when a police team accompanied the victim to the hospital? This question was even asked by the hospital.
They released a CCTV footage which showed health personnel making frantic efforts to attend to the victim.
I am sure the hospital would be shocked that instead of believing the concrete evidence they supplied, public opinion favoured the family of the dead corps member.
Everyone, it seems, agreed with them that Angela died because the hospital refused to treat her except she brought a police report.
If I were a member of the team managing health administration in this country (either in the Ministry of Health, or the teaching hospitals, or the Federal Medical Centres, or the specialist hospitals, the General Hospitals, down to private practitioners ) , I would be concerned with why the public easily believed the family rather than the hospital with all their evidences.
Since these managers seemed not bothered with this question, I shall help them adduce a reason.
And it is that most ordinary Nigerians have at one time or the other found themselves in the shoes of Miss Igwetu.
We all have encountered stone-cold medical personnel who seemed uninterested with the huge demands which their profession make of them.
Their chief concern seemed to revolve around answering doctors, nurses, and so on and swimming in the prestige and fat salaries that accompany such titles.
I have been a witness to the recklessness of the Nigerian medical personnel a number of times.
The first one was ten years ago in Onitsha where a woman was allowed to bleed away simply because the doctor on duty said none of his nurses would go to another hospital to source blood on a bike.
It was 11pm and there was no chance of getting a taxi in a city that sleeps earliest in Nigeria. The only available means of transportation apart from the doctor’s car was the motor-cycle of the gateman.
Seeing how the woman’s life hung on the balance the gateman had volunteered his motorcycle to take the nurse to Charles Borromeo Hospital, Onitsha, to get the blood.
The doctor forbade it.
It was an infradig for a nurse to ride on a bike.
The woman died in that hospital without receiving any help from the hospital.
The sum of 20, 000 naira was paid to the hospital for allowing the woman die in their premises.
As I write, a similar case is brewing.
A government hospital has stopped the treatment of a sick woman because she currently owes N400, 000.
When one of her children called me on Thursday evening from Kano informing me that their mother had not received treatment in the past six days because they could not pay the money and solicited my assistance so that the treatment could continue, I had a feeling of de javu.
And it is this feeling that raised the question that is the title of this write-up. What is life worth in Nigeria? In the three examples I have given, a Nigerian’s life is worth either the signature of a police officer, the comfort of a nurse, or the sum of N400, 000. In the last case, it is disheartening because the sick woman is a teacher. She has devoted her time to raise good and productive citizens for this country.
But when it is time to look after her, we are content to tell her that her life is worth a mere N400, 000.
In saner climes, even the life of a nobody is considered priceless.
What a country we have!