By ‘Lande Omo Oba
As my son was being wheeled away into the theatre, a very warm and friendly-looking nurse ushered me into the waiting room. Over the next crucial 60 minutes, it was in this waiting room that I would find solace, offer prayers, and hope for the best.
In a very narrow reading, as with both my son and I, Nigerians have been in the waiting room for too long. Our surgeons have paid little or no attention to us. They have not come out to engage us; nor tell us why we have had to wait for so long. Each time a new surgeon comes on board, he makes it a point of duty to send others to tell us the many mistakes the previous surgeon made and how he has got to spend a lot of time fixing the errors. It really is frustrating to wait endlessly in a waiting room, hoping for good news.
My earliest remembrance of Nigerian leadership was during the Shagari administration. I recall the many newspaper headlines around corruption, bribery, etc. There were quite a number of scandals, and a part of me thought that this was because Nigerians were fairly decent people who abhorred stealing and corruption at the time. Fast forward to 1984, I remember the martial music being played on television and my father calling out to my mother to say there had been a coup. Then came the speech and the curfew. I have witnessed many other changes in leadership since. A recurring theme, or justification, has always been the need for Nigerians to do better. Every single administration, upon ascension to office, makes it a point of duty to tell us that previous administrations were wasteful, corrupt, and inept. But yet, many years after independence, we are still here.
A week prior to the d-day, I had met with the surgeon, who explained the procedure in great detail to me. In fact, he went to the extent of showing me where he would make the incisions on my son’s abdomen. He gave me a lot of material to read. He explained the procedure and talked to me about post-surgery outcomes.
Once the surgery date was agreed, a very warm sounding pre-assessment nurse called for more information. On the morning of the surgery, the procedure was explained again to my son and I. Interestingly, he was given the option of choosing his preferred method of anesthetics, for his age. It was impressive. The anesthetist made out as if taking anesthetics was fun! Clearly we were dealing with highly trained professionals.
Of all the activities around the surgery of my son, waiting for 60 minutes whilst my child was being cut-up was the scariest experience for me. It must be the reason why the medical team go to great lengths to reassure family members!
Whilst in the waiting room, I was not sure what to do with myself. At one point I thought to weep and have a tear-party. I prayed and prayed. Looking out the window, I could almost count the rain drops. I remember trying to make myself a drink and having to choose between fizzy drinks, hot beverages, and water. I went with water!
Exactly 55 minutes later, the surgeon came out. All went well! Typical Nigerian mother, I was screaming “Praise God, Hallelujah!” I was really dramatic and oblivious of my environment. In a short while, I saw my child.
In a very narrow reading, as with both my son and I, Nigerians have been in the waiting room for too long. Our surgeons have paid little or no attention to us. They have not come out to engage us; nor tell us why we have had to wait for so long. Each time a new surgeon comes on board, he makes it a point of duty to send others to tell us the many mistakes the previous surgeon made and how he has got to spend a lot of time fixing the errors. It really is frustrating to wait endlessly in a waiting room, hoping for good news.
My earliest remembrance of Nigerian leadership was during the Shagari administration. I recall the many newspaper headlines around corruption, bribery, etc. There were quite a number of scandals, and a part of me thought that this was because Nigerians were fairly decent people who abhorred stealing and corruption at the time. Fast forward to 1984, I remember the martial music being played on television and my father calling out to my mother to say there had been a coup. Then came the speech and the curfew. I have witnessed many other changes in leadership since. A recurring theme, or justification, has always been the need for Nigerians to do better. Every single administration, upon ascension to office, makes it a point of duty to tell us that previous administrations were wasteful, corrupt, and inept. But yet, many years after independence, we are still here.
This is despite the fact that we are supposed to be Africa’s giant.
Following recent happenings in America, I could not but ask myself what it would take to be as great a country as the U.S.A. I used to hold the very strong opinion that strong institutions make a country stable. I still hold this belief. But with a slight caveat: I think I would put strong men and women as the key, first, to laying the foundations for effective and efficient institutions; and second, as essential if those systems are not to be laid low eventually by dishonest wayfarers.
In the last four years in the U.S., it took a few strong men and women to stand up to what seemed to be turning into an autocratic rule by one man. From the onset, a few men, and women, made it their business to speak against some of the undemocratic tendencies of the one who was supposed to be the first amongst equals. I was impressed. Watching how the many institutions of the U.S.A rallied round to protect their democracy, I could not but be envious. What would it really take to be this great as a nation?
Well, it would take a lot. Especially in a country where citizens are being asked to register their phone numbers or have same withdrawn at a time when the world is fighting a medical scourge, one that requires us to stay indoors unless necessary, one that requires that we observe social distance, one that requires that we, as much as is possible, move transactions online. Across the world, we have seen that mobile phones have become the single most important possession of the human being. Yet, we are being told that this could be withdrawn from us and thus we are encouraged to go out and mingle in defence of this access.
Still, no one can say that we do not have great surgeons. We do. We just need to find them and make sure they are supported by a highly trained team of medical professionals. Only then will we shorten our stay in the waiting room.
Omo Oba is a Nigerian lawyer.