Lagos Took Her Life, Not Money: The Tragic Story of Mrs. Folajimi
The Lagos State Government has launched an investigation into the heartbreaking maternal demise of Mrs. Kemi Folajimi, a pregnant woman who reportedly passed away after a private medical center refused her essential emergency care since her spouse couldn’t pay the required N500,000. As citizens of Nigeria, we understand all too well where this inquiry might lead: although flustered officials may express appropriate concern, minimal substantial reforms will likely result from it. The unfortunate passing of Mrs. Folajimi was not due to financial constraints alone; rather, it highlights the inadequacies within Lagos’ systems and the absence of proper infrastructure for urgent assistance.
Numerous commentators, including several well-known TV personalities, believe the problem revolves entirely around finances. These individuals unrealisticly propose that men ought to save a specific amount of money prior to starting a family. Considering that 93 percent of employees apparently make less than N200,000 annually in this region, these same people argue that a man needs to accumulate at least N500,000 before becoming a parent. Allow me to clarify: within an erratic society lacking essential primary health care and emergency services, someone could perish miserably regardless of whether their wealth fills their pockets. It seems many swiftly overlook what happened only weeks back when Tech Entrepreneur Adetunji Opayele met his end due to a traffic collision in Lagos; despite efforts to transport him via various hospitals using makeshift means, help remained out of reach.
The death of Mrs. Folajimi stems from a systemic problem that wouldn’t be addressed through personal accountability alone. After reading the husband’s interview, one can see that the poverty responsible for her demise was rooted in policies—specifically, "multidimensional" poverty. The reliance on midwives within their community suggests inadequate grassroots healthcare infrastructure. Before anyone jumps in to point out that Western countries also employ midwives, keep in mind these professionals operate under strict regulations and have immediate access to emergency services when necessary. This wasn't available in Mrs. Folajimi’s situation. Her ordeal involved being turned away at a private facility in Lakowe and then directed to another public hospital in Epe, which required a 40-minute drive. Given she needed urgent medical attention, this delay could prove fatal.
Mr. Folajimi stated that upon hitting a traffic jam, he needed to request assistance from the traffic officers to clear a pathway for their vehicle due to the critical condition of the woman involved. It's disheartening to see how valuable time was wasted during this process! Regardless of wealth, anyone could have succumbed under such conditions. Ideally, in a well-organized community, the lady should have been swiftly transported via an ambulance with flashing lights and emergency personnel attending to her needs. However, Nigeria is a country where only self-important government officials misuse sirens to force others aside, despite contributing little value to societal welfare. The primary intent behind inventing these devices by foreigners has been hijacked by influential individuals engaged in meaningless tasks.
Indeed, Lagos has launched an investigation, yet you can be certain that the outcome will likely be mild recommendations for actions hospitals ought to take when facing crises. It’s improbable that this inquiry will address their lack of organization in managing such situations within society.
Lagos faces numerous challenges beyond those related to poverty alone; issues surrounding multidimensional deprivation persist. Recently, President Bola Tinubu’s advisor for economic affairs, Tope Fasua, attempted to diminish the severity of these effects during a televised appearance. According to him, our society supposedly does not grasp the concept and considers it just another complex term meant to dazzle and exaggerate the issue of poverty. He explained that "they" believe multidimensional poverty is somehow worse than simple food scarcity, stating instead that it could mean schools or hospitals are located too far away from individuals, thus classifying them under such terms. However, his statement lacked clarity regarding why he felt this definition was irrelevant or misleading. Whether compared directly with food-based impoverishment or viewed independently, his explanation did little justice to understanding the gravity of multidimensional poverty. The story of Mrs. Folajimi serves as a stark example highlighting how close proximity can be both literal and metaphorical when discussing survival versus living conditions. Her situation reflects broader societal struggles where everyday existence in Nigeria becomes increasingly truncated because of widespread multidimensional deprivations.
In the mentioned interview, Fasua highlighted various points that align with my concerns regarding the ethical framework of the Tinubu administration. They seem devoid of plans aimed at fostering abundance and well-being; instead, their lack thereof leads them to glorify poverty. Previously, I believed that promoting poverty was characteristic of the Muhammadu Buhari government, considering how he often claims to be impoverished and views destitution—especially in others—as commendable rather than deplorable. However, comparing this stance with statements from Tinubu—who shared a tale about his "friend" becoming wealthy—and associates who argue that Nigerians can manage on just ₦1,500 per day, it becomes clear that the APC’s approach towards commoners is unmistakably one-dimensional and misguided.
Fasua claims that $10 isn't enough for a meal in the U.S., whereas Nigerians could manage with just $1. However, this overlooks the reality in some lower-income areas within America, where both breakfast and lunch can be had for around $10. The surprising detail often overlooked by economists such as Fasua relates to how much effort it takes to afford a midday meal in each country. In the United States, where hourly wages range between $7.50 and $15, earning sufficient funds for a meal typically requires working only an hour—or perhaps slightly less. Conversely, in Nigeria, with a daily minimum wage set at N2560, achieving the same would necessitate nearly half a day’s labor based on Fasua’s figure of N1500. Thus, sustaining two meals a day solely through minimal pay becomes unfeasible under these conditions.
For ₦1,500 per meal each day, one cannot indulge in anything, regardless of how minor it might seem. Suppose we consider this Nigerian individual who has been tasked with surviving under such conditions without having either close relatives or distant ones relying on them financially. We must then disregard their ability to cover essential needs like housing, clothes, medical expenses, let alone save some funds! According to the current administration, an average Nigerian citizen ought to labor hard, consume simple food, and eventually pass away.
If they accurately chart the landscape of poverty to grasp its multifaceted effects, they must address concerns that extend beyond nutrition. Poverty isn’t merely about having enough food; even someone earning minimum wage might struggle with limited resources. It’s also tied to the availability of a robust support system and access to essential services that improve quality of life. Instead of distorting facts to downplay "multidimensional" poverty—a term some economists may overuse to highlight bureaucratic shortcomings—they ought to recognize how this issue truly affects people. The kind of poverty that led to Mrs.’s demise goes far beyond financial constraints.
The current administration exhibits significant inconsistencies in defining poverty. To illustrate, their new student loan program targets impoverished Nigerians with an annual household income threshold set at ₦500,000 (₦42,000 monthly). However, they consider someone living below the poverty line as one who spends only ₦1,500 daily on meals (₦45,000 monthly). Given these figures, shouldn’t a family of four require a minimum monthly income of ₦180,000 based on those spending habits?
Worse still, in this very society, the individuals with direct access to policymakers insist that an income of merely N1,500 per day suffices for basic sustenance. Yet they simultaneously demand that a man must save N500,000 as a deposit for his expecting spouse's medical care at the hospital. Many Nigerians struggle to make such earnings annually; fewer manage to set aside so substantial a sum. This situation is egregiously convoluted, and it seems heartless how critics of folks like Mrs. Folajimi often disregard the systemic problems responsible for her tragic demise.
Provided by Syndigate Media Inc. ( Syndigate.info ).