In this special report, ABDULRAHMAN ZAKARIYAU exposes the chaos within Abuja’s overwhelmed hospitals, where time, resources, and hope are dangerously scarce
In these hospitals, tragedies and struggles unfold despite the fact that health is a basic human right. Article 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights affirms that everyone deserves a standard of living adequate for their well-being—this includes access to medical care. But in Abuja, that promise is broken time and again. The healthcare system, designed to be accessible, affordable, and inclusive, now barely functions for those who need it most.
As observed, the city’s public hospitals are plagued by overcrowding, severe underfunding, and inadequate facilities. The very doctors meant to save lives are overwhelmed, and their mental health is deteriorating as they navigate impossible conditions. As a result, most of them are travelling out of the country, Japa.
In the last five years, Nigeria has lost about 16,000 doctors to other countries, according to the Ministry of Health and Social Welfare. A report from the UK’s Nursing and Midwifery Council shows that over 14,815 Nigerian-trained nurses and midwives were granted licenses to work in the UK between 2017 and September 2024. By March 2024, 13,656 Nigerian nurses were employed in the UK, making Nigeria the third-largest supplier of nursing professionals to Britain. This growing trend is concerning, not just for the medical field but for everyday Nigerians who depend on these professionals for care.
Health Minister Professor Muhammad Pate recently revealed that out of 300,000 health workers in the country, only 90,000 are registered doctors, and just 55,000 are still practising in Nigeria. Over 75% of Nigerian-trained doctors have left, seeking better working conditions, modern equipment, and a healthcare system that supports them, things they can’t find at home. This mass departure is putting immense pressure on Nigeria’s healthcare system, leading to understaffed hospitals and a decline in the quality of care.
In Abuja, the situation is even more dire. Despite being the nation’s capital, public hospitals are overwhelmed by staff shortages and limited resources. For many residents, particularly those in low- and middle-income brackets, the healthcare system is no longer just inadequate, it has become a life-or-death situation. Public hospitals once places of hope and healing, have become sites of fear and frustration. Those who can afford it flee to private care, while the less privileged are left to suffer in silence.
Nearly five decades after Abuja became Nigeria’s capital, its public hospitals no longer inspire confidence; they incite dread. For the poor, they are no longer healthcare centres but feared “death zones.” The wealthy and middle class turn to private clinics, deepening the divide in access to care.
Once reputed for excellence, hospitals such as the National Hospital, University of Abuja Teaching Hospital, and the Federal Medical Centre, Jabi now struggle to cope with Abuja’s ballooning population. District hospitals across areas like Bwari, Kuje, Asokoro, Nyanya, Kubwa, Maitama, and Life Camp—once proud pillars of care—are now buckling under pressure.
For many patients, navigating these hospitals means enduring long waits, limited resources, and unbearable conditions, clinging to hope in a system that seems to have long abandoned them. These hospitals are plagued by chaotic record-keeping, careless medical attention, frequent misdiagnoses, and wrong prescriptions. Power outages are constant, doctors and nurses are far too few, medical staff are poorly paid, and essential equipment is often missing or broken.
As Abuja’s population grows every single day—with people pouring in from every corner of the country in search of a better life—these deep-rooted problems are ignored. The result is heartbreaking: public healthcare in the capital is in shambles, where patients suffer in silence, and even doctors are worn down, battling to survive in a system that’s failing them all.
Olamide’s struggle for survival
The harrowing experience of two-year-old Olamide Olawale paints a painful picture of the broken state of Abuja’s healthcare system. One night, burning with a very high fever from severe malaria, Olamide was rushed to Asokoro District Hospital around 10:00 p.m. But instead of receiving urgent care, his parents were told there were no available beds. Desperate to save their son, they rushed to Maitama District Hospital by 10:45 p.m., and then to Gwarinpa District Hospital at 11:15 p.m.—each one turning them away with the same haunting words: “No bed space.”
As the child’s condition worsened and the clock kept ticking, fear consumed the family. At 12:20 a.m., they finally arrived at Sisters of Nativity Hospital in Jikowyi, a private facility. There, a doctor issued a chilling verdict: “If you had arrived five minutes later, this child would not be alive.” While Olamide survived, many others are not as fortunate. Every day in Abuja, countless patients—often the most vulnerable—face the same desperate race for survival, while doctors battle exhaustion, stress, and a system on the brink of collapse.
Unfortunately, Olamide’s situation is not an isolated case; another family experienced a similar, if not more severe, ordeal while trying to obtain a medical card in Abuja.
Underfunded Kuje General Hospital
A recent drive to Kuje Satellite Town revealed a heartbreaking sight at Kuje General Hospital, tucked away at No. 1 Fahoud Street. From a distance, the building appears modest, even fragile—freshly painted but barely holding itself together. A large sign boldly proclaims Kuje General Hospital, but the reality behind those walls tells a far less reassuring story.
Stepping into the hospital, you’re immediately struck by the chaos and neglect. The reception area is cluttered with broken chairs, and a pungent smell fills the air—one that could worsen the condition of any sick patient, or make a healthy person feel ill. Just from the waiting area, it’s obvious this is an aging facility with almost no modern equipment or amenities.
Outside, there’s a small open space with concrete benches set among withering flowers—perhaps designed for rest, but today used more often as a space for waiting and worrying.
While surveying the hospital grounds, I met Amina Usman, a woman visibly pregnant, likely in her seventh month. Her eyes carried both fatigue and resignation. She shared her experience with a mix of frustration and quiet strength.
“This hospital is close to home, and it’s all we can afford,” she began. “Private hospitals are out of our reach, so despite everything, we keep coming here. Sometimes, the waiting is so long that your health gets worse just from sitting around in pain. I’ve learned to set aside my entire day whenever I visit.”
Amina spoke of rushed consultations with overwhelmed doctors, and the fear that comes from walking away uncertain about the care received. “There are days I leave here unsure of my diagnosis, worried that something was missed,” she said quietly.
She then recounted a tragedy from her neighbourhood—an eight-year-old boy who was misdiagnosed and treated incorrectly for three months. “By the time they figured out what was really wrong, it was too late. He died just two days later. Maybe if he’d gotten the right care in time, he would still be alive.”
Her voice cracked as she added, “It’s not always the doctors’ fault. Sometimes they just can’t help. There aren’t enough beds, not enough hands, not enough tools. Many patients are turned away, not because they don’t deserve care, but because the hospital simply can’t handle it.”
Inside, I spoke to a nurse Samson John, who confirmed the grim reality. “You see there’s no electricity,” he said, gesturing around. “That’s just the beginning. This place was meant to be a basic primary healthcare center, but we’re running it like a full hospital—without the resources, without the staff.”
With a tired expression, he added, “We’re doing our best, but the truth is, we can’t keep up. Patients suffer. We turn people away because we have no beds, no equipment. We need help.”
Bwari General Hospital
The situation at Bwari General Hospital mirrors the challenges seen in other government healthcare facilities. Though strategically located beside the Bwari Emir’s Palace and near both the local market and the Abuja-Kaduna road, the hospital tells a story of contrast—one of outer beauty masking deep internal decay.
At first glance, the hospital’s off-white and dark brown painted buildings seem well-kept, almost reassuring. But a deeper look—especially after speaking with patients and staff—reveals a troubling reality.
Mohammed, a visibly sorrowful patient, shared his heartbreaking experience. He lost his wife and unborn child at the hospital, a tragedy he believes was caused by negligence.
“I brought my pregnant wife here a few months ago,” he recalled, his voice heavy with emotion. “She was nearly due, but about three weeks before her delivery date, she started having stomach pains. We rushed her here, hoping for quick help. Instead, we were made to wait for a bed to become available. She sat in pain and fear for over an hour.”
“After about two hours, we were finally taken into the ward. A nurse checked her vitals and gave her an injection—maybe for the pain. We waited for the doctor, but he never came in time. I sat there and watched my wife die… after hours of waiting.”
Despite the trauma, Mohammed has come to terms with the loss as an act of divine will. But he also stressed the urgent need for the government to improve the hospital’s capacity. “We need more doctors, better facilities. No one should die just because there weren’t enough hands to help.”
A medical doctor at the hospital, who spoke anonymously, confirmed that all is far from well. “This place was originally a primary healthcare centre. It was rebranded as a General Hospital in name only. We don’t have the beds, the equipment, or the manpower to live up to that title,” he said.
He explained that the staff often experience burnout from the overwhelming number of patients. “No trained doctor or nurse would ever intentionally neglect a patient. But when you have too few people trying to serve too many, things fall apart. Patients wait too long, and in emergencies, that delay can be fatal.”
The doctor also mentioned that patients are sometimes turned away due to lack of beds or specialists. “We simply can’t handle the demand,” he admitted.
He called on the government to take urgent action: “The Accident and Emergency building has been abandoned for years—it must be completed. The hospital needs a major upgrade, modern equipment, and more medical personnel. Only then can we truly serve the people of Bwari and surrounding communities.”
Kubwa General Hospital
At first glance, Kubwa General Hospital appears orderly and calm, but beneath the surface, it too is grappling with serious challenges. Investigations show that the hospital is in urgent need of government intervention and substantial investment.
Mary Emmanuel, a concerned resident who frequent the hospital, emphasised that the hospital requires support in every aspect—from infrastructure to staffing and medical equipment.
She said, “Kubwa General Hospital needs a complete overhaul,” she said. “It’s not just about keeping the place clean—it needs more bed space, more departments, and definitely more doctors to meet rising demands.”
According to her, Kubwa is a densely populated area and that the current state of the hospital is inadequate for such a large and fast-growing community.
“This facility is far too small to meet the healthcare demands of a city like Abuja,” she added. “The Federal Capital Territory Administration needs to prioritise this hospital—renovate it, upgrade the facilities, expand the infrastructure, and recruit more medical personnel, including specialists, she added.
Mary also called for broader support beyond the government. “Improving this hospital is critical for the health and safety of residents in Kubwa and surrounding areas. While the government has a major role to play, private individuals, corporate organisations, and faith-based groups should also step in. It’s a shared responsibility—we all need to contribute to building a healthcare system that truly works for everyone, regardless of status or income level.”
Maitama, Asokoro Hospitals
Similar to Maitama District Hospital, Asokoro District Hospital is also a well-designed facility, offering a clean and spacious environment with large buildings that primarily house offices rather than patient wards. Despite its size, these government-owned hospitals in central Abuja face numerous challenges.
Although located in an affluent area, both Maitama and Asokoro District Hospitals are primarily used by the middle and lower classes, many of whom are referred from satellite towns such as Kubwa, Kuje, Nyanya, and Bwari. Patients who cannot receive the necessary medical care in their local hospitals, due to factors like limited staff, outdated equipment, and other issues, are often directed to these hospitals. However, upon arrival, their hopes are often dashed when they realise these hospitals face the same problems.
One such example is the case of Chidinma Godswill, a mother of a 6-year-old girl. Her daughter had been referred to Maitama District Hospital for an ENT (Ear, Nose, and Throat) examination and treatment, but despite visiting the hospital regularly for three years, her child’s condition was not adequately addressed. Chidinma explained that when her child’s hearing worsened to the point where she could barely hear anything, she had to borrow money to seek treatment at a private facility in Life Camp.
Chidinma recounted her experience at Maitama District Hospital: “From registration to payment, it took hours before we were even booked to see a specialist, and the appointment was set for three months later. We were referred in 2023. When the appointment day finally arrived, we waited almost four hours in line before seeing the doctor. After spending barely four minutes with us, he confirmed that my child needed surgery to prevent the bacteria from damaging her hearing further.”
The surgery was scheduled for six months later, but when the day arrived, they were told that the ENT surgeon was unavailable. After voicing her frustration, Chidinma was informed by the staff that there were several other batches ahead of hers that hadn’t been treated yet. Her daughter’s surgery was postponed again, and after nearly three years of repeated appointments with the same excuse — the surgeon was always unavailable — Chidinma noticed her child’s hearing was deteriorating rapidly.
It was then that a nurse at the hospital suggested she find the money to take her child to a private facility for the surgery, saying it was her best option. “My experience with Maitama District Hospital has been terrible,” Chidinma said. “But after hearing and reading stories from others who lost their loved ones due to long waiting times, missed appointments, lack of equipment, and a shortage of doctors, I thank God I was able to seek medical help elsewhere.”
A man who identified himself only as Oye shared how his wife nearly died due to a misdiagnosis at Asokoro District Hospital, where she was prescribed the wrong medication for months. He explained that another doctor later re-evaluated her condition and put her on the proper treatment.
Oye recounted, “My wife was sick, and since we live in Karu, we decided to go to Asokoro District Hospital hoping to receive the best care, but my experience was terrifying. After going through various points for payment and registration, we finally saw a doctor who diagnosed my wife and prescribed some medication.
“He had her on those medications for three months. However, when we returned for a follow-up two months later, another doctor, after conducting medical exams, discovered that my wife had been misdiagnosed and that the medication she was on was completely inappropriate for her condition.
“The doctor then said, ‘Thank God you came back. This medication could have made things worse for her.’ He advised us and put my wife on new medication. Since then, I’ve been afraid to go to any government-owned hospitals in Abuja.”
Nyanya General Hospital Faces Familiar Situation
Just like many other hospitals, Nyanya General Hospital is struggling too. With too few beds, not enough medical staff, and outdated or limited equipment, the hospital is under serious pressure. And unfortunately, it’s the patients who feel the impact the most, as these challenges make it harder to deliver the care they need.
A patient who simply identified himself as Ibrahim said the hospital need urgent attentions.
He said, “This hospital is becoming too small to handle the growing number of patients it receives every day. Although the government has made some improvements, it’s simply not enough.
“The number of people relying on this facility keeps increasing—likely because of its closeness to Nasarawa State.
“That’s why the FCT administration urgently needs to step in: expand the hospital, add more beds, hire more medical staff, and provide modern equipment. There also needs to be proper oversight of daily operations.
“If these issues aren’t addressed, the hospital will keep struggling—and that puts the health and lives of many Nigerians at serious risk.”
NMA blames Govt for patients, health workers’ ordeal in Abuja Hospitals
When reached for comment, the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA), Federal Capital Territory (FCT) Abuja Chapter, acknowledged the poor condition of government hospitals in the capital.
Chairman of the NMA Abuja Chapter, Dr. Ayogu Emeka pointed the finger at the government for the ongoing struggles faced by both patients and healthcare workers.
He highlighted key issues such as inadequate pay for health workers, insufficient funding, a lack of essential equipment, and poor management as major factors contributing to the challenges plaguing the city’s healthcare sector.
Dr Emeka stated, “What is happening in the country is nothing new. We are losing a lot of doctors to other countries in search of a better future. The challenges they face are multifaceted, and survival has become increasingly difficult.
“One key factor is poor remuneration. Doctors’ pay is insufficient to sustain their lives, leaving many in the lower social class despite their critical roles. When we first began, we were part of the middle class, but now, due to the high cost of living and low salaries, we are no longer in a good position. Many doctors have been overworked and owed back pay, sometimes waiting up to two years to receive their dues. These conditions, combined with a challenging work environment, have led many to consider leaving the country.
“The overwork, burnout, and lack of essential resources make working conditions unbearable. Critical diagnostic tools, such as MRI machines, are often unavailable in government hospitals. Many patients who can afford it have to travel abroad for care. The government’s failure to employ more doctors and improve hospital infrastructure worsens the situation.
“Doctors and other medical experts are stretched thin, working long hours without proper tools or support, leading to burnout. The lack of investment in healthcare infrastructure and human capital makes it nearly impossible to fill gaps in the system, putting lives at risk.
“Insecurity is another major factor affecting the healthcare sector. Healthcare workers, particularly in rural areas, fear abduction or violence, making it harder to recruit and retain staff. This issue not only affects the healthcare system but also the overall safety of the country. Doctors who remain often do so out of patriotism, despite being underpaid, overworked, and frustrated by the lack of support. However, if conditions don’t improve, more doctors will leave.”
The FCT NMA Chairman criticised the current administration for prioritising road infrastructure over healthcare, urging for greater focus on the health sector.
He stressed that health is vital for the nation’s well-being, urging the government to invest more in healthcare for long-term progress.
Dr Emeka continued, “In Abuja, the population is growing rapidly, but the number of doctors and hospital facilities has not kept pace. This has led to overcrowded hospitals, overwhelming the few available doctors. The high cost of living makes healthcare unaffordable for many, and even when people can access a hospital, they are often unable to pay for tests or treatment.
“This exacerbates overcrowding and strains limited resources. Despite the government’s focus on infrastructure, healthcare remains underfunded, leaving the vulnerable population to rely on overcrowded public hospitals.
“The current administration is prioritising road infrastructure over healthcare. Significant resources are being spent on roads infrastructure, but healthcare has not received the same attention. There is needs to be a shift in focus. The FCT administration must invest more in human capital, especially healthcare professionals. While road infrastructure is important, the health of the people should be the priority. Without a healthy population, no other development can thrive. The government must recognise that investing in healthcare is an investment in the country’s future.
“If things don’t change, more doctors will leave, and those who stay may not be able to provide the quality care Abuja’s residents deserve. If the current system continues, the healthcare sector will face an even more serious crisis, and the government must take responsibility before it’s too late.”
We’re aware, committed to resolving persistent challenges – FCT Authority
Attempts to obtain a response from the FCT Mandate Secretary for Health, Adedolapo Fasawe, were unsuccessful, as all efforts proved futile.
However, a head of one of the agencies in charge of the hospital, who requested anonymity due to being a civil servant not authorised to speak to the media, disclosed that the FCT authority is aware of the deteriorating state of public hospitals.
He said, “We are aware that we have challenges regarding bed space, human resources, and more. The population has increased astronomically over the last five years.
“Many of these hospitals were originally designed as small facilities meant to serve people within specific areas. However, we are working to attract more funding to build new hospitals, expand bed capacity of the existing once, purchase equipment, and improve the welfare of medical workers so that residents can receive the best care at an affordable rate.”
Abdulrahman Zakariyau
Abdulrahman has nearly ten years of experience reporting on political parties, elections, religion, civil society organizations, the Nigeria Governors Forum, and more
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