Posted on: Mon 19-05-2025

In what could soon become a flashpoint for healthcare disruption in northeastern Nigeria, medical interns at the Federal Teaching Hospital Gombe (FTHG) have issued a bold ultimatum: Pay us what we are owed, or we walk.

This isn't just a workplace dispute—it’s a symptom of a deeper, disturbing disregard for the very frontline workers we entrust with our lives.

Come 12:00 a.m. on May 19, 2025, these young professionals—many already battling exhaustion, tight schedules, and the psychological weight of medical duty—intend to lay down their stethoscopes in protest of unexplained salary deductions and a backlog of unpaid wages. And honestly, can anyone blame them?

In a strongly worded statement, the interns expressed what many are too tired or fearful to say: They feel cheated, silenced, and abandoned.

“The salary deductions, which were not clearly communicated or justified... have caused financial hardship,” they said, adding that some interns haven’t received complete salaries in months.

Even more alarming is the lack of transparency. Since December 2024, interns have reported mismatches between their payment slips and the actual amounts received. And despite raising the alarm, the hospital management allegedly responded with vague explanations about tax deductions spanning multiple months—all subtracted at once, without prior notice or breakdowns.

This raises a troubling question: What kind of institution expects professionals to work full-time jobs under life-and-death pressure, without clear or consistent pay?

And make no mistake, these aren’t just “trainees.” Interns are doctors, pharmacists, lab scientists—integral to the daily functioning of any teaching hospital. When they are demoralized, overworked, and unpaid, it isn’t just their lives that suffer—it’s yours and mine. Patients will feel the impact. Emergency rooms will slow. Wards may become overwhelmed. Lives could be lost.

Yet the interns are not asking for privilege—they are demanding fairness: Timely pay. Transparent deductions. Clear communication. All basic expectations in any professional setting.

Their final appeal to the hospital’s management is not just a warning—it’s a plea for dignity:

“We urge management to take our demands seriously... We are committed to fighting for our rights and ensuring our working conditions are fair and just.”

This isn’t just a Gombe problem. It reflects a national crisis in how we treat healthcare workers, especially young ones. If we can’t protect and respect the newest members of our medical system, what does that say about our commitment to public health?

It’s time for hospital authorities—and indeed, the government—to respond not with threats or silence, but with accountability, reform, and empathy.

Because the people who fight to keep us alive shouldn’t have to fight this hard just to survive.

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