Posted on: Fri 02-05-2025

There’s a moment in every failing system when those within it can no longer wait for top-down solutions. That moment has arrived in Nigeria’s public health sector. Faced with the painfully persistent neglect of primary healthcare by government, communities, and even private stakeholders, the Association of Public Health Physicians of Nigeria (APHPN) has decided to take matters into its own hands.

In what can only be described as both a desperate and defiant move, the APHPN is adopting 222 Primary Healthcare Centres (PHCs)—six in each state of the federation. This isn’t a government directive. It isn’t a funded federal project. It’s a grassroots-driven intervention by professionals who are tired of empty promises.

At a press briefing that marked his official assumption of office, APHPN President Dr. Terfa Kene didn’t sugarcoat the truth. “We have advocated, lamented, and criticized, but little has changed,” he said. And he’s right. For years, Nigeria’s PHCs—meant to be the foundation of public health—have languished in decay. Crumbling infrastructure, missing staff, nonexistent drugs, and forgotten patients: that’s the grim reality in many of these centers.

So when Dr. Kene announced the association’s plan to invest time, energy, and resources into revitalising these 222 centres, he wasn’t just launching a project. He was throwing down a moral gauntlet: If we can’t rely on institutions, then it’s time for professionals to become the institution.

The APHPN isn’t banking on budgetary allocations either. They’re turning to crowdfunding, philanthropy, and global grants—a testament to both the creativity and desperation driving this mission. It’s a powerful indictment of just how far the primary healthcare system has been abandoned by those meant to uphold it.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. Dr. Kene’s vision is bold and rooted in impact. He’s looking beyond quick fixes and toward structural solutions. From launching a Virtual School of Public Health with operational hubs in Delta and the FCT, to partnering with diaspora experts to counter brain drain through knowledge sharing, this is a leadership agenda built on innovation, resilience, and realism.

It also speaks volumes that while others debate policy in boardrooms, the APHPN is getting its hands dirty—on the ground, in the wards, at the community level. This is what real leadership looks like in the face of systemic failure.

And yet, the larger question looms: Why are public health professionals being forced to play the role of government? Why should the custodians of health education and disease prevention also become infrastructure renovators and fundraisers? The answer is as uncomfortable as it is clear: because no one else will.

Dr. Kene ended his address with a call for media collaboration—and rightly so. The media must be more than observers; it must become a partner in holding power accountable and spotlighting local solutions. Nigeria’s public health system can’t afford silence. It needs allies, amplifiers, and accountability watchdogs.

At a time when talk is cheap and health is still out of reach for millions, the APHPN’s action is a loud, uncomfortable truth: if we want to save Nigeria’s healthcare system, we can’t keep waiting. We have to start saving it ourselves.

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