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As to whether a nation may save itself from a catastrophe may depend on the nature of that incident; the scale of the devastation; the tenacity of the people;and the speed of the devastation; and how quickly the leadership reacts to counter the unfortunate event. Above all, the resources available at that time; and at the right place. Nations with enlightened leadership prepare themselves 50 years in advance while those that make darkness their abode, save divine intervention, always find themselves spending as much energy and resources as they were wont in 50 years of fruitless labour. The rational for this two totally different approaches may be closely linked to the judgment of its leadership over a long period; and the consquent resultant thinking that permeates that society.
A society built on compassion and human values; moral obligation and the greater good almost certainly always ends up doing what is right to save the nation. On the other hand, a nation that may begin with the former values as their foundation may decide to deviate along the way on the road to nation building. In this scenario, compassion and human values may take a twisted turn for the worse. That this occurs does not mean that Amargedon has arrived but that the trumpet sound of warning is always heard from East to West; and from North to South. Granted, the recent arguments, especially in Obama's American tenue, as to whether a nation is entitled to free health care or not can only be viewed from the practical successes and failures of the different nations involved; and specific experiences of the different peoples. In that manner, therefore, one may be in pole position to make sound judgments as to the importance of Universal Health Care in a modern nation in the 21st century. A a nation populated by the ill can never prosper.
The year is 2005; and the entire world is transfixed onto their television screen to fully examine the unfortunate cataclysm of Hurricane Katrina that devastated the east Coast of the United States almost four years after the horrific terrorist attack of the United States East Coast of New York killing about 3000 innocent people. In Europe, a significant majority were questioning how a nation, so powerful and rich, were to allow herself to be viewed with such a faded lamp in humanity as regards the Hurricaine Katrina. We all watched as the poor and needy were in such squalor in a land of plenty. More strikingly, it would appear that the long suffering people of Louisiana had not had proper medical care -- judging from their physical appearance. Is it right for the richest nation on earth or even one of the man-made poorest like Cameroon to allow their own citizens to languish in poor health while the privileged moneyed class enjoy stratospheric health care? This writer takes a close examination of the practicalities and consequences of a system that prefers to spend on guns and missiles rather than invest on the health of the same people who should defend the nation with the same guns.
I had just arrived Buea at dusk, the Capital of today South West Region of Cameroon and the former Capital of Southern Cameroons and the colonial German Kamerun. The atmosphere was heavy with fog from Bokoango down to Great Soppo; but the bustling Molyko and Muea dual-town were spared the heavy mist the nexte day. The Chariot of the Gods, Mount Cameroon, stood majestically on the background like a heavy mass of dark blue rock that appears to stretch to the skies from its deep foundations; at the same time extends from East to West like an ancient pyramid.
The following few days were of excellent weather with clear blue sky and beautiful weather; the modifying mountain climate providing a perfect moderating effect on the tropical African heat prevalent in Tiko and Douala. Terrific, I thought. This is like living in Wales, London or Switzerland! I am going to enjoy myself during this period in homeland Africa! I will go out, visit old friends, travel around the villages, and socialise with my relatives. Not until my Grandmother fell ill. We are in Wales, are we not? Surely, there is no problem. There is the NHS, I mused dreamily. And it is free! But this was a short term thinking of a complete stranger in his own land. It was not long before I was reminded of the realities of my own country; and that I may have been thinking of the non-existing utopia of Sangria Land.
Let’s take her to the hospital, I proposed with detached confidence. No, they said, we must take her but to a private clinic. Why? I demanded. Surely, a hospital is much more equipped since there are better facilities and many specialist doctors? No answer. So, I went with the idea of taking her to the clinic. What is the name of this clinic and where exactly is it located, I asked. The medical facility is called Solidarity. Thank Goodness, I exclaimed. If it is named Solidarity then we will be saved! Grand ma will be well and back home immediately; and then the enjoyment will continue until I return to England. Is it a good place with a reputation? Of course, yes was the reply. Where is it? It is just off the University Junction up the road; about ten minutes drive from home after the Mile 17 roundabout. Great! Surely this is a good place; since it is near the University. I was aware that University of Buea had begun a medical school about two years ago amidst raging controversy; arguments between the Anglophones students and the Francophone elite lodged in Yaounde in an alleged fraud as to the admission of students. In the event, students were gunned downby the Cameroon authorities. However, I thought there would be trained doctors who may be working in the clinic in Solidarity with the denizens of Buea. Was my assumption guided by sound judgment or was it convoluted by my earlier delusion of being in Wales? Let’s see.
We made a swift curve north from home, turned into the Mile 17 junction to Molyko, drove passed the University and arrived the University Junction. Turned left, passed a series of landmark two or three storey buildings (most buildings in Buea are not more than three storeys due to the active Volcano, Mount Cameroon, that can roar and erupt without warning causing the entire town to sway from left to right, up and down like a rocking ship caught in a huge tidal wave) and arrived the said clinic. We have arrived, my relative said. Although the building was small, it was well kept and neatly painted with a car park at the front and a gate that secluded the clinic from the local environs. Is this Solidarity? I asked , so as to obtain cast-iron validation and verification. Yes, was the answer. So we went in with my Grandmother. A nurse met us at the entrance or was it the reception? I explained the problem and she were admitted. Now comes the moment of truth as to whether I was still dreaming in Wales or I was living the hard reality of Cameroon.
Can I see the doctor? I inquired of the nurse. Well, he will arrive shortly. I waited and waited but there was no doctor forth-coming. I looked at the nurse and she looked at me. Every person was looking at any other person. What is going on? Anyway I decided to take a short walk within the clinic believing that by the time I returned, treatment should have started. When I returned, I noticed a young man whom I assume was the doctor. I said my Hellos and Good mornings which he returned very politely. Yet nothing was happening; remotely resembling treatment. I looked at them; they also looked at me in a kind of strange silence: again. Is this a new kind of medical consultation or what? Well, I have never been to medical school. Who knows, perhaps there is new kind of telepathic medicine in Cameroon? Or is it some sort of African medicine? Chinese medicine, perhaps? I understand the Chinese have a strong presence in Cameroon; and that they built a modern hospital in genuine Solidarity with the Cameroon people in general and the Buea population in particular. Is Solidarity a Chinese invention-cum-invasion? I looked around but no Chinese person was in sight. I was perplexed by all this. I therefore made a decision, again, to take a walk; but this time in the surrounding locality, hoping that on my re-return , full treatment must have begun, and to fully verify that this was, in actual fact, the famed Solidarity clinic. There we go again.
I went round the corner, crossed a small bridge that spans a small stream and Helas! I was standing in front of a huge – painted yellow, I presume, as one is colour blind -- three storey building that dominated the landscape just off the University Junction. Is this Solidarity? I questioned myself. I decided to investigate. As it appears there were businesses operating on the ground floor of the building, I went to one of the shops, exchanged pleasantries with the supposed owner and began my somewhat inquisition. What is this building for, especially the first and second floors, I enquired. This is a mini-cite (Students’ Hostel). We are merely renting the ground floor for our businesses, was the gentleman’s succinct reply. I see. Who owns this building? The gentleman looked at me with pronounced astonishment; his eyes diving up and down at my demeanour. Are you from Mbengue? The new interrogator asked. Well, yes, I stammered. Where? Europe? America? Europe, I answered. Where, exactly, in Europe, he questioned; and when was the last time you visited Buea – I mean Cameroon? Well, this is my second visit in three months from London. And you do not know who owns this building? No. I replied. This building is owned by Pius. Who is Pius? I interjected. The gentleman didn’t answer. At this juncture, he picked up his glass of what I suppose must have contained Cameroon beer, took a sizeable sip and gulped it down in a go. Put down the glass in satisfaction and then said: “ Ndeifi Pius, the Cameroon football star of the Indomitable Lions.” Picked up his glass again and downed the rest of the three-quarter full glass of beer in one single swoop: with pride. I thanked him; made my polite excuses and left to return to the clinic.
At the entrance, I saw an assignation on a sign board but was not sure as I didn’t bring my glasses. When I arrived at the clinic I met a nurse and the doctor on the hallway. I asked: “What is the name of this clinic again?” So-lid-ar-ity, they answered in resonance and unison: a chorus resembling a choir derived straight out from the local hue. Now, if the name may fit its meaning, would they mind beginning the business of treating my Grandmother? She is ill and requires immediate medical attention. The two looked at me in surprise. What exactly is going on, I reflected. There must be something I appear not to understand here.
So, I went around the hall way and saw another nurse in what looked like a counter. I realised that she was smiling. Why is she smiling? Let me approach her and see. She may have the key to this mystifying medical visit. So, I asked her: “Why is nobody treating my Grandmother; I thought this is a clinic founded on solidarity with the people?” Well, yes but have you got any money with you? You are right; we are Solidarity but to be quite honest, you have to make a down payment before any kind of treatment can be administered onto her. We assure you that the service will be first class, she continued; and that we have first class doctors. How much is the deposit then? CFA 26, 500 frs (£35), she answered quickly. In a second, the Sangrian mystery was decoded, presumably, so I thought. In this case of life, therefore, I took out my wallet, extracted the amount stipulated and handed the cash to the nurse; and waited curiously to see what will happen. She counted the money; gave a nod and proclaimed in a reasonably loud voice: “Treatment”. To my ultimate dismay, the treatment began immediately and in earnest. I will like to state that the clinic has an excellent service and my Grandmother recovered within two days. Is this Solidarity? I questioned inwardly.
In Sangria land, one has to live on his wits’ ends. A system that has no National Health Service in place but relies solely on private health care, where money is the key to good health, is a benighted society doomed to fail. In the yesteryears, this part of contemporary Cameroon had a Department of Social Welfare that played a national role in the health of the West Cameroon people from the young to the old. Today that system has been destroyed with the elderly, the young and the poor subjected to ill-health due to lack of money. When we have a system where an elderly person who has spent all their youthful lives serving the nation are asked to pay up to £35, a sum close to the average monthly wage, to receive medical consultation, then one is inclined to believe that it is better to leave such a place and relocate where leaders are rational and responsible. This amy account for reasons as to why Africans will risk their lives to cross the daunting and unforgiving Sahara Desert; and to travel or swim through the Mediterranean Sea under dreadful conditions at sea to reach Europe where health care is free. Not so in my country where the ruling class themselves also prefer, paradoxically, to fly to Europe by business class for medical treatment on state funds rather than develop and maintain a national health service for the benefit of their own people; and the benevolent result that may ensue in terms of tangible peace and prosperity.
President Obama is right in proposing a Bill to extend healthcare to at least 40 million excluded American people who have been negelected for more than 200 years. His decision to halt the prohibitively expensive Bush-era Star Wars missile adventure in Poland and the former Eastern Block is both wise and pragmatic. It is grand and grotesque folly in a large scale to spend mind-blowing money on weapons that would be manned by the sick; or worse still, no man to use these guns and missiles. A Universal Health Service is a fundamental right for all men; and a pre-requisite to prosperity. African (and other world leaders of the same mould) should emulate President Obama; halt their deadly weapons and gun buying obsession to defend their corrupt and ignorant governments; and instead invest in the health of their people. There lies the secret of progress.
