CAN WE BAN POLITICAL OFFICE HOLDERS FROM MEDICAL TOURISM ABROAD?

Anthony EKPO BASSEY
Can we ban political office holders from embarking on medical tourism abroad? Yes, we can! "He who wears the shoe knows where it pinches," so says the wisdom of our elders. But when those who wear the shoes of power fly abroad to ease their aches, they lose sight of where the pinch truly lies, in the soles of the nation they swore to serve. It is high time we enacted a law to bar political and public office holders from seeking medical treatment abroad. Not out of spite or envy, but from a firm resolve to heal our bleeding health sector and spare the nation from further indignities.
The health of a nation is the wealth of a nation. If the shepherd abandons the flock when the wolves come, what hope is there for the sheep? Our leaders, by turning their backs on the hospitals they themselves oversee, send an unfortunate message to the populace: “This house is not fit to live in.” Yet, they built it. And if the roof leaks and the walls crumble, should the builder not be the first to dwell within and repair it?
Medical tourism by government officials has not only bled our economy but also eroded public confidence in our healthcare system. Every time a senator, governor, or dignitary boards a flight to Europe, America, or the Middle East for basic medical care, they expose the rot they have left to fester at home.
When leaders limp off to London for every ache and ailment, leaving local hospitals to decay, it is clear that they have more faith in foreign beds than in the very land they govern. This is not leadership. It is luxury disguised as necessity. As the elders say, “The bird that flies off the tree does not know the storm it leaves behind.” The electorate must now ask tough questions: does your candidate believe in the system they wish to oversee? Will they seek healing with the people or flee the country at the first cough? A leader who cannot lie in the hospital they helped build should not be trusted to build a nation.
During elections, manifestos are many, but let one marker be firm: no vote for any who would not vow to treat their bodies where they serve. Let the ballot reflect the belief that public service begins with shared sacrifice, not medical self-service.
While our poor pensioners wait in weary queues and mothers deliver in candle-lit clinics, our ministers make merry in private jets to foreign hospitals. The cost of these clinical crusades is not only counted in currency, but in confidence. Can you imagine the confidence lost in our own doctors, our own systems, our own dignity? From flights to follow-up, from hotel suites to homeward-bound caskets, billions bleed from our budgets while our health centres sit in silence. “When the soup is sweet, the poor man’s spoon disappears,” yet it is his taxes that pay for the feast. Why must the masses fund the fevers of the few? Leaders must learn that healing starts at home. If they must rule the people, they must also lie in their pain, sweat in their wards, and trust in their treatments.
Let those who lead learn loyalty to the land that feeds them. A law must bind them, but the ballot must judge them. The electorate must demand this as a new doctrine: “No more medical migrations on the public purse.” Let every aspirant affirm it from councillor to commander-in-chief. For what sense is there in a shepherd who would not drink from the same stream as his sheep? “He who fetches firewood with ants must prepare for lizards.” If they neglect hospitals today, they will return in hearses tomorrow. Enough of the embalmed pride, the expensive farewells, the public pity paid for in pounds. Let the people remember that: Only those who heal with us deserve to lead us.