THE STRIKE OF THE NURSES, THE SUFFERING OF A NATION

By Anthony EKPO BASSEY  

Let us not beat around the bush: when nurses go on strike, the nation is on life support. The very people who hold our loved ones' hands during their final breaths, who stay awake when the world sleeps, have been pushed to the wall. And now, they are speaking in the only language that gets attention in this land: absence!

We plead with the angels in white: remember Florence Nightingale. Remember the Lady with the Lamp, whose footsteps in war-torn Crimea were whispers of hope. She stood not for glory but for duty; not for applause but for humanity. She healed amidst gunfire, cleaned wounds without pause, and bathed the dying in dignity. If Nightingale could brave cannon fire with a candle in her hand, can we not ask today’s nurses to carry her flame?

Now, do not mistake this for sentimentality. It is not about romanticising suffering. Nobody is asking nurses to martyr themselves for a broken system. This is a call for heroism with wisdom and a balancing act between advocacy and mercy. It is knowing when to hold the line, and when to hold a hand. Nurses, your fight is just, your voice must be heard but can it speak in a way that does not let the weakest among us perish while the powerful remain deaf?

Let us not forget, while the nurses are striking, politicians are sleeping. Not under hospital lights, but in mansions powered by uninterrupted light and uninterrupted privilege. A little bird told me a senator recently got a brand-new bulletproof SUV. Meanwhile, the nurse on night duty cannot afford a decent meal. Isn't that just peachy?

To those in government, particularly at the federal level: wake up and smell the antiseptic. The people you are ignoring are not ordinary staff. They are the backbone of our entire healthcare system. They are the difference between a routine childbirth and a funeral. Between recovery and regret. To keep turning a blind eye is not only insensitive, it is criminal negligence dressed in agbada.

You find funds for flashy projects, for jamborees, and for cosmetic budget padding but when it comes to nurses, suddenly the treasury is tighter than a miser’s fist. Let us not pretend. If your own mother were in a ward today, gasping for care, would you still be unmoved?

Proverbs remind us: “The one who fetches water is the one who knows how deep the well is.” The nurses know how broken the system is because they live in it. You sit in air-conditioned offices sipping imported coffee while they reuse gloves and make do with expired gauze. The least you can do is listen, truly listen.

Nurses, we understand. You have been overworked, underpaid, and disrespected. You have cleaned wounds with tears in your eyes and swallowed your pain to soothe others. You've danced with death daily, only to be paid in peanuts and promises. But now, you hold a different kind of power, not only the power to heal, but to shake the conscience of a nation. Let it be a gentle shaking.

Let it be a righteous stand, not a ruthless strike. Channel Nightingale. Hold the lamp again, not because they deserve it, but because the patients do. The elderly woman with ulcers. The child with sickle cell. The accident victim with eyes begging for care. They did not cause this. Do not let them bear the brunt of it.

And to the government, we say: fix this mess. Quickly. With sincerity. Before the silence in our hospitals becomes a dirge. Before your indifference becomes a headline. Before the blood of neglect stains not just aprons, but history.

For in the end, when the hands that heal rise in protest, it is not just a strike, it is a scream. And if you refuse to hear it, may your ears ring forever with the silence of those who died waiting.