Between The Military Hospital and The Niger Delta Commission
By
Eben Dokubo
ebendokubo@yahoo.com
One of the enduring landmarks of Port Harcourt is the Military
Hospital. It is located on sprawling grounds which straddle the low
density Government Reservation Area (GRA), and Aba Road, the main
trunk road that bisects the city. In yesteryears, it was dotted with
flower gardens and trees that blossom all year long, spewing exotic
fragrances which waft into the wards from a variety of tropical
flowers. The ambience no doubt, aided the healing process. The
hospital was built in the early sixties by Shell-BP, the corporate
predecessor of today’s Shell Petroleum Development Company. Its
original name was Delta Clinic, although it was a full fledged
hospital and catered for the health needs of the company’s expatriate
and Nigerian staff. Its well maintained lawns, long walkways, and
quaint buildings are a nostalgic reminder of what the Garden City
looked like.
Following the liberation of Port Harcourt in May 1968 during the
Nigerian Civil War, the military took over strategic structures such
as the Silver Valley Estate, owned by Mr. Rogers Halliday, the Port
Harcourt Airport, Anglican Grammar School, Rainbow Town, Delta Clinic
and a vast expanse of Ikwerre farmlands. The farmlands were converted
to Bori Camp, Silver Valley Estate became the Garrison Headquarters,
Port Harcourt Airport was turned into The Air force Base. Rainbow
Town, a model low and medium income residential estate built by
Eastern Nigerian Housing Corporation retained its name but became army
barracks while Delta Clinic became the Military Hospital. Anglican
Grammar was transformed into a Naval Base and the Nigerian Navy
Secondary School.
Because of the strategic location of Port Harcourt as a seaport,
railway terminus, and getaway to the oilfields of the Niger Delta, all
branches of the nation’s security and defence apparatus are located
here. The Army has the headquarters of the amphibious brigade,
Airforce has a tactical command, the Navy has three major outposts at
the Borokiri peninsula, Onne, and Rumuolumeni. The combined population
of these formations is over 25,000. The Military Hospital is saddled
with the task of taking care of the medical needs of these men and
women in uniform and their families. Since after the Military
“inherited” it from Shell nearly fifty years ago, no significant new
structures have been added.
Serving in Port Harcourt these days is not a tea party. Officers and
men from these units are responsible for safeguarding oil and gas
infrastructure which account for the financial sustenance of Nigeria.
They also form the bulk of the Joint Military Task Force (JTF)
responsible for handling the peculiar challenges of the restive oil
rich area. The place of choice for treating casualties is the Military
Hospital.
In early July, while visiting a patient at the Military Hospital, I
was shocked, even by contemporary Nigerian standards, to observe that
when there was public power failure after dark, candlelight was the
alternative source of illumination. In other words, routine and
life-saving equipment if at all they are available, cannot be deployed
to save the lives of anyone wounded on active service. Since after
that visit, I now cast a glance in the direction of the Military
Hospital each time I drive by at night. As I write this in the second
week of September, more often than not, the place is in pitch
darkness.
Whatever the nation’s defence priorities are, the Military Hospital
Port Harcourt must have a functional Accident and Emergency Unit,
Trauma Centre, Burn Centre, Operating Theatres, Radiology, Pharmacy
and Intensive Care Units. Uninterrupted power supply must be
guaranteed before these units can be deemed to be available. If these
and other ancillary departments are not functional even for five
minutes due to power outage, then the Military Hospital Port Harcourt
is not even worthy of being called a mere consulting clinic.
Could it be that the import, relevance, necessity, and inevitability
of having a full-fledged functional military hospital is lost on the
powers that be in Nigeria? Can vital infrastructure be protected by
maimed, ailing, or half-fit officers and men? If the answer to any of
the above is yes, then our main source of income is in imminent
danger.
I
am constrained to draw a parallel between the Military Hospital and
the Niger Delta Development Commission, an institution, whose plight
saddens me immensely. The latter, being an intervention agency is the
arrow-head of the efforts of the Federal Government to develop the
Niger Delta, the goose that lays the golden egg which sustains Nigeria
financially. Established with good intentions, it is perpetually
hamstrung by paucity of funds. It is difficult to see what miracle the
newly inaugurated Board of the Commission can accomplish, their
enthusiasm, commitment, experience, expertise and antecedents of
professional and personal competence not withstanding.
While in the last three months over 150 billion naira has been
approved by the Federal Executive Council for various projects in
Abuja (70 billion naira for expanding the airport road, and 84 billion
naira for infrastructural development in the outskirts), NDDC which
caters for nine states is to receive 120 billion naira in 2010
budget, which comes to an average of a mere 11.3 billion per state per
annum. This is less than the 11.5 billion naira which the People’
Democratic Party (PDP) gleefully announced recently as the cost of
building a befitting National Secretariat.
Could it also be that the import, relevance, necessity, and
inevitability of developing the Niger Delta through the NDDC is lost
on the powers that be in Nigeria as seems to be the case with the
easily solvable problems of the Military Hospital?
Funds earmarked, budgeted, appropriated and approved for the NDDC
totalling over 320 billion naira, have, for whatever reason, not been
released over the years. Neither litigation by Youth Groups, nor the
hoarse voices of crusading citizens have pried these funds from the
inexplicable self-destructive vice grip of bureaucracy and politics.
A government that can fork out 420 billion naira in a twinkling of an
eye to salvage five privately owned banks so as not to endanger the
banking grid can certainly cough out 320 billion naira to safeguard
the all-important oil and gas industry. I strongly recommend that a
minimum of 200 billion naira out of this fund be used to create
immediate skilled and unskilled manpower-intensive public service
jobs. Just the announcement of this initiative will disperse the
pervasive ominous clouds blighting the Niger Delta and Nigeria as a
whole. To borrow a phrase from Barak Obama’s inspiring concept, YES WE
CAN.
It is incumbent on VP Goodluck Jonathan, Godwin Abbe, Rilwanu Lukman,
Ufot Ekaette, Diezani Alison-Madueke, Odein Ajumogobia, Lamido Sanusi
(who by the way looks spiffy in his Niger Delta regalia), John Odey,
Godsday Orubebe, Dora Akuyili, Mansur Muhtar Michael Aoondoaka, David
Mark, and Dimeji Bankole to exert in their personal and official
capacities, the extra effort required to release the stalemated Niger
Delta people’s funds due the NDDC forthwith. This can be done before
the end of the sixty-day amnesty/ceasefire window of opportunity, the
verifiable result of which is increased production of oil and gas and
improved revenue inflow.
As for the Distinguished Senators and Honourable members of the House
of Representatives especially those representing Niger Delta
constituencies, need they be told?
Eben Dokubo
ebendokubo@yahoo.com
Port Harcourt Nigeria |