If there was ever anything that gave me goosebumps and immense pleasure, it was being surrounded by intellectuals and mature minds absorbing facts and figures about governance, economics, public health, policymaking, national security, and international relations. In such situations I easily lose myself, forgetting almost all other things.

Even at medical school, my best lectures were those with frequent digressions, whereby the lecturer would discuss the pathogenesis of diseases for 30 minutes and later sidetrack into discussing politics, governance, or other life issues. I always enjoyed classes led by Prof. Sagir Gumel, Dr. Murtala Abubakar, Dr. Rasheed Wemimo, Dr. Aliyu Mai Goro, and co.

During such lectures, I often observed some of my colleague’s disappointment for such deviation. I rather casually show indifference, for I was eternally grateful for such discussions due to the stimulatory effect they had on my mind.

After such classes, I sometimes followed up with the lecturer, not to ask about a medical concept I did not grasp, but to ask for further explanation on policy making, project execution, budgetary expenditures, why African countries are left behind, and similar pressing issues.

In situations where I can’t catch up with the lecturer, I jotted down the questions for further deliberation.

One of the manifest features I know about my greediness was reading books. I can open five different books in a day. I lack such discipline to finish up one before another. I can start reading ‘Mein Kampf’ by Adolf Hitler, and halfway through 300 pages, I would pick up ‘My Life’ by Sir Ahmadu Bello and would have to concurrently read both until the end.

I often scolded myself for such an attitude, but I can’t help myself. The only way to practice such discipline was to at least read two different books in a day. Such was a triumph in my practice of self-discipline. This was apart from my conventional medical textbooks.

To some of my friends, I was called an accidental medical doctor, but actually it was a perfect fate guided by the merciful Lord that I’m studying medicine. For it was only medicine that made reading books easier for you. Although time is precious in this profession, one finds it easier to do anything you are passionate about. The daily interaction we have with people at their most vulnerable state was another psychostimulant. Seeing humans suffering from disease conditions is heartachy. Some of the causes are mere ignorance, poverty, superstitions, and limited resources.

The contribution one can give couldn’t be limited to just prescribing drugs or surgical procedures that end up affecting one person. It’s much better to involve oneself in a position that may bring possible change to the whole society, even in the form of orientation.

What also motivated me more was how I wasn’t the first to traverse this similar path. Bibliophiles were common among medical students and medical professionals.

At the international level, the former Prime Minister of Malaysia, Dr. Mahathir Muhammad, was a physician. Most of the current economic development of Malaysia was attributed to him. The South American revolutionary figure Che Guevara was a physician. Atul Gawande was an endocrinologist, health policy analyst, adviser to former President Obama, campaign volunteer to former President Bill Clinton, and adviser to USAID/WHO on health policies.

Frantz Fanon was another physician, psychiatrist, racial discrimination activist, and political writer. Dr. Zakir Naik was a renowned Islamic scholar, comparative religion expert, and physician.

At the national level, Prof. Usman Yusuf is a haematologist, former NHIS DG, and currently a political activist. Dr. Aminu Abdullahi Taura was a psychiatrist and former SSG to the Jigawa state government. Dr. Nuraddeen Muhammad was a psychiatrist and former cabinet minister to President Goodluck Jonathan.

During ward rounds and clinics, my mind often wanders to enquire not just about the diagnosis but the actual cause of the disease condition; why would a 17-year-old multiparous young lady develop peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM)? Why would a 5-year-old child develop severe anaemia from a mosquito bite? Why would a 25-year-old friend of mine develop chronic kidney disease, and his family would have to sell all their belongings for his treatment? Why are our Accident and Emergency units filled with road traffic accident cases? Was it bad road conditions or lack of adherence to traffic laws and orders?

Why are African countries still battling with 19th-century diseases like tuberculosis, filariasis, and malarial infections? Why are issues of fighting cervical cancer and vaccination campaigns treated with contempt in our societies? Why was access to basic primary healthcare in Nigeria still a luxury 50 years after the Alma Ata declaration?

The questions are never-ending…

Answers to these questions could be found not in the conventional medical textbooks like Robbins/Cotrand, Davidson, or Sabiston. Answers to these questions are there on our faces. Answers to these questions are tied to the very fabric of our social life, our public institutions, our culture, and our life perspectives.

In order to make any significant contribution towards the betterment of this kind of society, it would be quite easier as an insider rather than an outsider. You can’t bring any positive outcome by just talking or commenting. It was rightly stated that a cat in gloves catches no mice.

The real players in a game are always better than the spectators. A player deserves accolades despite his shortcomings, frequent falls, and inability to deliver as planned theoretically. For the player has seen it all, because so many things in public life are not as they appear. It’s only when you are there that the reality becomes visible. This is the reason why many leaders who have goodwill and enjoy public support appear to have lost track or contributed insignificantly when elected or appointed into office.

But despite all these challenges, one can’t decline to do something good just because something bad might happen. The risk is worth it….

Saifullahi Attahir wrote from Federal University Dutse.
Saifullahiattahir93@gmail.com