By Tony Okafor
The decision by the Anambra State Ministry of Health to throw open the gates of the Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu University Teaching Hospital (COOUTH), Amaku, Awka, to journalists for an independent verification of allegations made by a former staff member is commendable.
Transparency is always preferable to official denials. It reflects confidence and a willingness to subject public institutions to scrutiny.
But the exercise should not be mistaken for the end of the matter.
A guided tour, however comprehensive, cannot by itself erase years of public perception or the daily experiences recounted by many patients and their relatives.
Across Anambra, and indeed Nigeria, complaints about public hospitals are all too familiar: long waiting hours, poor staff attitude, delayed emergency response, shortages of essential drugs, bureaucratic bottlenecks, inadequate communication with patients, referrals to private clinics owned by workers of public hospitals, and the widespread perception that quality care often depends on “who you know.” These are concerns that infrastructure alone cannot cure.
No one disputes that the government has invested in COOUTH over the years. If the roads have been rehabilitated, wards renovated, oxygen piped to patients’ bedsides, digital systems introduced, and a modern trauma centre equipped, these are commendable achievements that deserve public recognition.
But the ultimate measure of a teaching hospital is not the beauty of its buildings or the sophistication of its equipment. It is the quality, consistency, and compassion of the care patients receive every hour of every day.
It is also important to acknowledge a simple reality of human behaviour. Whenever people know that visitors, inspectors, or the media are coming to assess their homes or workplaces, extraordinary efforts naturally spring into action. Cleaning becomes more thorough, staff become more alert, and systems suddenly function at their very best. That is why inspections, while useful, should never replace continuous, unannounced quality assurance and honest engagement with patients.
The Ministry of Health and the COOUTH management should therefore resist the temptation to dismiss the concerns raised by Dr. Charles Kenechukwu merely because some of his claims were disputed during the inspection.
From every indication, he was an insider. Whether every allegation was accurate is less important than the fact that his intervention should be treated as a postcard from someone who once knew the institution from within.
Such criticism should be carefully examined, not personalised or politicised. Constructive criticism remains one of the most effective tools for institutional improvement.
A teaching hospital occupies a unique place in society. It is not just another government establishment. It trains future doctors and other health professionals, conducts research, manages complicated medical cases, and serves as a referral centre for countless patients from Anambra and neighbouring states. An institution of this calibre must be above board in its infrastructure, administration, clinical standards, and public accountability.
Public confidence is not won through facility tours alone. It is earned when patients consistently leave the hospital convinced that they were treated with dignity, professionalism, and urgency. It is built when emergency cases receive prompt attention regardless of status, when doctors and nurses demonstrate empathy, when essential drugs and equipment are readily available, and when excellence becomes routine rather than ceremonial.
The inspection by journalists was a commendable beginning. It should now give way to something even more important: sustained reforms that are visible not only to visiting journalists but to every patient who walks through the gates of COOUTH.
That, ultimately, is the inspection that truly matters.
