Reflections on Nigeria (12/25) from a Provider Perspective: Insights

In December, I had the remarkable opportunity to join Precious Hands Foundation to Aba, Nigeria, for a medical mission serving patients in both rural villages and urban communities. From the moment we arrived, we were met with warmth, music, laughter, and an overwhelming sense of welcome. Despite long lines and long waits, for the most part, patients greeted us with smiles, gratitude—reminding us that joy and generosity thrive even in the most challenging circumstances.  One morning before starting the clinic, we gathered the children and danced and sang in a big group, reminding us of humanity. I was drawn to the representation of the Igbo culture, the unique energy of the pain hidden in the smile for not having enough medical care. Even in illness and uncertainty, there was a deep sense of gratitude, faith, and joy that was humbling to see as they sat waiting for hours to be seen. Sadly I discovered that more than half of the children, have not seen a pediatrician for more than 7 years.

Over four days at two locations, our team cared for more than 2,500 individuals, including children. We provided medications for common and often life-threatening conditions, including malaria, typhoid, hypertension, diabetes, and parasitic infections. But our work extended beyond treatment. We conducted screenings for hepatitis B and C, diabetes, and hypertension, and held large group education sessions focused on prevention.  Local optometrists partnered with us to perform vision screenings and distribute eyeglasses—moments often met with amazement, and quiet tears as patients saw clearly for the first time in years.

The true backbone of this mission was the local healthcare workforce. Nurses, lab technicians, and physicians brought not only clinical skill, but cultural insight, language, and deep community trust. Working alongside an Igbo-speaking pediatrician, I heard stories of extraordinary resilience alongside heartbreaking loss. Children still die daily from preventable diseases, and yet their families continue to show up—with hope.

We encountered congenital glaucoma linked to maternal rubella infections, severe malnutrition beginning in the newborn period due to maternal undernutrition, and limited access to specialty care for infants and young children. Drug resistance was common, driven by the widespread use of local “chemists,” where medications are mixed and dispensed without diagnostic testing. 

Surgical cases presented themselves and the most common things seen were hydroceles, inguinal hernias, and fibroids.  Through generous donations, we were able to support 32 surgical procedures performed by an experienced family physician who owns and operates his own hospital. Like many physicians in resource-limited areas, he provides comprehensive care—adult and pediatric, medical and surgical—because the community depends on it.

Experiences such as these, remind us that global health lessons matter locally. Prevention, education, and advocacy are universal tools, and health equity is both global and local. Utilizing local resources and empowering the community created hope and togetherness that will endure long after we leave.  I hope to return to Aba often to provide consistent care and to partner with local authorities in addressing the long-term health challenges facing these communities. The lessons of prevention, compassion—and joy—are ones I will carry forward wherever I practice.