ESABA’S HEALTHCARE TRAGEDY

By Moses Darah

February 13, 2026

In the quiet Island stretch of Ughelli South Local Government Area, Delta State, Esaba community lives under a daily reality that should alarm any society that values human life: sickness is often a death sentence, and childbirth a gamble with fate. At the centre of this crisis is the dilapidated Esaba Healthcare Centre, currently operating from a rented apartment. Recent pictures shared on the Esaba WhatsApp platform reveal a facility resembling an abandoned shrine, neglected, and unable to serve the thousands who depend on it. Some of the photographs also show an abandoned permanent structure of the health centre; an uncompleted and unused building that stands as a painful symbol of neglect and broken promises. The centre now has only one matron.

When my family relocated from Otutuama to Esaba in the mid-1980s, residents relied largely on traditional healers and masseurs (irhere) such as Pa Waka, Pa Asifor, and Pa Awolowo Muayor, who offered their services free of charge. A few individuals provided basic medical assistance: Sir Richard Baidemu Vwavware Ekabo served as an auxiliary nurse, while Sane Oyibu functioned as an auxiliary nurse and chemist. Healthcare was rudimentary, but it was something the community could depend on.

Around 2010, the Esaba Healthcare Centre was formally established, becoming the only reliable source of treatment for Esaba and neighbouring communities including Otutuama, Ophorigbala, Iwhreogun, and Otitiri. Though small and poorly equipped, it brought hope. Pregnant women attended antenatal clinics, children were treated for malaria and infections, and minor emergencies could be managed before they became fatal. It was a thin line between life and death but at least it existed.

That line vanished when the clinic lost its founding matron in 2014. Appeals by community leaders for government intervention the completion of the permanent structure and adequate staffing have yielded little response. Today, the facility that once saved lives stands hollow: understaffed, under-resourced, and incapable of meeting even the most basic healthcare needs.

A 2015 report by Seun Akioye titled “Esaba: A Community Where Men Are Afraid to Sleep with Their Wives” captured the depth of the crisis and showed just how devastating the consequences have been. Expectant mothers now face pregnancy with fear rather than joy. Without skilled birth attendants or emergency services, many rely on traditional birth attendants or herbalists. When complications arise, families are forced into dangerous journeys by canoe and motorcycle over muddy, nearly impassable roads to reach hospitals in Warri, Otu-Jeremi or other towns. Some never make it.

Residents recount heartbreaking stories of women losing their babies on the way to hospitals, children dying from treatable illnesses, and injuries becoming fatal simply because no trained medical professional was available. In Esaba, a night-time labour or sudden illness can quickly spiral into tragedy. What should be routine medical situations often end in mourning.

Preventive care has also collapsed. Immunisation programmes have dwindled, and routine health checks are almost nonexistent. Many families now rely on self-medication or traditional remedies, not out of preference, but necessity. The absence of reliable healthcare has created widespread anxiety, forcing residents to live cautiously and fearfully.

Yet the people of Esaba have not been idle. They previously contributed funds to rent and maintain the health centre building and supported its operations through communal effort. Their commitment demonstrated resilience and collective responsibility. But without government support, trained personnel, equipment, and consistent funding, the community’s efforts have proven insufficient.

The tragedy of Esaba’s healthcare centre reflects a broader crisis in rural healthcare delivery. Communities that contribute to the economic wealth of the state and nation remain cut off from essential services. The contrast between nearby industrial activity and the absence of basic medical care underscores a painful reality: development has bypassed those who need it most.

Reviving the Esaba Healthcare Centre would immediately reduce preventable deaths and restore confidence in public institutions. Posting qualified health workers, rehabilitating the facility, and ensuring a regular supply of drugs and equipment are urgent steps. Equally important is improving road access so emergency referrals can be made quickly and safely.

For the people of Esaba, a functioning healthcare centre is not a luxury. It is a necessity. It represents safety for pregnant women, survival for sick children, and dignity for an entire community. Until it is restored, residents will continue to live on the edge, where every illness carries the shadow of loss.

Esaba’s healthcare tragedy is a call to conscience. Restoring the health centre will not only save lives; it will restore hope to a community that has endured far too much for far too long.