Déjà vu. It’s like Abdulrasheed Maina all over again. For a long time, the disgraced former boss of the Presidential Pension Reform Task Force, Abdulrasheed Maina, gave the impression that he was working overtime to save Nigeria from rogues who had cornered the country’s pension fund. Maina didn’t just give the impression that he was working. He claimed that he was on a rescue mission to save pensioners who were dying daily after years of waiting in vain for their pensions to be paid. He went about his job in a rather unorthodox way, riding convoys of armed policemen and soldiers and keeping a retinue of personal staff that his bosses could only dream about.
Long story short, after nearly two years of Nollywood grade drama, it came to light that the blue-eyed prince charming of the downtrodden pensioners had, in fact, helped himself to about N195billion and was declared wanted by multiple security agencies as at 2013. He robbed pensioners to pay himself.
Yusuf kept telling anyone who would listen that the minister was wasting his time and just keeping his job for him: he would return. And just like Maina, he returned big.
It happened, just as Yusuf has said. Not that the ministerate humble pie, which honestly, would have been face- saving in comparison
But that’s not the whole story. By some extraordinary act of bureaucratic magic this same pension rogue returned to the civil service. He was not only reinstated he was also given protection by state security service. He was paid salary arrears for his three years of absence without leave and then promoted to a higher rank as token of our national appeasement.
It took the collective outrage of 190 million Nigerians to get President Muhammadu Buhari to notice the aberration, and even when he did, he only managed to shoo Maina out of office; the President couldn’t quite find the mojo to prosecute him.
Maina’s cousins everywhere took note. One of them is the Executive Secretary of the National Health Insurance Scheme (NHIS), Usman Yusuf. In June last year, the Minister of Health, Isaac Adewole, suspended Yusuf – with the approval of Vice President Yemi Osinbajo – over allegations of misconduct, nepotism and theft of public funds.
Yusuf kept telling anyone who would listen that the minister was wasting his time and just keeping his job for him: he would return. And just like Maina, he returned big.
It happened, just as Yusuf has said. Not that the ministerate humble pie, which honestly, would have been face- saving in comparison. In a humiliation which makes humble pie taste like comfort food, the Presidency returned Yusuf to his office in February, effectively making him the minister’s boss.
The minister squirmed, but he let it slide. The problem did not go away. If anything, things got worse. The unfinished investigation into the allegation of fraud against Yusuf was buried in the toxified atmosphere o his return. He was enabled to commit even greater travesty. He awarded contracts above his grade without the Board’s approval and, in spite of advice to the contrary, posted out and redeployed staff on a whim.
Until Thursday. The NHIS Board, led by a distinguished health professional and paediatrician, Dr. Enyantu Ifenne, could not stand Yusuf’s insolence any longer. The Board announced his suspension, sparking instant jubilation among staff.
But again, just like Maina, this Yusuf is proving to be a cat with multiple lives. He stormed the same office where he had been suspended only days earlier, unleashing a wave of panic and fear amongst staff.
At the time of writing, the Board was still in shock, but the minister had responded. Sadly, his comments in PREMIUM TIMES sounded as if he was speaking from under his desk, careful not to offend Yusuf again. If the Presidency overruled the minister the first time, who is to that the latest decision of the Board, which reports to the minister, would stand?
And have our police become so idle that they can be conveniently recruited and deployed in this shameful manner? Maina used them to run his errands; factional Nigerian Football Federation Chairman, Rufus Giwa, used them to try to re-install himself through the backdoor; and now, Yusuf is using them to perpetrate his own custom-made agenda.
Of course, it’s been whispered in some quarters that it’s not a personal agenda; that HMOs that were denied licence renewal are behind Yusuf’s travail. And the HMOs have managed to buy off most of the staff, the unions, healthcare providers and public opinion?
In the midst of all the nonsense, it is very easy to lose sight of the real victims. It’s true that things have improved somewhat in recent times. But there’s still so much left undone, it’s a pity that the Yusufs of this world think that the scheme was set up for
them.
Thirteen years after it was established, the NHIS has only been able to provide cover for 10 per cent or 18 million of Nigeria’s 180 million population, and this figure is mostly those in the civil service and the formal sector.
World Health Organisation figures put the coverage at 3 per cent.
While the country has spent the last nearly two years massaging Yusuf’s ego, millions of potential beneficiaries from the service are left out, because staff who should be focussed on delivering service are on edge.
While out-of-pocket payments remain the largest form of healthcare in Africa, constituting a worrying 60 per cent of health expenses (from 20 per cent in 2000), some countries in the continent have made progress.
Compare our current position with Ghana, for example, which has achieved one-third coverage for its 40 million population; South Africa, which has achieved 16 per cent for its 57 million population; or Rwanda, which has achieved 91 per cent its 13 million people?
There’s work to be done. Serious work. The Nigerian government has to decide if it wishes to prioritise the ego of one man over the well-being of millions of citizens for whom NHIS currently means nothing.
Ishiekwene is the Managing Director/Editor-In-Chief of The Interview and member of the board of the Global Editors Network
