by Yusuff Baishe
On June 22nd, during a WritAfrica Baraza forum, a deep concern regarding healthcare services in Lamu was brought to the forefront. A local resident, Aunt Njerii, voiced her frustration: “What saddens me is that at our King Fahad Referral Hospital, there is a lack of medication in the general wards. Yet, surprisingly, upstairs there is plenty of medicine, simply because it is treated as private healthcare.”
A staff member at the hospital, requesting anonymity, defended the facility: “As of now, the store is well-stocked. I am ready to take you inside to see. The medicine upstairs is not from KEMSA; it is for those with insurance, and those medications are much more expensive than the ones in the general wards. However, patients who prefer to pay with cash are also treated there.”
A Deep Dive into the Reality
Following these claims, I conducted a follow-up at the hospital. I spoke to many Amu Island residents, and their experiences mirrored Aunt Njerii’s concerns. “King Fahad has no medicine,” they consistently claimed. One patient, Mama Esha, told me, “If you ask for medicine, they tell you there is none and advise you to try the private section upstairs.” A man standing nearby added, “They just take the medicine from down here, move it upstairs, and then sell it to us at a higher price.”
I also spoke with Salwa Mahamud, who complained about more than just medicine: “I went for tests and paid the fees, only to be told the test couldn’t be performed. I was shocked.”
The Conflict of Perspective
When I revisited the staff member to address these public complaints, they remained firm: “Lamu residents struggle to understand that the upstairs section is for the private sector, which is more expensive. For example, a bed in the public ward costs 250 shillings, while in the private wing, it is 6,000 shillings. The medicine upstairs is bought by insurance companies from different suppliers. It is not being stolen from the general wards; our community just does not want to understand that.”
The Patients’ Experience
Despite these explanations, the frustration on the ground remains intense. One of the mentees from the WritAfrica program recently visited the hospital and shared her experience:
“Just from King Fahad hospital… The only dawa nimepata ni panadol. Hawana Amoxiclar. A simple antibiotic. Yet tumeambiwa dawa zimekuja juzi tu. Kunaendaje endaje??” Those were her words.
As the debate continues, the gap between the hospital’s official stance and the daily reality of the patients remains a growing source of tension for the residents of Lamu.
