The Gambia’s Ministry of Health has been quick to celebrate its efforts in strengthening healthcare, pointing to renovated facilities and high-profile projects like the multimillion-dalasi refurbishment of the Edward Francis Small Teaching Hospital (EFSTH). Yet, for the average Gambian, these announcements ring hollow. Behind the fanfare of ribbon-cutting ceremonies lies a healthcare system in crisis—one where patients still struggle to access basic medicines, hospitals lack essential equipment, and corruption drains resources meant for public health.
While the government boasts about infrastructure upgrades, the real measure of a healthcare system is whether it delivers quality care to those who need it. In Gambia, patients frequently find themselves buying their own medical supplies—syringes, gloves, even painkillers—because hospitals are perpetually understocked. A newly painted ward means little if there are no doctors available or no antibiotics to treat infections. The focus on buildings over services has left the system looking polished on the surface but failing where it matters most.
The situation at EFSTH exposes the rot at the core of the healthcare sector. Senior officials, including the Chief Medical Director and his deputy, Dr Jagne, have been implicated in shocking corruption scandals. Dr Jagne allegedly received payments for drug procurements directly into his personal bank account in Ghana—an egregious diversion of public funds meant for lifesaving medicines. Another scandal involved a theater bed purchased for thousands of dollars that never arrived at the hospital. These were not just rumours; they were documented by the hospital’s Board Chairman and later confirmed by an external audit. Yet, despite clear evidence, no meaningful action was taken. The Health Minister, Dr Ahmadou Samateh, was reportedly aware of these issues, raising serious questions about whether corruption was deliberately ignored to protect certain individuals.
Under Dr Samateh’s leadership, the Ministry of Health has prioritised visible projects—like ambulance procurements and building renovations—over systemic improvements. While ambulances are important, they are only one piece of the puzzle. What good is an ambulance if the hospital it takes patients to lacks the staff, equipment, or medicines to treat them? The millions spent on cosmetic upgrades could have been used to address chronic shortages of drugs, improve diagnostic services, or expand training for healthcare workers. Instead, Gambia’s only radiography programme remains a diploma course, with no investment in higher-level training. Without skilled professionals, even the most modern facilities will sit underused, leaving patients without critical care.
Four years of mismanagement and corruption have left Gambia’s healthcare system in a dire state. The government’s public relations campaigns cannot mask the daily struggles of patients who face exorbitant costs for private care because public hospitals fail them. Real reform requires more than just flashy projects—it demands accountability for those stealing public funds, transparency in procurement, and a genuine focus on delivering essential services rather than political showpieces. Until then, the promises of improved healthcare will remain empty words, and ordinary Gambians will continue to pay the price with their health and lives.
Let Justice Guide Our Action.
Ansumana Darboe
