By Rev. Fr. (Dr.) Emmanuel Obadjere
I have reached a stage in my life where I am no longer impressed by titles. Regardless of the prefixes and suffixes a person bears, what matters to me is whether those titles have made the individual more humane or have inflated the ego into that of a demigod, a tyrant, or even a beast. This is the yardstick by which I determine whether someone deserves my respect.
Whether we are medical practitioners, professionals, or religious leaders, once our titles and positions make us lose our humanity, we become a danger to humanity itself.
In his 1992 Apostolic Exhortation Pastores Dabo Vobis (“I Will Give You Shepherds”), Pope St. John Paul II outlined the four pillars of priestly formation: human, spiritual, intellectual, and pastoral formation. He strongly emphasized that human formation is the indispensable foundation upon which all the other dimensions rest. It serves as a bridge, not an obstacle, to an encounter with Jesus Christ. In essence, the document insists that a priest must first be truly human—steeped in compassion, humility, and an awareness of his own humanity—before he can adequately develop the intellectual, spiritual, and pastoral dimensions of his vocation.
The Indian Jesuit priest, Fr. C. P. Varkey, in his book Be Human, Be Holy, writes: “Sanctity does not consist in being extraordinary or special but in being human, authentically human, even ordinarily human. It consists in being capable of dealing forthrightly, courageously and lovingly with the inescapable realities and events of life” (p. 21).
Just as human formation is foundational to every other aspect of personal development, so too is salus animarum (the salvation of souls) the supreme law guiding the Church’s mission. Consequently, the Church teaches that every priest must approach his ministry with the primary objective of leading souls to salvation. Everything else is secondary.
Similarly, the Hippocratic Oath, which physicians take before entering medical practice, lays down ethical principles that should govern the conduct of medical professionals. Among its core demands is beneficence—the obligation to do good, prevent harm, and promote the well-being of patients.
My Encounter at FMC, Otor-Udu
The Federal Medical Centre, Ovwian, currently operates from its take-off site at Otor-Udu, in Udu Local Government Area. Yesterday, July 17, 2026, I accompanied a parishioner whose wife was in prolonged labour to the Federal Medical Centre. Earlier, she had been transferred from a primary health centre to the General Hospital, Ughelli, after suffering labour complications for two days. By then, her condition had become critical, and she had begun to show signs of severe distress.
At the General Hospital, she was bluntly rejected on the grounds that she was too weak and that there was no available bed in the ward. When I learnt of the situation, I advised that she be taken immediately to the Federal Medical Centre.
Upon our arrival, the doctor on duty simply repeated what the nurses had already told us: “No bed.” Every appeal fell on deaf ears as the helpless woman lay in agony in the Accident and Emergency Unit.
In a desperate effort to save her life, I went to the office of the Chief Medical Director, but he was unavailable. Fortunately, I met a familiar face in the office of the Head of Administration, who joined our efforts to persuade the doctor on duty to attend to the patient. Sadly, all attempts failed. The doctor maintained his position:
“There is no bed. She must be attended to in the labour ward. A woman who has already delivered is still occupying a bed there because there is no space in the maternity ward.”
Throughout this ordeal, the doctor never came close to examine the patient. Instead, he suggested that she be referred to the Central Hospital, Warri. Twice he came around, and twice he refused to act, insisting repeatedly, “No bed.”
Then everything changed. A doctor identified simply as Dr. Chris arrived. After examining the woman, he declared:
“This is an emergency. We cannot send a woman in this condition away. We may lose both mother and baby. In situations like this, every available space becomes a life-saving room. Every theatre in this hospital must be put to use if necessary.”
He immediately ordered an ultrasound scan and other investigations and instructed that the patient be moved to the theatre.
Shortly afterwards, another doctor, Dr. Sodje, resumed duty. After assessing the patient, he completely agreed with Dr. Chris that immediate intervention was necessary.
Without further delay, the woman was wheeled into the operating theatre. Preparations for an emergency Caesarean section commenced while the team awaited the scan results. Once the results were available, the surgery proceeded without delay. In less than forty minutes, both mother and a handsome baby boy emerged safely from the theatre.
Dr. Chris, Dr. Sodje, and the entire surgical team were the heroes of the day. They demonstrated what it truly means to be human.
Whatever your vocation or profession, be a human being first. Humanity is the foundation of every genuine profession. Let compassion guide your decisions.
When we witness a hijab-wearing mob lynching a woman and throwing her body into a furnace, as reportedly happened recently in Kaduna State, what is absent is humanity. When people are beaten to death over allegations of blasphemy, humanity is missing. When robbers, kidnappers, or violent herders slaughter innocent people, what is lacking is humanity. And when professionals deliberately ignore people in obvious distress, they too diminish their own humanity.
Every one of us has a duty to humanise an increasingly dehumanised society. Therein lies the true measure of civilisation and the path to genuine happiness.
One final lesson is worth mentioning. Before nightfall yesterday, another woman experiencing labour complications was referred from the same Central Hospital, Warri, because there was no available bed. Ironically, that was the very hospital to which the first doctor had insisted we should take our patient.
