KADUNA — Two months after President Bola Ahmed Tinubu stood under ribbon and flashbulbs to commission a 300-bed specialist hospital at Millennium City, residents say the facility lies emptied of staff, patients and even the vehicles that appeared for the presidential visit.
What was billed as a turning-point for healthcare in northern Nigeria — and named in the president’s honour, has become, critics say, a ceremonial mirage: photo-op ready, but functionally unusable.
On 23 August 2025 Umar Baba-Ali, a former APC state delegate who lives in Millennium City, told reporters he inspected the complex and found it “empty” — no clinicians on duty, no administrative personnel, and none of the temporary transport assets that accompanied the presidential entourage during the inauguration.
“They told us they had commissioned the hospital. But look at it now — the hospital is deserted,” he said, adding that the presence of trucks and temporary tents during Tinubu’s visit had created the impression of a working facility that, in reality, does not exist.
A history of starts, stops and funding gaps
The saga of the Millennium City hospital is not new to Kaduna. The project dates back well over a decade: initially conceived under then-governor Namadi Sambo, it has passed through several administrations — left half-finished, remobilised, stalled and revived again.
Reporting by major national outlets and archival accounts show the scheme drew funding attention from the Islamic Development Bank and successive state governments, yet for years the site suffered neglect and weeds, and contractors were at times demobilised.
State authorities say the present completion and commissioning came after a fresh push under Governor Uba Sani, with the president invited to officiate.
The new complex, various reports say, comprises nine wings and was advertised as housing intensive care facilities, radiology and maternal-child units, with approval lined up for a cancer centre and nuclear medical applications.
Those are the headlines; the reality on the ground, residents insist, is much thinner.
What “commissioning” meant — optics or operations?
The key question is simple but damning: did officials commission a completed, staffed and equipped hospital, or did they commission a building? Nigeria’s public-sector reality has long blurred the line between symbolic inauguration and operational readiness.
In Kaduna’s case, social media footage and local accounts suggest contractors and event organisers staged an impressive ceremony, then removed non-permanent assets once the media left.
Witnesses say the cars, temporary power units and marquees used for the presidential visit were gone within days. That starkly contrasts with the language used at the event, and what people were promised.
The silence from official quarters has been notable. Local government spokespeople and the state’s health ministry have not, at the time of writing, published a detailed operational plan or staffing roster showing when wards will open and which clinical services will be available.
The absence of a published timeline, such as staffing, medical equipment deliveries, licensing for nuclear medicine and cancer-care accreditation, leaves the public to wonder if the commissioning was primarily political theatre. (Requests for comment were sent to the Kaduna State Ministry of Health and the Office of the Governor; no substantive replies were received by deadline.)
A pattern, not an exception
This incident is not an isolated oddity. Over the years Nigerian federal and state governments have frequently staged inaugurations of infrastructural projects prior to true readiness, sometimes to meet political calendars, sometimes to capture photo opportunities for visiting dignitaries.
The result is a steady erosion of public trust: citizens familiar with the Millennium City site remember rusting machinery and overgrown grounds from earlier aborted attempts to complete the hospital.
The public mood now is one of frustration and cynicism: people crave functioning healthcare, not plaques and place cards.
Naming fights and political credit
Another sore point is the hospital’s name. Residents and local opinion leaders have asked why the facility, which was a project they say began under Namadi Sambo and progressed under El-Rufai and others, was named after President Tinubu.
Governor Uba Sani’s decision to confer the president’s name on the hospital during the commissioning sparked complaints that historical credit is being rewritten for short-term political gain.
Sambo himself has been quoted as describing completion as a fulfilment of an earlier dream; to have that legacy overwritten without clear acknowledgment of the project’s multi-administration pedigree fuels local resentment.
What needs investigating — and who should answer
Several urgent lines of inquiry, include the following:
Operational readiness audit — obtain the hospital’s commissioning certificate and internal sign-offs; request inventories for equipment supposedly delivered (IMAGING, ICU, theatre, dialysis, oncology) and cross-check serial numbers and delivery receipts.
Staffing and budget trail — secure payroll records, staff postings and the state health budget tranches earmarked for running costs. Was there an approved recurrent budget for salaries, consumables and maintenance? If not, the facility cannot be run.
Procurement and contractor records — who supplied the temporary vehicles, marquees and generators that appeared during the visit? Were they leased, purchased, or supplied by a third party for the event? Where did they go?
Funding accountability — trace IDB or other international financing linked to the project; confirm conditions, equipment-purchase mandates and disbursement status. Past reporting indicates multi-million dollar loans were made available; the public deserves to know whether funds were expended on the site.
A civic demand: transparency now
Citizens of Kaduna, and Nigerians who follow public spending, are entitled to two things: truth and functionality. Photo-ops do not feed patients; plaques do not treat cancer.
If the hospital truly lacks staff and equipment, the governor’s office must publish a clear, itemised rectification plan with dates, budgets and named responsible officials.
If, alternatively, administrative formalities hinder opening, those hurdles should be removed immediately and documented publicly. Otherwise, the inauguration will go down as a cynical exercise that wasted scarce public attention and hope.
Conclusion: symbolism without service is a civic crime
The spectacle of dignitaries, speeches and ribbon-cutting can be a galvanising moment, but only if it precedes honest delivery. The collapse of that sequence turns a promising asset into a symbol of governmental theatre.
Kaduna’s people deserve better than theatrical inaugurations. They deserve functioning wards, treatment for sick children, accessible maternity care and, crucially, accountability.
This investigation will continue. Next steps will include formal information requests to the Kaduna State government, interviews with hospital contractors and attempts to obtain procurement and payroll records.
If the state will not account for this facility, citizens must insist that their tax-funded infrastructure be judged by results, not by cameras.
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