VIRAL VIDEO OF SUFFERING AT NAKURU HOSPITAL EXPOSES FIRST-CLASS LEADERSHIP, THIRD-CLASS HEALTHCARE
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There’s a crisis at Nakuru Level 5 Hospital. Not just a medical one, a moral one.
And it’s a loud, screaming indictment of the failure of leadership in this county.
A viral video now doing the rounds shows a desperate man , clearly shaken, standing outside the Nakuru County Referral and Teaching Hospital (NCRTH), begging for attention.
Not for himself, but for helpless patients inside the facility who, he says, have been lying for hours without care.
He describes mothers groaning in pain, fathers struggling to breathe, and a complete absence of medical staff.
And what is the county government’s response? A lazy, tone-deaf press release that blames new security guards and poor communication. Yes, you read that right, they’re blaming the guards.
It would be laughable if it weren’t so tragic.
This is Nakuru, the county of billions in budget and zero in leadership.
While the sick suffer and the poor sleep on benches hoping a nurse shows up, our Governor Susan Kihika is reportedly in the United States getting “proper” medical attention.
Why? Because even she doesn’t trust the very health system her government is running to the ground.
That’s not leadership. That’s betrayal.
And what about the MCAs , the people paid to hold the executive to account?
Instead of stepping in to demand urgent action, they’re on air performing somersaults to defend the Governor.
Worse, they’ve turned their fury on the only leader asking real questions, Senator Tabitha Karanja Keroche, accusing her of politicizing a situation that’s already a political disaster.
Let’s be clear: this is not about politics. This is about life and death.
This is about mothers who will never hold their babies because no one was there to help them deliver.
This is about families carrying home bodies because doctors were missing, medicine was unavailable, and no one in charge cared enough to act.
And what does the Health CEC Roselyn Mungai do? She releases a sterile letter that sounds like it was written at a corporate retreat.
Mushrooming relatives “in one area until dawn” isn’t just careless, it’s dangerous.
This isn’t a refugee camp; it’s a hospital where people are already vulnerable, tired, and emotionally distressed.
Clustering them together without any structure or support only increases confusion, tension, and the risk of violence or neglect.
And then there’s the claim that the guards were “new and hadn’t undergone induction.” That’s unacceptable.
How are individuals deployed to a critical facility like a county referral hospital without proper training or orientation?
Especially after serious incidents like a baby’s body going missing, an unresolved trauma that left an entire family in anguish, and a young intern found dead under mysterious circumstances?
These are not isolated incidents. They are red flags pointing to a system that is broken, mismanaged, and devoid of foresight.
A hospital is not just a building; it’s a lifeline. If the county leadership cannot secure it, staff it, and manage it responsibly, then they’ve failed in their most basic duty: protecting life.
What the public needed was reform, not repetition of excuses. What we got was another tone-deaf letter, cold, robotic, and blind to the real suffering on the ground.
We have MCAs who think clout is more important than clinics.
A Governor who vanishes when needed most. A health department issuing statements like they’re managing a hotel instead of a public hospital.
And a hospital that’s become a place where people go to die, not get healed.
The silence of the Governor is deafening. The theatrics of MCAs are insulting. And the apathy of this government is criminal.
If Nakuru is truly a “city of destiny,” then the people in charge are steering it straight into the grave.
It’s time for a reckoning. Time for people to stop clapping for leaders who fly away while we bury our loved ones. Time to demand that the billions allocated to health translate to beds, drugs, doctors and dignity.
Because right now, Nakuru is bleeding. And its leaders are flying first class, far away from the pain.
With a knack for captivating storytelling, Amos Lumbasi has a talent for crafting narratives that resonate with readers. He combines meticulous research with a captivating writing style to create articles that are both informative and enjoyable to read.
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