In the heart of northern Nigeria, the bustling Kaduna Local Government was about to witness a quiet revolution—one not of protests or politics, but of protection, health, and foresight.
It began with Mariam and Idris, two young professionals in their late twenties, preparing for the most important step of their lives: marriage. Like many others in the community, they had dreams of starting a family, building a home, and growing old together. But unlike previous generations, they encountered a new requirement at the registry office.
“Yes,” the official nodded. “As of this month, every intending couple must show proof of enrollment in the Kaduna State Health Insurance Scheme (KADCHMA) before registration.”
At first, the idea felt like just another hurdle in the maze of bureaucracy. But as they sat through the counseling session that accompanied enrollment, they began to see things differently.
They learned that the scheme covered maternal care, vaccinations, emergency services, chronic disease management, and even mental health support. For Mariam, who had lost an aunt due to complications in childbirth with no access to quality care, it felt like a small revolution. For Idris, whose younger brother had struggled with asthma and costly hospital visits, it was peace of mind.
Hassan, a 42-year-old businessman with ambitions of representing his ward at the state assembly, stood before the electoral screening committee. He had the support of his people, the resources to run, and the will to serve. But there too, a new clause had appeared.
“All aspirants must present evidence of health insurance coverage,” the party chairman read out. “Leadership begins with accountability. If you seek to serve the people, you must first serve as an example.”
Some scoffed at the policy. Others paused to reflect. But the message was clear: public office was not just about power—it was about responsibility. The same responsibility a parent owes to a child, a spouse to their partner, a leader to their community.
Enrollment in the state health scheme tripled. Young couples, often overlooked in health planning, now had access to regular checkups, maternal care, and family planning resources. Political aspirants, regardless of outcome, were now part of a system that prioritized health as a civic duty.
Local clinics saw more preventive visits than emergency rushes. Health workers reported better engagement with newly insured patients. And communities began to talk—not just about weddings or campaigns, but about wellness, insurance, and the kind of future they wanted.
The Kaduna Local Government had taken a bold step—one small regulation that became a foundation for cultural change.
And in homes and halls across the region, from newlyweds to hopeful politicians, a new understanding took root:
Love is commitment. Leadership is care. And health is everyone’s right—and everyone’s responsibility.
