.On the Frontline With Boma
For centuries, before the advent of hospitals, laboratories, and the white-coated physicians of modern medicine, our forefathers relied on nature’s pharmacy. The leaves, roots, and barks of trees were their prescriptions; the local healer, their doctor; and the environment, their dispensary. Traditional medicine was not merely a practice ,it was a way of life, passed down through generations and trusted to preserve life and restore health.
It was, and still is in many parts of Africa, a living science,—a system built on deep observation of the environment, the seasons, and the healing power of plants. From the forest to the farmland, nature was the classroom, and experience was the teacher.
I speak from a place of experience. In my early years, I was privileged to know a native midwife — a calm, confident woman whose hands had delivered countless babies in her community. With nothing but her herbal concoctions and profound knowledge of plants, she midwifed women into motherhood long before health centres dotted rural landscapes.
Her practice was rooted in knowledge inherited, not from medical textbooks, but from her own mother and those before her. Her success stories were living testaments to the efficacy of traditional medicine, often performed in small, humble rooms that smelled of roots, leaves, and trust.
And yet, I am also a beneficiary of conventional medicine. My caesarean section — a surgical procedure that can only be safely performed by trained gynaecologists in sterile hospital conditions was a reminder of how far modern science has come in saving lives that would otherwise have been lost. Between these two worlds of healing — the traditional and the conventional, lies a story of contrast, coexistence, and sometimes, conflict.
In many rural communities across Nigeria and other parts of Africa, traditional medicine still reigns supreme. It is often the first, and sometimes the only, option available. Hospitals are miles away, medical personnel scarce, and even when present, the cost of consultation and prescribed drugs can be discouraging. The herbalist or trado-medical practitioner becomes the community’s dependable hand — accessible, affordable, and trusted.
Traditional medicine, for all its simplicity, has one thing going for it which is availability. Where there is no clinic, there is often a healer; where there is no pharmacy, there is always a plant. It thrives where modern healthcare struggles to reach.
But while traditional medicine has its merits, it also raises serious issues. For one, most traditional remedies lack standardisation. Dosages are often estimated, not measured. The active ingredients in herbs are seldom scientifically verified, making it difficult to ascertain their precise effects or side effects.
Some herbs, though potent, can become toxic when improperly prepared or mixed. The absence of regulation also means that anyone can claim to be a healer leading to cases of quackery, misinformation, and preventable deaths.
Conventional medicine, on the other hand, is built on research, experimentation, and established scientific procedures. Every drug passes through rigorous testing to ensure safety and efficacy. Medical practitioners are trained, licensed, and held accountable.
Yet, it is not without its shortcomings. The high cost of healthcare, overdependence on imported drugs, and the sometimes mechanical doctor–patient relationship can alienate those who seek care. In many cases, the human touch — the empathy and personal concern that traditional healers often show seems lost in the structured efficiency of hospitals.
Beyond the issues of safety and access, another disturbing reality looms large — the fear that traditional medicine may die with the older generation. Many of today’s youth show little or no interest in learning from their parents and grandparents who have spent decades perfecting herbal healing.
Unlike conventional medicine, which churns out thousands of graduates yearly from medical schools and colleges, traditional medicine lacks formal structures of transmission. The knowledge, mostly oral, fades when its custodians pass on. It is a silent cultural extinction — one that threatens to erase centuries of indigenous medical wisdom if not urgently addressed.
The modern generation’s disinterest is partly understandable. Society has associated herbal practice with superstition and backwardness. Young people are drawn to white coats, stethoscopes, and air-conditioned hospitals — symbols of progress and prestige, while the herbalist’s hut seems outdated, even primitive.
Yet, this perception is flawed. Many of the world’s modern medicines originated from plants and natural compounds used by traditional healers long before the age of clinical trials. Quinine, used to treat malaria, came from the cinchona bark; aspirin traces its roots to willow bark; and morphine, a powerful pain reliever, from the poppy plant.
Interestingly,the World Health Organization (WHO) recognises traditional medicine as an essential component of healthcare, especially in developing countries. It has even encouraged governments to integrate safe and effective traditional practices into national health systems. That recognition alone underscores its enduring value.
There is also the cultural aspect to consider. Traditional medicine connects people to their roots. It represents indigenous knowledge systems that form part of our identity. To dismiss it outright is to ignore centuries of accumulated wisdom. However, romanticising it without reform or regulation is equally dangerous.
Government agencies like NAFDAC and the Federal Ministry of Health have, over the years, made attempts to standardise and document herbal medicines, but progress remains slow. The challenge lies in striking the right balance — encouraging innovation while maintaining credibility and safety.
If traditional medicine must take its rightful place, practitioners should be properly trained, certified, and encouraged to collaborate with scientists and researchers. That partnership could produce a hybrid health system — one that respects culture, ensures safety, and meets modern medical standards.
It is also time to think of traditional medicine as a potential economic asset. The global herbal medicine market is booming, and Nigeria, with its vast biodiversity, could benefit immensely if research and regulation go hand in hand. What we need is structure, not suppression.
The challenge before us, therefore, is twofold: to preserve and modernise. Preservation means encouraging the younger generation to see value in traditional healing, not as superstition, but as science waiting to be explored. Modernisation means providing the framework, laboratories, and policies that can turn that ancient knowledge into globally recognised remedies.
Perhaps universities and research institutes should begin offering accredited programmes in traditional medicine — where knowledge of herbs, botany, pharmacology, and cultural practices intersect. That way, we move from folklore to formalisation, from trial and error to verified healing.
In the end, both traditional and conventional medicine share a common goal: healing. Each has its strengths and weaknesses, its triumphs and tragedies. What we must strive for is synergy — a coexistence that draws on the best of both worlds to serve humanity better.
As one who has lived through both experiences — the natural and the surgical, I find wisdom in balance. Perhaps the real healing power lies not in choosing one over the other, but in understanding when and how each can best be applied.
After all, good health is not just about science or culture, it’s about survival, compassion, and the timeless human desire to live well and live long.
Undeniably,Traditional medicine sustained our forefathers long before hospitals arrived, while modern medicine continues to save lives with scientific precision. Between both lies a delicate balance, and a vanishing heritage that must not be lost.
And as I reflect on the old midwife whose hands once brought life into the world, I cannot help but wonder — who will carry her torch when she is gone? Who among the present generation will preserve the knowledge that once sustained our forefathers?
That, perhaps, is the real question that time will soon demand an answer to.
On the Frontline With Boma is published by The Port Harcourt Telegraph Newspaper.
