Last week, a sobering message echoed through the corridors of Mbabane Government Hospital: no tickets, no treatment. But this wasn’t because of a strike or an organised protest. It was something far more chilling—a complete collapse of the public health system. Nurses and hospital staff made the impossible decision to stop selling treatment tickets, not out of defiance, but because there was simply nothing to offer patients. No drugs, no hope—just empty shelves and dry storerooms.
This wasn’t an act of rebellion; it was an act of integrity. Health workers refused to take money from desperate patients when they knew there was no medicine to treat them with. It was a statement louder than any protest: the system has failed.
Yet, while health workers acted with conscience, the Minister of Health, Mduduzi Matsebula, continues to act with arrogance. Just weeks ago, he paraded journalists through Mbabane Government Hospital during one of his now-infamous “surprise” media tours. He wanted the world to see what he claimed were stocked facilities—proof, he argued, that nurses were lying or simply refusing to do their jobs.
But the scenes from last week told a completely different story. No medicine. No equipment. No treatment. Only silence and despair in the waiting rooms.
The minister’s media circus wasn’t just misleading—it was a slap in the face to the professionals risking their lives daily in these crumbling facilities. In his bid to polish his public image, he pushed the hospital’s chief pharmacist into an awkward press appearance. The pharmacist, visibly uncomfortable, refused to lie and redirected questions to “management”—a quiet admission of the truth: there is no medicine.
Now, we wake up to fresh headlines. Mankayane Hospital is downsizing services due to critical shortages of medication. But rather than acknowledge the crisis, the ministry is busy recruiting people with fake Facebook accounts to downplay the situation and smear health workers as political actors. This is how low the bar has dropped—when propaganda becomes more important than patient care.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t just mismanagement. It is cruelty disguised as leadership. And the consequences are deadly. Families are being forced to watch loved ones fade away for no reason other than the fact that essential medicines are out of stock. But of course, the minister will never feel that pain. His medical aid ensures he never faces the same fate as the people he claims to serve.
Minister Matsebula, you are not being condemned because the situation is hard. You are being condemned because instead of meeting this crisis with honesty, urgency, and partnership, you chose denial, deflection, and PR stunts.
The people of Eswatini are not fools. We know the difference between real leadership and a well-lit photo op. And we know when we are being let down. What we’re facing is a national health emergency, and instead of courage, we are met with silence. Instead of medicine, we are handed excuses.
The lives of Emaswati are not props in your public relations campaign. Every day that passes without a real solution is another day someone dies needlessly.
This isn’t just a failure of policy—it’s a failure of humanity.
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