By Abimbola Tooki
It was a kind of birthday I had never witnessed before.
For about 21 days, experienced medical personnel drawn from different parts of the country, alongside nurses, technicians, volunteers and other support staff, converged on Taraba State;not to celebrate a man with cakes, champagne and fanfare, but to breathe life into the hopeless, restore dignity to the forgotten and give another chance to people who had almost given up on life.
While many people mark birthdays by counting the years they have lived, Professor Nentawe Yilwatda chose to count the lives that could be touched.
And so, when the National Chairman of the All Progressives Congress turned 58 on August 8, 2026, the most memorable gift associated with his birthday was not a birthday cake. It was the sight of a child who could finally see; a patient who could walk again; a mother who could return home to her children; a father who would live to hear his children call him “Daddy”; and hundreds of families who suddenly found a reason to hope again.
This was not merely a birthday celebration. It was a celebration of life itself. It was Yilwatda at 58, measured not by the number of candles on a cake, but by the number of lives his birthday could help save.
WHEN A BIRTHDAY BECAME A MISSION
The decision to take the birthday celebration to Taraba was deliberate.
Rather than gather friends, political associates and well-wishers in a ballroom for a conventional birthday ceremony, Yilwatda chose to take healthcare to people who desperately needed it.
The initiative, organised under the broad spirit of the Renewed Hope agenda, was spread across Taraba’s three senatorial districts. Medical teams reached communities and facilities including Sunkani, Takum, Wukari, Bali, Gembu, Bambur and Jalingo, providing consultations, diagnostics, medication, specialist care, dental services and surgical interventions.
The scale was remarkable. More than 300 surgeries were performed, while 572 dental cases were attended to. But Yilwatda was quick to remind everyone that these were not statistics.
“More than 300 surgeries. 572 dental issues. These figures are not just numbers. They are human beings.”
Behind every number was a story. Behind one surgery was a father who would continue to be called father. Behind another was a mother who would return to her children. Behind another was a brother, sister, uncle, aunt or child whose family had almost exhausted every avenue for help. And behind the entire exercise was one profound message: You are not forgotten.
Those requiring specialised treatment were not abandoned after the initial intervention. They were taken through further care, demonstrating that the exercise was conceived not merely as a ceremonial medical outreach but as a genuine humanitarian intervention.
WHY TARABA?
The choice of Taraba was perhaps the most powerful part of the story.
Taraba is one of Nigeria’s more underserved states from a healthcare perspective, with significant challenges around access, infrastructure, affordability and availability of health personnel and specialised services.
Federal health planning documents classify Taraba among states requiring intensified intervention to improve health outcomes, including stronger healthcare infrastructure, recruitment and capacity building for healthcare workers, essential medicines and supplies, immunisation and community-based interventions.
The challenge is particularly significant for people living outside the state capital, where distance, poverty and the cost of treatment can turn an otherwise treatable condition into a life-threatening crisis.
Nigeria’s wider health financing challenge compounds the problem. Federal health officials have noted that out-of-pocket expenditure remains exceptionally high, placing enormous financial pressure on families seeking care.
It was against this backdrop that the intervention assumed a meaning much greater than a birthday celebration.
It went where the need was greatest. It travelled beyond Jalingo. It reached communities where the inability to pay a hospital bill can determine whether a person lives or dies. That is why the choice of Taraba mattered.
There is something profoundly humbling about watching a person emerge from a successful operation. For the medical team, it may be another procedure completed. For the hospital, it may be another patient discharged. But for the family involved, it can mean the difference between despair and thanksgiving.
One surgery can change a life. That was the philosophy behind the intervention.
At the Federal Medical Centre, Jalingo, the birthday activities also witnessed the commissioning of a newly built administrative block, a kidney centre, a High Dependency Unit and a theatre, while the Minister of Health and Social Welfare commissioned a critical care unit. Yilwatda and other dignitaries also visited surgical beneficiaries and toured the National Orthopaedic Hospital.
These were not simply bricks, mortar and medical equipment.They were investments in the possibility of survival.
THE PRESIDENT, THE GIVER AND THE LIVES THAT WERE SAVED
For Yilwatda, there was another person who had to be acknowledged, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu.
Standing before the people of Taraba, the APC National Chairman expressed profound gratitude to the President for supporting the initiative.
His explanation was simple and powerful:
“The President gave money, the health workers took the money and they multiplied it to save lives.”
That sentence perhaps captures the essence of the entire intervention. Money was converted into medicine. Resources became surgeries.
Government support became restored eyesight. Funding became renewed mobility. And a birthday became an opportunity for thousands to encounter the practical meaning of hope.
Yilwatda said he could not thank the President enough, describing him as a father who had given him everything a son could require from a father.
He also described President Tinubu as a leader who believes in Nigeria and expressed appreciation for the opportunities created under his administration. For Yilwatda, however, gratitude is not a political ritual. It is deeply personal.
THE FARMER’S SON WHO FAILED SIX TIMES
Perhaps the most emotional dimension of the Taraba celebration was the story Yilwatda told about himself. It was the story of a child whose destiny was not obvious from his beginnings.
His mother took six months to conceive him, and, according to the family testimony, there had been a declaration that a child would be born and would be named Nentawe even before his birth.
He described himself as a slow learner. In Primary Six, he said, he was the last in his class. He sat for six Common Entrance examinations. He failed all six. Yet there was a woman who refused to define him by his failures. She gave him tea and biscuits. She gave him extra attention. She saw something in him that he could not yet see in himself. She saw tomorrow when others could only see yesterday.
That child eventually rose to become one of the best students in his university. He became a professor. He aspired to become a governor and failed. But history had another destination for him.
Today, Governors come to him in his capacity as National Chairman of the governing All Progressives Congress.
It is a remarkable journey from being the last pupil in a primary school classroom to becoming the chairman of Nigeria’s largest political party.
But Yilwatda’s interpretation of his journey is not one of entitlement. It is gratitude.
He spoke of the angels God placed along his path, from primary school, through secondary school, university and his PhD journey, to his present position.
There was a moment in his speech in Taraba when the political leader disappeared and the human being emerged.
Yilwatda spoke about mortality. He acknowledged that many of his contemporaries had died. He reflected on the fact that 58 years is no small achievement. And then he asked himself a question that transcended politics:
If heaven were to knock today and ask, “What did you do with your life?” what would he say?
His answer was profoundly simple. He would say he dedicated his 58th year to a medical outreach in Taraba. That may well be the most enduring legacy of the birthday. Not the speeches. Not the dignitaries. Not the photographs.Not even the political symbolism.But the lives.
A FATHER’S LESSON THAT BECAME A LIFE’S PHILOSOPHY
Yilwatda’s recollection of his father was equally moving. His father borrowed money to send him to school. He told his son that he was not as wealthy as other fathers. But he taught him something greater than money.He taught him faith. He reminded him that when Jesus was born, there was no conventional room for Him; yet provision came. When thousands needed to be fed, provision came.
When the disciples needed help, someone provided.And even when Jesus approached the cross and needed strength, help came.
The lesson was simple: God provides through people. That lesson appears to have remained with Yilwatda. And in Taraba, he became part of that chain of provision.
Someone needed an operation. Someone needed a tooth extracted. Someone needed an eye restored. Someone needed a hospital bill paid. Someone needed hope.And help came.
TARABA WELCOMED HIM LIKE A SON
The people of Taraba did not merely receive the APC National Chairman. They welcomed him.
From the airport to Jalingo, children who had been in pain lined the streets, smiling, waving and hailing as the convoy passed.
The welcome dinner organised by the Taraba State Government was equally spectacular. It was an evening of food, music, culture and warmth. The cultural troupe entertained guests with energetic traditional performances, while the hospitality of the Taraba people created an atmosphere that Yilwatda would later describe in deeply emotional terms. “You made me feel at home,” he told them.
Then came a sentence that appeared to capture his emotional connection with the state: “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. I am beholding Taraba.”
He described Taraba as possessing “one of the most beautiful hearts that anyone could have.” But the real beauty he had encountered was not merely geographical. It was human. It was in the women who cried. It was in the patients who smiled. It was in the families who said thank you. It was in the hospitality of a people who had embraced a visitor as one of their own.
THE TEARS OF THE WOMEN
When Yilwatda rose to thank Governor Agbu Kefas and the people of Taraba, the atmosphere changed. His speech became deeply personal. He spoke about life. He spoke about death. He spoke about his father. He spoke about failure. He spoke about God’s mercy. He spoke about the people whose lives had been touched by the outreach. And then the tears came.
A few minutes into the speech, some women in the audience could no longer hold back their emotions. I saw them moved to tears. Not because they were attending a political gathering. But because they were listening to a man narrate a journey that reminded them of their own struggles and of the possibility that difficult beginnings do not have to determine difficult endings.
Yilwatda’s message was unmistakable. “We are here to give lives, restore dignity. We are here to give hope not only life, but renewed hope.” The words were reinforced by what had happened across the state.
People who had lost their sight received treatment. People who had been bedridden were restored. People who could not afford specialist care were attended to. Families that had lived with medical anxiety suddenly had reasons to smile. The intervention became a physical manifestation of the phrase Renewed Hope.
Governor Agbu Kefas captured it succinctly when he observed that Renewed Hope was no longer merely a slogan but had become a living experience among the people.
He described the initiative as a testament to what leadership should represent and said successful surgeries had produced thousands of testimonies and restored the dignity and future of families touched by the exercise.
He also praised President Tinubu for identifying and entrusting critical responsibilities to people he described as great minds.
The Coordinating Minister of Health and Social Welfare, Professor Muhammad Ali Pate, also placed the intervention within the broader national health conversation.
A person who is vulnerable to illness, he noted, has one overriding need: good health. And Yilwatda had chosen to mark a personal milestone by bringing relief to thousands of people. That choice, he suggested, reflected the kind of social responsibility that Nigeria requires.
The intervention also aligned with the Federal Government’s broader emphasis on expanding access to healthcare, strengthening infrastructure, improving the health workforce and reaching underserved communities.
The Chief Medical Director of the Federal Medical Centre, Jalingo, described the impact of the initiative as “loud and clear.”
The reason is obvious. For families who could never have raised the money required for surgery, specialist consultation or dental treatment, the intervention removed an enormous burden.
It relieved families of financial struggles they could not overcome on their own. And, most importantly, it saved lives. That is what makes the numbers meaningful.
THE ORPHANS AND WIDOWS
Perhaps one of the quietest but most touching moments came when Yilwatda, his beautiful, whom we all call “her excellency” and members of his team sat down for lunch with orphans and widows in Taraba.
The orphans and widows were visibly delighted that someone had come to show them love and affection.
At the end of the meal, they received gifts—not only material gifts, but something more difficult to quantify: attention, dignity, companionship and the assurance that somebody still cared.
Sometimes, humanity is restored not by what we give, but by the fact that we show up.
The significance of Yilwatda’s 58th birthday therefore extends beyond one man and beyond one political party.It speaks to a larger Nigerian reality.
A country where millions still struggle to afford healthcare needs leaders who understand that compassion is not weakness. A country with enormous human potential needs institutions that convert resources into outcomes.
And a democracy that seeks to earn the trust of citizens must continually demonstrate that public leadership is ultimately about improving human lives.
The birthday intervention did not solve all of Taraba’s healthcare challenges and no single outreach can.
The state still requires sustained investment in primary healthcare, specialist services, medical personnel, equipment and health infrastructure.
But interventions such as this can provide immediate relief while drawing attention to structural needs that require longer-term solutions.
Indeed, reports from the outreach itself have shown beneficiaries calling for sustained government investment in healthcare across the state.
That is perhaps the most constructive way to interpret the exercise.Not as a substitute for government. But as a demonstration of what is possible when leadership, government, medical professionals, institutions and philanthropy converge around one objective: saving lives.
At 58, Professor Nentawe Yilwatda has reached a stage of life where many people would naturally look backwards.
He chose to look forward. “At this stage of my life, all I can ask for is greater wisdom to serve the people, more opportunities to make a difference,” he said. “I can’t ask for more.”
And perhaps that is the most profound lesson from Taraba. A birthday does not have to be about what life has given you. Sometimes, it should be about what you can still give life.
Yilwatda looked at his 58 years and saw God’s grace. He looked at his failures and saw lessons. He looked at his elevations and saw divine favour.
He looked at his father and saw sacrifice. He looked at President Tinubu and saw a leader who helped provide the means. He looked at the doctors and nurses and saw instruments of healing. And he looked at the people of Taraba and saw humanity.
Tooki is the Special Adviser to the National Chairman of the All Progressives Congress (APC)
