In the heart of the Upper East Region, the Bawku conflict has not only destabilized communities—but it is now threatening the very core of healthcare delivery.
According to the President of the Ghana Medical Association (GMA), Dr. Frank Serebour, medical doctors stationed in Bawku are operating under extreme emotional and psychological pressure due to the protracted and escalating insecurity in the area.
In a candid and troubling disclosure, Dr. Serebour painted a grim picture of what life looks like for healthcare professionals in Bawku today.
The rising tension and persistent threats to personal safety have led to a culture of fear, absenteeism, and a mass exodus of medical personnel from the conflict-ridden town.
“The doctors work under extreme emotional stress and fear. If you speak to them, you realise that most of them are not themselves, and they will tell you that their output has really gone down. So, what is happening is that for some of them, even going to work is a problem.”
Dr. Frank Serebour
What once used to be a committed and disciplined medical workforce is now in disarray.
Accordingly, Dr. Serebour lamented the impact this has had on the functionality of hospitals and clinics, where even administrative heads find themselves unable to enforce basic professional standards.
“Absenteeism is something that is very much rife, and a few of them have decided to leave. So, we have some who have left, and they are currently in Accra, in Kumasi, and they are refusing to go back.”
Dr. Frank Serebour
Healthworkers Under Attack In Bawku
Furthermore, the protracted Bawku conflict has become increasingly violent and disruptive, placing immense strain on healthcare professionals.
Dr. Serebour shared a disturbing account of how doctors who try to enforce discipline among staff frequently find themselves targeted in the process.
“If a worker doesn’t come to work and you decide that you even want to take this priority action against the worker, the next day, your photograph is plastered all over and you are threatened that if you don’t take care, you’ll be the next target.”
Dr. Frank Serebour
This is not an idle threat. According to him, there have been incidents where doctors’ homes were attacked, their walls riddled with bullets—forcing many to seek police protection just to survive another day. It’s a harrowing reality that places healers in harm’s way.
Gone are the days when Bawku, despite its challenges, was still seen as a post worth accepting.
The image of dedication that used to characterize the area’s healthcare landscape has been eclipsed by fear and insecurity.
“In the past, Bawku used to be one of the places where, regardless of even the issues, doctors were accepting postings, but recently nobody’s agreeing to accept any postings.”
Dr. Frank Serebour
The brain drain from Bawku is real—and growing. He disclosed that as recently as last month, two doctors fled the area.
He also revealed that one now finds himself in Accra, jobless and displaced, because GMA has not yet secured a new posting for him.
“Some have decided to move their families away whilst they are still there delivering service,” he added, highlighting the split realities that medical professionals must endure: choosing between duty and family safety.
Crisis Triggers Silent Health Emergency
The large-scale departure of health professionals amid the conflict has triggered a silent emergency.
As doctors retreat for their own safety, vulnerable groups—pregnant women, the elderly, accident victims, and children with treatable conditions—are left without critical care. It’s not a matter of neglect, but of survival.
And yet, one cannot help but question how long this crisis will be allowed to spiral. Who will take responsibility for the collapse of health services in the region? Who will ensure safety so that medical professionals can return and serve?
The government’s silence on protecting public servants in volatile areas like Bawku is deafening—and deadly.
This isn’t merely a healthcare crisis. It’s a reflection of a broader governance failure, where security, public service, and essential welfare have all been compromised. Conflict is not just tearing communities apart; it is dismantling the systems that keep people alive.
The longer the situation persists, the more lives will be lost—not just to bullets, but to illnesses that could have been treated if only a doctor were available.
If even those trained to save lives are now the ones running for their own, then what hope remains for the people of Bawku?
This is a national emergency in slow motion. And it demands more than rhetoric—it demands immediate, deliberate, and sustainable intervention.
