You Were 'Matched', So What?

This is one of those times when I feel like that relatively popular, eccentric character Femi Adebayo played when I was in secondary school. No, I’m not talking about Jelili—this write-up already smells foul.

I’m referring to the lesser-known version of him, Kodi, Ologbon Aye. If you’ve seen the movie and remember it, then the tagline that often follows his name has probably played in your head:

"Gbogbo on ta ye ba ko ju si, emi maa n Kodi si ni."

"I turn my back on what the world faces."

Yes, I know "Matched" is a trending topic. I know tweets about people getting matched are drowning in likes, with swooning congratulatory comments generously plastered all over them.

I JUST DON’T SHARE THE SENTIMENT.

Believe me, I’ve tried. I’m not a sadist, and I definitely don’t envy them—I’m not even in a position to. I’m still in my fourth year of medical school. I should be feeling inspired.

But for some reason, my soul harbors a visceral repulsion to the idea and the motivation behind it—ever since I first heard about it.

Whatever color hypocrisy is, you might as well pour a bucket of it on me right now because of what I’m about to say.

Medicine should be about passion. Stay with me for a second. If that were truly the case, then getting matched into residency in the U.S. shouldn’t be considered superior to getting matched here in Nigeria.

The hype is unnecessary, especially when there’s no equivalent celebration for those who match locally.

What about the people who choose to stay, work, and contribute their quota to a broken system—not because they’re forced to, but because they hold onto the tiniest hope that their actions will echo, at least in their patients’ lives? Or, in the best-case scenario, throughout the entire system?

Don’t they deserve more applause than those who successfully ran?

Finding out that many people who get matched don’t even land their desired specialty didn’t help my opinion either. Frankly speaking, they just end up being slaves in another (supposedly better) system.

And don’t even get me started on the currency-environment dynamics that ensure the quality of life for doctors in different countries remains relatively the same regardless of salary. The dollars only seem enormous when converted to naira and spent here.

Factor in taxes, 30-hour shifts, endless bills, the risk of lawsuits (for touching a patient without first asking them), and the absence of time to even spend those dollars you claim to be raking in—you're only illusorily better off than Nigerian doctors.

I think it is a lingering colonial mindset to presume and act as if our own achievements, as long as they are accomplished locally, aren’t worth as much.

I think we ought to pay more attention to the real heroes, and at the very least, celebrate them too when they get matched.

P.S.: If, in the future, you happen to find me strolling through an American hospital in my white coat, just mind your business.

I was matched, so what?

Written by Felix Ajibade